Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“But you kissed.”
Daniel stands and digs his wallet from his back pocket. Eyeing me, he says, “I can pay you back for the ice cream, but I think it’s best if I talk to him in private.”
“It’s on us,” I say, seeing the concern in his gaze.
Tucking it back in, he says, “Thanks.” He takes Roman’s hand and leads them outside with ice cream in their other hands.
I look to see if Winter was a witness, but she’s busy scooping ice cream for the ladies’ group. Slinking up to the counter, I say, “Put the ice cream on my tab, Winter.”
“You don’t have a tab,” she replies, cocking her eyebrow.
“In that case, thanks for the ice cream, sis.”
She’s already moved on to feed the crowd to bother with my antics. I walk outside and look in both directions. I find the two of them sitting on a bench in front of the marina two stores down from the Honey Hive.
I start to walk over to them, but stop. Should I? Is this time they need alone? Roman is eight, so it makes sense that things are black and white. But Daniel and I are stuck in the gray as we work through things. How do you explain that to a kid?
There’s probably not a way that will make sense to him.
Daniel sees me and waves me over. I go, but I’m much more cautious. The last thing I wanted was to confuse his son. We are moving fast, and love shouldn’t be a part of the equation, not at this stage. Doesn’t mean I’m not susceptible to the notion. I am, so easily. Maybe I’m the problem. I asked him to touch me last night like . . . like. . . like a puck bunny. Good Lord, I didn’t even know he was a hockey player.
My heart beats faster, telling me I’m lying to myself. I am. My heart knows good and well that the feelings developing are real.
I stop near the bench, taking tentative steps until Daniel says, “Come join us.”
Roman’s ice cream is almost gone, but Daniel’s is missing altogether. Guiding my way to the opening seat puts Roman in the middle of us. Daniel’s arm comes around the back of the bench, and he rubs my back before pulling back. “Roman and I were just talking about what love means.”
“I see.”
I’m not sure I have a right to feel awkward. It was an innocent assumption on his part. Daniel saying we’re not in love doesn’t hurt me. It’s the truth, even if feelings are simmering under the surface. But I still do. I hate to put the burden on Daniel to explain our relationship, which happened faster than a runner setting a new world record.
Roman looks up at me. “Like turns into love. Friends can do the same, but some friends are just friends and will stay that way.” He licks his ice cream before it drips.
My lips part in awe. “Umm . . .”
“Can I go see the ducks now, Dad?”
Patting him on the back, Daniel says, “You’re free to go, but don’t go too far down the dock. Stay close, buddy, okay?”
“Okay.” He pops up, finishing his ice cream and munching on the cone while stepping down to the lower dock near where the ducks wait for visitors to feed them.
Daniel’s hand caresses my shoulder. When I look at him, I say, “I’m impressed how you got out of that one.”
“It wasn’t about getting out of it, Sunshine.” Scooching over, he sits with our legs bumping together. “It was about teaching him that it’s okay to take the scenic route in relationships.” He gives me that smile that’s graced the covers of magazines and headline stories. It’s winning for a reason.
“Are we taking the scenic route, Sutton?”
Wrapping his arm over the back of the bench again, I can feel how much he wants to put it around me. I want the same, but we’re in the middle of everything, sitting here where everybody can see us. “I don’t know. I’m starting to believe I was led here for a reason.”
Angling toward him, I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “What would that be?”
“To find a hidden investment.”
“Ah.” I tilt my shoulders away again and watch Roman toss pieces of his cone in the water for the ducks. “The cottage.”
“No, Summer. You. The cottage is just a good cover.”
My gaze runs back to his, and if I could, I would kiss him right now. But displays at home are one thing. Kissing in public is a whole other. “Do you mean that?”
“I always say what I mean.” I believe him.
My heart beats strong. I want to touch him, to kiss him, and to be held in his arms again. Reaching over, I slip my hand between our legs and scrape my nails over the cotton of his pants. With his eyes ahead on his son, he whispers for my ears only, “Did I tell you how much I liked kissing you?”