Page 44 of All You Need Is Love

“Despite being a large family, we Bakers are actually pretty close. Not a lot divides us. Although …” Shannon attempted a solemn face.

“Go on.”

“There is one thing that we can’t agree on.” The corners of her mouth twitched, but she held back the laugh itching to come out. “Half of us prefer Captain America—the best Avenger—and the other half think Thor is the greatest.”

Marshall chuckled as his body swayed in the swing. “But then there’s Ironman …”

“Oh no. He’s much too sarcastic for my tastes.” She shook her head, grinning. “Though, confession—my cousin made me watch all the movies last year. Before that, I knew nothing about any of them.”

“I’m thoroughly impressed by your knowledge, then.” He tilted his head, smile disappearing. “But in all seriousness, what’s up with you and Quinn?”

Oh. That’s what he’d meant by family drama. “Um. Well. We’re just so different.” Understatement of the year.

“Seems like more than that.” He frowned. “Is the weird vibe between you because of Cody?”

Her eyes narrowed at his mention of the guy she’d partnered with for a high school Spanish project her sophomore year—the guy she’d thought herself in love with.

The one Quinn had suddenly taken an interest in and, basically, stolen from Shannon.

Not that he was hers to steal. Probably he’d never liked her, despite the fact they’d held hands once. But then Quinn had come around, batting her eyes and showing off her midriff in her little cheerleading uniform, and Cody Briggs was on to the prettier Baker sister.

The more confident one.

The better one.

But although it stung, there was another, more powerful memory that stuck out—one she hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Cody was part of the rift between us, but it really started before that.”

Dangling her feet in the sand, Shannon swiped her toes backward and forward. It felt so stupid now, but it had been a big deal when it happened, and she could see now that some of her resentment toward Quinn had begun that night. “My dad took us to this daddy-daughter dance when I was in third or fourth grade. I was so proud of my pink dress—it made me feel like a princess, you know?”

At Marshall’s encouraging nod, she continued. “But then Quinn came out in her dress and looked … well, like a queen.” And it wasn’t just because her face had finally recovered from all the post-accident surgeries she’d had and was no longer puffy and red-hot. There was just something about the way her sister carried herself that evoked a regal air.

“What happened then?”

She cleared her throat. “At the dance, my dad danced more with Quinn than with me, but that was partially my own fault. I was a bit of a wallflower, if you can believe it.”

“Not you.” Marshall’s teasing grin gave Shannon the courage to smile back.

“Crazy, right? Anyway, my dad promised me the final dance, but when it came time for it, my sister convinced him to dance it with her instead.” A sigh slid from her lips, her twitch of a smile gone. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. Quinn always got what she wanted. Still does.”

She remembered how it had felt, standing on the sidelines, watching what was supposed to be her dance with Dad happening without her. Tears had streamed down her cheeks and onto her outfit, ruining the fabric of her new dress.

“He asked if I minded, and of course I said no, because I hate fighting. But deep down I think … it just really hurt that he picked her.” The bumpy loops of the swing’s chain dug into her palms where she gripped them. “Ever since that moment, I’ve known one thing about my sister. That when push comes to shove, everyone will pick her over me. It’s just the way it is.”

Marshall stilled on his seat then stood. His hand reached out, snagging her chain and stopping the movement of her swing as he leaned closer. Shannon swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat and lifted her gaze.

There was that look in his eyes again. Serious, zeroed in, crinkled around the edges. His nose only inches from hers, he finally spoke. “Not everyone.”

And then his lips found hers in the sweetest, softest kiss she could have imagined. Her hands continued to grip the chains of the swing, anchors in the storm swirling inside of her, taking over.

Marshall tipped his head away for a moment, looking at her deeper, fuller before he swept back in for another kiss, this one to match his gaze. And Shannon couldn’t help but let go—of the chains, of the restraint that had held her back all her life.

Standing, she looped her arms around his neck. His kiss was fire and water and breath and life and everything she needed to keep going, to believe that she was more than what she’d always believed. That this man with such a heart and zest and intelligence would want her—incredible.

While his hands held her firmly at the waist, Marshall’s lips followed the curve of her jaw before trailing down to the warm creases of her neck. A soft moan rumbling in her chest, Shannon ran her fingers through the tuft along the edge of his hairline just above his neck, and his grip on her tightened before he pulled back.

“Shannon, what are you doing to me?”

Reality flooded back to her. Senses returned—more than the flashing heat and cold that left her feeling numb like frostbite had taken hold. Shannon blinked.

No. She wasn’t ready to start thinking about the what-ifs or what tomorrow would bring.

So she tugged his head back down to her mouth and, just before giving in to another kiss, whispered a reply against his lips. “What I’ve been wanting to do since I first met you.”

Then she plunged back into the abyss.

Oh, my.

What a lovely way to drown.

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