Page 46 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

I swallow hard. “Rough week?” I shouldn’t have to ask. Normally, I’d know, because we’d have eaten every lunch together, hung out more than once. But other than our drive to San Luis Obispo on Monday, we haven’t spent more than ten minutes alone together. Not unless you count sleeping in the same room.

But since we’re not both awake for most of that, I don’t.

He runs a hand through his hair before setting his hat on the kitchen counter. “Just busy.”

“Did you ever hear back from Mitchell McGraff?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go check out the tents and stay overnight the weekend after next if that’s okay.” He pauses, his brow furrowed like he wants to say more. But then he shakes his head. “How about you? Seemed like you and Ryder had a good afternoon? Something about a scooter race?”

I laugh. “Yeah, he thought he could beat me around the block.” I make a face. “He was right. How’d you know about that?”

“He told me while you were making dinner.”

“Right.” I nearly burnt the chicken earlier, too distracted by watching him push Ryder on the swings out back through the window over the kitchen table. The sight had my heart doing all sorts of naughty things like squeezing and thumping and tap dancing. “Well, Ryder is a doll, as always. But fair warning—he said he’s over the scooter and wants you to teach him how to ride a bike now. So watch out. The request is coming.”

“Oh, it already came. He’ll be a tyrant on wheels, that one.” Jordan chuckles, then tilts his head, studying me. “And the bakery? How’s that going?”

“Fine. Marla hasn’t really had time to walk me through the business plan or anything.”

“Gotcha. Oh hey, I’ve got some free time Monday if you want to go sign the loan documents at the bank.”

“That might work. Pete was still drawing them up, I think.” But I’m not in a rush. Because ever since I said yes to Marla, I’ve had an unexplainable pit in my stomach. Probably just nerves. Change is hard. Nerves would make sense.

“Just say the word when you need me.” Jordan rounds the couch and plops down, reaching for the remote. Maybe he wants his privacy. I should go… But no. That will only make things more awkward.

And how am I supposed to follow April’s advice—to explore the possibility ofmore—if I’m constantly retreating from what’s uncomfortable?

So, I sit down beside Jordan.

He wiggles the remote. “You wanna pick?”

“Sure.” Our fingers brush—I shiver—as he hands it over. I navigate to a movie I didn’t get a chance to watch over Christmas this year. Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman’s faces smile at each other on the screen. “This okay?”

“You kidding?” He stands, grabs a few blankets, and offers me one. “I’m always in aWhile You Were Sleepingmood.”

“Ha ha. And thanks,” I say as I take a fuzzy red blanket. Tucking it around my legs, I shift and lean back against the pillow on the opposite side of the couch from him, stretching out my legs so my feet sit against his thigh. “Me too.”

“Hey, I’m serious. It’s a good movie. Your mom’s favorite, right?”

“Mmm hmm.” He’s so good at remembering those kinds of details. Pressing my lips together, I tap the side of the remote and lower it to my lap without starting the movie. “Other than baking, watching movies with her was my favorite thing to do. She knew every line by heart, and soon, I did too. We’d take turns saying things in silly voices. Sigh at the swoony parts. It was the best.”

“Shewas really great.”

“She was.” I sigh, the ache of missing her coming swift and strong.

Jordan sets his hand absently on the top of my right foot, which is buried under the blanket and my sock.

And yet, I feel the electric pulse of his touch through all of the material.

How did this happen? He’s touched me so many times, just like this, right here on this very couch. So how did I never feel this before?

“You’re so much like her, Lee.” His soothing palm moves back and forth over my foot. “So sweet, so caring. So maternal, taking care of everyone around you. Ryder has been so lucky to have you as a mom, even if it’s only temporary.”

A tear slips unbidden down my cheek. Then another.

His hand stills. “Oh no, what did I say to make you cry?”

I backhand away the moisture. “Nothing. No, it’s not you.”

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