Mall American Girl Read online

  She couldn’t bring back her mom, but she could damn well offer safer options to help others never experience what she went through.

  That was even part of why she ended things with Winter—which had certainly complicated matters. Winter had been there for her through the acute grief stage, finding her in that low moment and comforting her back to a place where she could finally get out of bed long enough to not cry the moment memories of her mother hit her. Winter had taken her in like a wounded animal, and she seemed to really like that about Summer. Not in a creepy, scary way, but more in a way that just felt like if and when Summer felt the sun again, Winter wasn’t going to be interested anymore.

  And she wanted to feel the sun. She wanted to pour her grief and sorrow into her business and creating the dream she’d told her mom she would do. So, she walked away from Winter and from the heavy coat of grief feeling like…there must be more.

  Being pansexual meant that Summer had dated men, women, and non-binary individuals, but despite her experiences, she’d never yet found someone who felt like they fit. What that meant exactly or what that looked like, she couldn’t even explain. All she did know was that she wanted someone who challenged her and pushed her to be the best version of herself—and right now, the only person doing that was herself.

  “Summer, do we have an extra potato sack?” Amber, one of the college students who she’d hired part-time for some seasonal work popped her head out from the main supplies closet. “I can’t find anything in here that might work to practice with.”

  She glanced back at her. “We have two in the back room to practice with before tomorrow. Use one of those.”

  “I can’t,” Amber said, shaking her head. “I ripped a hole in both of them. These heels just cut right through.”

  She lifted her foot to show the stiletto heel on the end.

  “You tried to practice running in a potato sack in heels?” Summer’s brows shot up. What in the Generation Z was happening right now?

  Amber looked a bit defensive. “There will be people there, Summer. I’m always in heels.”

  Summer was beginning to question her hiring choices, but given the job was to spray naked people, she had a pretty unique set of people applying to work for her. “I’ll ask Harold for more. But no more heels in the sack, Amber!”

  Amber smirked. “That’s what she said.”

  “Gross.” Summer rolled her eyes, but admittedly, she did chuckle slightly at that joke. That’s what she said jokes never got old—and she’d happily die on that hill to anyone who argued otherwise. “Watch the front desk. I’ll be back.”

  Purse in hand, she headed out into the mall and found herself walking past the raised pavilion where the young man who’d approached her earlier about power for his amp had set up shop. He was singing softly into the microphone, one hand strumming the strings of a guitar as his other hand gripped the neck differently for each varying chord. He didn’t seem to notice her, but then again, he didn’t seem to notice anyone in that moment.

  She paused briefly to watch him—just like a dozen other people were doing as well. He’d actually gained quite the crowd in the short time he’d been singing, and it was no wonder why. His voice was butter—soft, creamy, deep enough to lose yourself in.

  Summer glanced down at her arms, seeing small raised bumps breaking out across her skin at the very sound of him. It wasn’t even just how he sounded, but there was a weight to everything he was saying. Like his lyrics sat on her heart and weighed her down in all the best ways that love and loss could do.

  If she was being fully honest, though, she was also captivated by the way he looked standing on stage. He was tall—a lot taller than her and probably over six feet if she had to guess—but he stood in a way that somehow softened him. Like he was curling into the microphone, caressing it, the way he might hold a woman in his arms…

  Why were her thoughts going there?

  A flush heated her cheeks. She wasn’t about to start fawning over another vendor at the mall right after her own break up. Even if he was tall, dark, and handsome. Good Lord, his jaw line was as hard as the line of his biceps, and his hair was shaved close with a sharp edge and a design crisscrossed through one side of his head. His skin was a deep brown color that jutted against the light brown of the acoustic guitar in his hands. She didn’t have the emotional energy to think about his hands or the way they were gripping the neck of the guitar as if he could just snap the entire thing in half with one squeeze.

  Nope. Definitely not thinking about those hands.

  “Summer!” A young Filipina woman who owned the retro arcade down the corridor pulled Summer from her thoughts. She turned to see that the woman was waving her over.

  “Oh, hey Mara,” she greeted the woman as she walked away from the singer.

  Amara Hart had become a good acquaintance of hers in the last few years since they both owned businesses in the mall. Acquaintances, not friends—but not for the lack of effort on Mara’s part. This poor woman invited Summer to everything and even gave her salon shout outs on her Instagram page which had gone viral last year when she’d recorded her engagement story to her now-husband Val, who owned the jewelry store next door. And yet, nine times out of ten, Summer turned down her invitations. Not because she had anything better to do or because she didn’t like Mara, but she just…stayed home or worked.

  And that was really all she’d been doing for years.

  First it had been taking care of her mom while going to school. Then grieving her mom while being with Winter. Now focusing on her business while spending evenings alone with Netflix. When she listed it out like that, it sounded…sad.

  She wasn’t sad.

  But she also wasn’t particularly happy. Hell, she had no idea what she was anymore.

  Summer walked past a few kiosks selling trinkets, keychains, and candles before she reached the arcade entrance. “How are you, Mara? How’s business?”

  Mara had one hand on her lower back and the other on her large, pregnant belly. Somehow, despite her size, she still had on combat boots and a flannel shirt tied around her stomach beneath her baby bump. Until this pregnancy, Summer never would have guessed that Mara was actually a natural dirty blond, but now her roots had grown out pretty far and only the ends of her hair had her colorful purple and pink streaks she’d been so known for.

  “I’m about ready to pop out this baby,” Mara replied, looking as tired as she sounded. “I swear to gosh, everyone keeps telling me to sleep and rest and all that before the baby gets here, but this third trimester insomnia is next freaking level.”

  Summer gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine. Is Val helping out a lot at least?”

  “He’s incredible,” Mara confirmed. “The man waits on me hand and foot. He’s still cranky that I haven’t already gone on maternity leave, but there’s no reason I can’t do shifts at the arcade until I go into labor.”

  “I mean, I guess so, but it still sounds like a lot of being on your feet.” Summer felt a bit uncomfortable, not knowing what to say in response. She’d never been pregnant and had no experience with kids—or long-term relationships—so this wasn’t an area she could relate. Plus, she really just wanted to go finish her errand and get back to work herself. “I’m guessing you guys are going to sit out the Independence Games this year?”

  “Absolutely not! I’m not missing an opportunity to put Val in a dunk tank.” Mara laughed. “Oh, and did I tell you about Marco?”

  Summer shook her head.

  “He got accepted into U of M! He’s going to college!” Mara was beaming with maternal pride already, though Marco was her foster son until he’d turned eighteen a few months ago.

  “That’s amazing, Mara. Congratulations! You guys have done amazing work with him.” It was definitely something she admired about Mara and the way she gave back to the community. She wasn’t a “kid person”—whatever that meant—but she had a lot of respect for those who were. “I’m headed to grab some more potato sacks from the manager’s office. Do you need any?”

  Mara shook her head. “Val’s going to do that one—too risky at my size. I am, however, going to dominate the hot dog eating contest. Someone’s going to have to take you down!”

  Summer laughed, a grin slipping across her face. Her winning streak was well known throughout all the mall vendors, but no one had beaten her yet. “Good luck... I hear they raised the jackpot this year, too.”

  “Five thousand dollars,” Mara confirmed. “That’s freaking insane for some hot dogs and a water pistol contest, but hey, Harold loves these games almost as much as he loves his Ruth.”

  “Why do you think he bumped up the prize money this year? I only took home five hundred dollars the last few years when I won.” Summer had been contemplating asking Harold about that, but she didn’t want to push. She honestly wasn’t someone who put her nose in other’s business, and she liked to keep her head down for the most part.

  But still…it was a large leap in prize winnings.

  Mara wiggled her brows conspiratorially. “Rumor has it there’s something big coming…like an announcement of some sort.”

  “Really?” Summer didn’t like that at all. Change was not her specialty, and she’d worked hard to get where she was. Having to figure it out again with some new transition wasn’t exactly at the top of her list of fun summer plans. “Hmm. Well, if you hear anything, let me know. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  “You better come hungry tomorrow!” Mara called out after her.

  Summer laughed and turned to wave back at her over her shoulder, but her gaze caught on something—or someone—else entirely. Kamar was standing to the side of the pavilion and staring straight at her, a plastic bottle of water in his hand.
He lifted it to his lips and took a long swig—his eyes not leaving her once.

  She quickly looked away, swallowing hard as she tried to tame the flutters happening in her belly. She did not have time for a distraction, and he was very distracting.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KAMAR

  There was no reasonable explanation for why Kamar couldn’t keep his gaze off Summer as she talked to a friend in front of the arcade. He tried to tell himself the excuse of that he just needed to take a water break in between sets, but he knew that wasn’t true.

  The truth was that he found her fascinating.

  In the little time he’d known her—all of a few hours—he’d seen someone who was a complete dichotomy in every way. She seemed personable and friendly with the arcade owner, as if they’d known each other for years, and yet the moment she turned and walked away, her face completely fell. Like it had all been an act for the other woman and as soon as she’d been able to drop the facade…she had.

  He frowned as he watched her walk away, but tried to push it all away from his mind. He didn’t have the time or attention span to focus on this one strange woman who seemed both fulfilled and incredibly sad all at once.

  When Kamar glanced back toward the pavilion, he noticed a woman was sitting on the edge of the stage and flipping through his song book.

  “Excuse me?” he called out to her as he headed back, putting his hand out for his property. “That’s mine.”

  She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushing a deep red on her olive-tinged skin. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

  He took it from her as she held it out to him. “That’s a bit of an odd thing to do, don’t you think? Just walk up and look through someone’s notebook?”

  The woman was standing now, looking like she was ready to run the moment he blinked. “Sorry. I know. That was strange.”

  Kamar stood there waiting for further explanation, but she just continued to stare at him. A long, awkward moment passed between them. “Uh…well…is there something you needed? Something you were looking for?”

  She kept staring. Good Lord, she wasn’t even blinking.

  He was starting to get irritated and waved his hand in front of her face in case she was having some sort of episode. “Hello?”

  “Oh, uh…no. Sorry.” She was looking around now—her eyes kind of wild. “Just was wondering what made you so…interesting.”

  Kamar frowned even deeper now. “What?”

  “Nothing,” the woman quickly replied. “I have to run. It was great to meet you! Happy July Fourth!”

  With that, she waved and then waltzed off like they’d just finished a casual, normal conversation.

  What in the patriotic bull was that?

  Despite his time playing for total strangers over the years, that was definitely one of the strangest experiences he’d had with a groupie. Not that he was popular enough to have a groupie, but he wasn’t sure how else to explain that interaction. He glanced through his notebook, filing through the pages to see if anything was altered or missing, but everything looked the same. Hopefully, it had just been some sort of innocent curiosity, but he still felt a churn in his gut saying that he’d probably run into her again.

  “Hey, Kamar!” Conner, the owner of The Big Cheese Food Truck, walked up to him and put his hand out. They shook and smiled at one another.

  Kamar had first met Conner last fall when he’d parked on campus and quickly became the hottest commodity to every college student there. While he wasn’t Kamar’s favorite person, he did respect that Conner did a lot of work with local underprivileged youth to provide hot breakfasts every morning since the schools did not. “Good to see you, Conner. How’s the food truck business?”

  “Delicious, as usual,” he joked. “But listen, man, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  Kamar lifted one brow. “I’m all ears.”

  “The Games are starting in two hours,” Conner explained. “I’m supposed to be in it along with one of my Cheese Heads and they grated out on me—get it? Grated? Like you do to cheese.”

  Kamar just stared at the man as if he was insane. Safe bet was that he was.

  “So, you in?” Conner asked.

  “The games are today?” Kamar hadn’t expected the Independence Games to be so soon, but technically…it was the holiday this weekend, so that made some sense. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  Conner laughed. “What? That’s the whole point of the dunk tank. Dunk you in your clothes. Just take your phone out of your pocket. Anyway, I need a teammate, and one of the Cheese Heads is visiting family this weekend.”

  “Cheese Head?”

  “That’s what we call our employees.” Conner grinned. “I’m the Head Cheese and they are the Cheese Heads. Catchy, right?”

  Kamar shrugged. “I’m lactose intolerant.”

  Conner paused for a second, as if absorbing the joke, then laughed so hard that his head tipped backwards. “See, this is exactly why I need you to be my partner. You’re a fricking riot, K-dog.”

  God, he hoped that nickname didn’t stick. He mentally reminded himself that Conner was a good guy—just a little annoying. “Uh, sure. Why not? I’m kinda going it alone right now anyway, so might have a better chance at winning with a partner. How does that work? We split up the games?”

  The Cheese Head clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Heck yeah! We each do two of the contests and then split the prize money. We’re going to dominate that water pistol contest. How’s your aim?”

  Kamar had never gone hunting or held a gun in his entire life. “I mean, my mom said I finally found my aim around eight or nine years old.”

  Conner blinked, then burst out laughing once more. Jeez, this guy was easily amused. “You are a trip, K-dog. An absolute trip. I’ll see you at the contest.”

  He shook his hand and then went back up onto the pavilion to start his next set. Kamar played five songs straight through. When he checked his Venmo app, he’d already made over one hundred dollars in tips by the time he had to head out to the contest. Pretty decent for an afternoon, though he hoped to improve that number this weekend when people were watching the fireworks.

  What was better than a soundtrack during a firework show? That would be the real money maker.

  “Over here!” Conner waved Kamar over as he walked up to the site where the games would be held. He’d finished his set, packed up his gear and equipment, and locked it up safely in the manager’s office before making his way out to where the games would be held. “K-dog! Over here!”

  The mall was shaped like a circle and in the center was a large, open-air courtyard with benches and picnic tables where people would congregate after they grabbed something to eat from the food court. Today was a different story, however, because the entire thing was cleared out and there was a full-on stadium set up instead.

  Metal bleachers had been erected to one side of the courtyard—already partially filled with people, some of whom he recognized as vendors from different parts of the mall and some who he had never seen before. Not too far to the left of the bleachers was a bright blue dunk tank and a woman with streaked purple hair in a braid down her back was standing in front of it—hands on her hips. She was standing by the owner of the bar, The Lucky Leprechaun, and talking animatedly as if gearing up for the competition.

  He had a feeling people were going to be taking today pretty seriously.

  “It’s Kamar,” he reminded Conner as he reached him. “Not really the nickname type.”

  Conner’s face flushed for only a quick moment before he shook it off. “Cool. I respect that. Listen, there are two rounds—first round is getting the water aimed at that pedal to make the deer race. The second round is how many deer can you knock over with the water pistol. Which one do you want to do?”

  “The race,” he said immediately, even though the entire thing seemed like an odd pastime. “I’m not really the hunting type.”

  “You should have seen the deer I bagged last year,” Conner launched into a story that Kamar had zero interest in hearing. He nodded along, dropping in a few “huhs” and an “is that so?” or two. But his attention had been pulled away almost immediately when he saw Summer walking into the courtyard.