Page 58 of Just One Season
When I look back at Lucy, she’s staring at me with a warm smile on her face. And I swear her gaze flits quickly from my eyes to my lips.
“Want to make a s’more?” I wonder if she’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her.
“Of course I want to make a s’more.”
“I can handle this, Kellie. Go on,” Harley says. “Help your little cream puff make a s’more.”
“Christ,” I grumble and grab supplies. “Stop eavesdropping.”
Lucy laughs and follows me to the bonfire. Her red curls are loose around her head, and I take a moment to absorb her. She’s gorgeous. I thought so from that first moment on the ice only a month ago, when I handed her Waffles. But each time I’ve seen her, she gets prettier.
Even in a soccer uniform.
Or maybe it’s just how I’m seeing her that’s evolving.
We sit on an empty hay bale, and Lucy stabs a giant marshmallow onto the skewer. She looks at me questioningly.
“Roast my marshmallow for me? Honestly, I’ll probably fall into the fire, or my hair will go up in flames.”
I laugh and take the skewer, stepping close to the fire.
“I’m kind of an expert at this.”
“You’re a big s’mores household?”
“Sure am. I have a built-in fire pit in the backyard and always have s’mores ingredients on hand. We switch it up sometimes and use peanut butter cups or caramel chocolate.” I glance at Lucy.
“Sounds amazing.” Lucy licks her lips, and I almost drop the skewer into the fire. “How’s Ava feeling after this morning? She did a great job out there.”
“She was so happy. She can’t stop talking about Coach Lucy and Bear on the sidelines.” Honestly, the girl loves Lucy. Even Bri has been impressed.
“I’m so glad she had fun.” Lucy gives me a giant smile. “Hurry with the s’more, roo, I’m starved.”
I turn back to the roasting marshmallow. “The key to a perfect s’more is patience. Low and even heat over hot coals, no catching fire. The marshmallow or you.” Lucy giggles, and I twist the marshmallow, perfectly browning each side. “Got that chocolate on the graham cracker?”
“Yes, chef.”
I turn and carefully place the gooey, brown marshmallow on top of the chocolate she’s set on one of the graham crackers, then sandwich it in with another and gently pull the skewer out.
“There. Let the chocolate melt for a second.”
“It’s beautiful.” Lucy takes a big, messy bite and moans as the s’more breaks apart in her teeth, sending crumbs all over the place. I settle next to her on the hay bale as she finishes every last bite.
She attempts to lick the chocolate off her lips, and I try not to stare.
“You’ve still got chocolate all over your face.” I sigh and pull a napkin out of my pocket. “No wonder Ava likes you. She eats s’mores the same way.”
“Hey,” Lucy starts, but stops when I run the napkin below her lip, then touch the corners of her mouth gently.
“There. You’re good.” I swallow.
She’s good, but am I?
“Thanks.” Lucy presses her lips together, suppressing a smile.
“Ready to stroll?”
Lucy nods. I hold out my hand and she slips hers into mine, letting me pull her up off the bale.
