Page 80 of When Sparks Fly

“It’s—” My voice catches. “—it’s more than okay.”

“I found it when I was grabbing things for the window the other day. I meant to ask. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He releases the rope.

“No. I had been wondering where it went. I didn’t even think to look in the garage.”

A grin tugs at his mouth. “Do you trust me?”

His hands find mine and he squeezes. Excited energy radiates off of him in waves. He’s doing his best to keep it contained, but it’s infectious and I grin back at him. For the first time, he appears youthful and carefree.

“Yes, Sutton, I trust you.”

“Good.” He looks back to the tire and then to me suggestively, an indication of his plan. I lift a foot to step forward, but he moves in a flash, swiping my legs out from under me and cradling my back with his other arm.

I squeal and he beams, swinging me in a wide circle while I exert a death grip on his shirt. Then he guides my legs through the hole of the tire and I reach my arms over the top, grabbing the thick rope with both hands. I wonder why the swing was down if the rope and tire are both still intact, when Sutton whispers, “Hold on,” against my ear and my skin chills.

Together, the tire and I shift further into the air, way higher than anticipated, before we plummet. The drop is deep and fast, and I let out what I hope is a tiny scream, but it quickly turns to laughter as the tire returns the way it came.

Lacking any form of control, the tire rotates as it swings so I’m facing Sutton. His wide smile will live on in my memory for eternity. I want it framedon our wall for our children to see. The thought causes my heart to ache, knowing this will be over before it really gets started.

We need to have a serious discussion about what we’re doing because we’re both playing around like there’s no end in sight. Or maybe that's all it is to him.

My thoughts are cut short when Sutton pushes the tire with force again and it twirls gently from the impact. Like a slow twirling top, the tire and I spin back and forth across the lawn as one. Tears from laughter stream down my cheeks, and every few rotations I catch sight of Sutton’s beautifully rugged features.

The laughing becomes so consuming, and I’m so far out of breath, that I lean back deeply, knowing I’m not going to be able to hold on much longer. With perfect timing, Sutton reaches around my midsection and hauls me off the swing, pulling us both down to sit on the cool grass. I flop backward, my sides cramping as I right my breathing.

He follows, setting his hat on its crown and resting his head on his arm, watching me in humored silence. I roll my head to the side to look at him. So much affection seeps from his eyes. Gingerly, he rolls onto his side, propping his head on a hand, and reaches over with the other to press a piece of errant hair behind my ear.

“I love listening to you laugh.”

I’m caught off guard by his admission. Though he’s affectionate with me frequently, and I can feel the growing bond between us, I’m unprepared for his honesty, even if it’s in reference to a quality or action, versus me as a whole.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. Thank you.” I slide my hand through the grass to tangle my fingers with his.

“All set!” comes a shout from the driveway and I startle.

Sutton and I sit up in unison. “Be right there,” I call back, jumping up to grab my wallet, but the guy is already walking to his van and I’m not sure if he heard me.

“I already took care of it,” Sutton says, still seated in the grass. He replaces his hat.

My head snaps his way. “What? Why?”

He stands and looks into my eyes. “Because I wanted to.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Needing something to do with my hands, I fiddle with the end of my braid.

His eyes turn hard and he drops his chin. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Maci.”

Maci.

In some ways it feels so foreign for him to use my given name. And yet there’s an importance to it. He’s not being playful, or coy, or seductive, or even dismissive.

Things are just getting more and more complicated, and this is further proof that I need to finalize things here at the house and get back to Austin. It’s making it harder for everyone for me to drag things out.

“Are you hungry?” I can’t entertain this conversation so I change the subject, eyeing the ground.

“I am.”Nowhis tone is seductive and he takes a step closer.

Just like that, I’m on fire. It’s impossible to be frustrated with him, and even more unlikely that I can be in his general vicinity without being completely and utterly turned on. Thankfully, I know he isn’t free today and I’m determined to set things back on their proper course. “French toast or pancakes?”

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