Page 127 of Promise Me Not

We stay on the ride two more times, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a low, loving voice I know all too well whispers…

What if this is a ride you never get off?

Mason

After two longdays in the park, we only lasted until after lunch on the third and final one, deciding to head back to the hotel to hit up the tiki-style restaurant beside the pool for an early dinner.

We order a few items from the appetizer menu and sit out on the patio, the weather in March as nice as it is in May here, with maybe a little less heat depending on the day. When Payton comes back from the restroom, she spots the two frozen daiquiris in front of our plates and raises a blond brow.

“It’s little man. Makes people think I’m older,” I tease. “Well, that and the fake ID Brady got me.”

Payton laughs, shaking her head and eyeing the fresh, fruity drink before her. “What if they ask for mine?”

“Just pick up Deaton, and she’ll forget all about it.”

“Doubtful.” She chews her lip, gingerly reaching out for the drink, but pushes it my way with a small smile. “I appreciate it and it looks amazing, but I can’t have alcohol quite yet.”

Leaning forward, I push it right back. “I know. That’s why yours is a virgin and mine is not.”

She stares for a moment, and then a smile spreads across her face, and she yanks it back. “Well, in that case.” She takes a long drink, wincing. “Oh my, good, so good, but holy brain freeze.”

Chuckling, I slouch in my chair, spinning the little toy hanging from the arc of Deaton’s stroller again and again, loving the squawky sounds he makes as he does his best to grab it. He’s kicking his feet like crazy, and I can’t help but reach out and tickle the bottoms.

“Oh, so you’re ticklish, huh, little man.” I tickle up his thighs and back down.

He squirms and stuffs his hands in his mouth, smiling around his chubby fingers and sending drool down his chin.

I smile, and when I feel her eyes on me, I glance up.

Sure enough, she’s staring, straw stuck between her lips, hair lying down her back for the first time in a while.

I reach out, tugging it gently, and her mouth curls over the straw, a softness settled across her.

“He likes you,” she says.

“Pshhh.” I grin, looking back down at my guy. “Of course he does. I’m his favorite, ain’t that right?” I lean in, pretending like he’s whispering something. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see.” I play it out, winking at him for show, and then I thrust my hand out, tickling his mama along the ribs.

She squeals in laughter, tossing her head back, fingers wrapped around the drink. I bend in more, pressing my fingers high on her ribs, and she twists and shifts, her ass sliding right off the chair, but I catch her, half standing over her as I tug her back up. The move has me leaning over her completely, her head dropped back, staring up at me with innocent yetindulgenteyes.

Yeah.

She feels it. This intangible marking, like the laces of a football, weaving us together to create the perfect placement. The perfect pair. We’re tied in a way neither of us expected.

A way I can’t fight. Don’t want to.

I lean down, eyes closing as I press my lips to her cheek, inhaling her and holding on for a moment longer before I lower into my seat once more.

When I look up, her cheeks are as red as the lipstick she put on to match the ears on top of her head, and I can’t help but wonder if every part of her changes colors this way.

Heat builds in my core, but thankfully, Deaton starts to whine, and I snap out of it, quickly rushing to unbuckle and lift him into my arms.

Little man goes silent instantly, laying his little chin on my shoulder, taking a fistful of my shirt and tugging it to his mouth.

Payton’s chuckle is soft, and she shakes her head, taking the last wing from the plate in the center. “Such a spoiled little guy.”

“Say, ‘Damn straight, Mama.’”

Payton raises a brow, and I laugh louder.

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