Page 67 of To Have and to Scold

“Thanks for that.” I think of how she looked when she sat by Leo, equal parts empathetic and respectful.

She waves her hand away. “Leo’s an awesome kid. It was so tender to see him like that.” She places a palm under her throat. “Makes me want to go give that girl a stern talking to.”

I love the protective tone in her voice, and that’s when I figure I’ve done enough self-talk for the moment. The woman asked me to come over there, so I’m going to. But instead of sitting next to her I reach out my hands. “Want to come in the kitchen with me? I feel like bingeing on whatever I can find. You know, to numb my disappointment over the loss.”

She grasps both of my hands and I pull her to stand. “How’s the jaw?” Her brows squeeze together.

I palpitate it with my fingertips. “Fine. It barely hurts anymore.”

She winces and brings her fingers up to trail gently over the swollen area.

I give an exaggerated hiss and she yelps and snatches her hand away.

“I’m kidding,” I tell her. “That didn’t hurt.”

“I’ll give you something that hurts!” She says in mock anger. “But seriously, there is a bruise.” She knits her brows together.

“Trust me, it’s okay.”

“A strong, very good volleyball player hit you in the jaw with a ball going sixty miles an hour,” she says. “I’d say it’s a badge of honor.”

I grin. “I’d say.”

“In all seriousness, I am sorry.” She presses her hands against my triceps, kneading them gently. “It’s not the first time my klutziness has hurt someone.”

“Now I’ve gotta hear the story. Who else have you injured?”

“I don’t know! I’ve probably blocked it out.”

“Look, you’re forgiven.”

Her smile is brilliant. “Oh, and hey, that other team was really good. Your guys did great.”

A flare of bitterness hits me. “I do not like to lose.”

“I know. It’s kind of cute how serious you get about beach volleyball.” She lets go of my arms. It’s disappointing.

I absently rub a hand against my sore jaw.

“Where’s this food you mentioned?” she asks. “I’m feeling hungry, too.”

I walk with her into my kitchen. I open the cupboards and produce a sleeve of Townhouse crackers. “Cheese and crackers?” I grab an apple from a bowl on my counter, something my mom always had for us growing up. “And fruit?”

“Sounds good,” she says.

I get two kinds of cheeses out of the refrigerator. Dallas begins slicing the apple thinly, expertly. She steps to me, offering me a paper-thin apple slice, her brows raised in a question.

I stoop down and open my mouth and she slides it in, her fingers brushing across my lips. This woman is driving me wild.

I chew the cool, sweet, crunchy apple slice and after I swallow, I peel off a slice of cheese from the packaging. She tilts her chin up and parts her lips. I wish my lips were touching hers instead of the cheese.

She’s got her eyes closed and with her lips parted, it would be so easy to lean down and kiss her. I can’t remember all the reasons I’d told myself to hold back where Dallas is concerned.

Oh yeah. She’s a city girl leaving Willow Cove as soon as she can. I’ve seen it before.

But for the first time in my life, I wonder what it could be like to go with her. Doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s with her.

I couldn’t just drop the business. That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?

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