Page 88 of Mom Ball

I laugh. “Hardly.”

“As long as you don’t think so.” He smirks, and I tense.

I haven’t been on a date ever in my adult life. Probably because when guys have tried to flirt with me, I would send off a vibe that I wasn’t interested. Aniston jokes that I’m covered in anti-interest repellent.

If that’s the case, Nate is immune to it.

The real reason is I’ve never considered having a real relationship with anyone but him. I poured my life into Timothy, my community, and my job. I assumed one day when Timothy was older, I might consider dating.

I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to actually have a second chance with the guy I’ve always loved.

“I would never think you were a disappointment,” I tell Nate.

“Good.” He opens the back door and retrieves the food. “I always worried I wasn’t good enough for you, and thought maybe that’s why—”

I step toward him and grab his forearm. “Never. I was going through some things and didn’t want to drag you down.”

Nate sets the food on the toolbox and stares into my eyes. He swallows, and I glance at his throat. His neck is red and so is his face. I feel a pulse in his arm before he slides it toward me and holds my waist with both hands. My heart speeds as he pulls me closer.

“I’d gladly let you drag me anywhere.”

He leans down, and my breath catches. Before I can exhale, his lips are on mine. My mouth tingles like it’s in shock. I haven’t kissed anyone since . . . well, him.

Am I doing this right? Do I still have ballpark nachos breath? Why didn’t I brush my teeth before I showered?

Then like all the memories that come back so easily, the memory of kissing Nate meshes with the present. Commercial cheese breath and rusty kissing skills aside, I no longer care.

His hands are in my hair, and I’m snuggled close to him. Like a drunk chugging a fifth of whiskey after almost a decade of sobriety, I’m too far gone.

No matter what happens when this kiss ends, I’ll forever be changed.

* * *

Nate

Kissing Brooke is like living out my wildest dream. It’s all I’ve thought about since seeing her by the fence.

I run my fingers through her hair and pull her even closer. It still doesn’t seem real. Maybe because I committed her kisses to memory so well that I could play them out in my mind.

Pathetic? Probably so. But she was my good luck charm many times, even when she was no longer in my life.

Years flash across my mind, leading to this very moment. All the kisses we shared on her front porch and standing in the bleachers, up to the very last kiss in her dorm room. The one I replayed more times than I could count like a favorite song on a burned CD.

Sometimes the memory was a little scratchy, but there’s no skipped details now. It’s like her mouth was made for mine.

Like she was made for me.

I could kiss her all night. But I also want to talk to her. So much is the same between us, but so much has changed. I need to make sure this is more than reliving glory days to her.

Begrudgingly, I pull back. Her eyes blink open and I stare into them. Deep chocolate brown, sparkling in the setting sun.

Her lips are full and pink, and it takes all my restraint to not kiss them again. Instead, I lead her to the tailgate and sit down. “Hungry?”

She laughs. Yeah, that was dumb, but better than confessing I’ve been hung up on her forever. Baby steps, Nate. Don’t scare her off.

I climb into the bed and grab the lasagna, setting it behind her, then jump down. “Just a second.”

With all the kissing, I forgot everything else. I retrieve a bag of plates and forks, along with a cooler, from inside and shut my back door.

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