Page 14 of The Rebound
My phone buzzes. When I pick it up to see a text from Saint, my heart involuntarily squeezes.
You make it home okay?
I almost laugh. Of course I made it home okay. It was, what, a dozen steps?
But after talking to my mom, I’m sure I’ve read this situation all wrong. Saint is probably just taking pity on his poor, pregnant neighbor and generally being a good person. It was stupid of me to fantasize otherwise. He’s gorgeous and definitely not interested in me like that. I’m lucky to have anyone around to support me right now. One small blessing, I guess.
I type out a response, my thumb hovering over theSENDicon while I read it over and over again.
Made it down the hall in one piece miraculously. Thanks for caring. :-)
I huff out a sigh, deleting the text and opting for a simple thumbs-up emoji, then send it before I can obsess any more. Now isn’t the time to flirt over text. I’m not some horny teenager anymore, crafting the perfect text to the boy I like.
It’s time to act like an adult.
5
SAINT
Saturday, the farmers’ market is brimming with people—young couples crowding around the booths and stands, little kids running wild around their parents’ legs, dogs panting in the sun.
I’m not gonna lie, this is the kind of scene I feel like a total outcast in. Don’t get me wrong, I love a day spent outside, and I’m not one to shy away from a crowd. But as soon as there are children underfoot, I feel like I’ve stumbled into Oz, and I’m one wrong step away from tripping over a munchkin. Maybe it’s that I’m too big, or because I never know what to say to little people, but I’m outside my comfort zone for sure.
Kinley, on the other hand, is totally in her element. In a sporty outfit with a tote bag slung over her shoulder, she looks like just about any other young mom out here. Well, that’s not entirely true. We’ve established that Kinley isn’t just any mom; she’s ahotmom.
With a pink halter top that accentuates her cleavage and a pair of maternity yoga pants stretched high over her round belly, Kinley is like a modern-day fertility goddess. Not to mention her long dark ponytail poking out of the back of her baseball cap.
God, I love a woman with a ponytail. Perfect for grabbing onto when—
A little girl with curly blond hair runs in front of us, halting my filthy thoughts as I almost trip over her.
“Munchkins,” I mutter under my breath.
Kinley turns to me with an amused smile. “Watch out there, BFG. Tiny humans are afoot.”
Chuckling, I shake my head at her. Different franchise, butdamn, does this woman get my sense of humor. I shoot her a lopsided grin, but she’s busy watching the little girl climb into her dad’s arms with a fond smile.
My chest tightens with anxiety as I eye the guy who’s signed his freedom away to a tiny snot-faced warden. I guess he looks pretty happy about it, though, doesn’t he?
It still hasn’t hit me that Kinley is going to have one of those soon. We haven’t talked much about how she’s feeling about all that, and I’m certainly no poet when it comes to sharing thoughts and feelings, so I haven’t brought it up.
I lead us toward a colorful stand offering just about every shade of the rainbow in organic produce. Kinley does that cute little squirm she does when she’s excited as she looks over the options. Standing behind her with one hand gripping the metal piping of the awning, I’m able to keep other shoppers from crowding her space. I’m also blocking the sun that’s creeping under the tent so she doesn’t overheat. It’s nice to use my bulk for something other than hockey for once.
Perplexed, I watch as she inspects the dragon fruit with an appraising look. I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea about what to do with a dragon fruit.
“Those plums look delicious,” I murmur into her ear, not realizing how close my lips are to her skin until I feel my own breath bounce off her cheek.
She looks up at me with wide eyes, realizing how close we’re standing, and points to a particularly shiny plum among the duller ones.
“That one?” I ask, plucking it from the selection when she nods.
I hold it out to her, but when she reaches for it, I whip my hand back with a smirk and take a big juicy bite. Kinley’s eyes go wide as she glances at the vendor, who’s busy with another customer. She shakes her head at me like a true mom, but there’s a youthful giddiness in her smile.
I hold the plum back out to her, offering her the unbitten side. But instead of taking it, Kinley wraps her hand around my wrist, her fingers locked against my pulse. Then she leans forward and presses her pink lips to the dark fruit, penetrating the skin with her teeth and sucking the juices into her mouth.
All the while, our eyes are locked in an unspoken game ofwho will break eye contact first.
I sure as hell won’t. Even though I know for a fact my pulse jumped from zero to arrhythmia, and she most definitely can feel my blood banging away beneath the skin of my wrist, I don’t care. I love a challenge, especially when my contender is as sexy as Kinley.
