Page 12 of Hers to Kiss
Keke arched a brow. “Good point. Well, for you maybe it’s not that easy. But there is a way.”
He was within inches of her in a flash. “How?” he breathed.
Her body instinctively swayed toward him, and she took a step back. “Swagger. Have you ever seen a guywalk up to a girl, back her against a wall, and kiss her?”
Pete sighed and nodded. “Yup. Taylor Morgan.”
“Who’s Taylor Morgan?”
“Showed up for senior year. The quintessential bad boy complete with a leather jacket he wore all year-round. How did he not sweat in May?”
Keke snorted. Springfield did tend to get a little warm in the spring and summer months. Even September smoked.
“Black hair?” Keke asked.
“And long enough that it curled over his forehead and at his neck,” he said dryly.
Keke fingered Pete’s dark brown curls that had fallen over his forehead. “I like this, by the way. And with the scruff”—she ran a finger over his jaw and it twitched—“which we’ll talk about later.”
“Nothing’s wrong with my beard,” he challenged, angling his head away from her touch.
“If you want to kiss a girl, you can’t be eating your hair.”
Pete grimaced. “I’ll let you have that one.”
“You let me? Ha! I won that one hands down.”
Pete grinned again. An easy smile that relaxed Keke. “And smile—like that. Say your name and smile. Master those two things first, and you’ll be well on your way.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s only lesson one. There’s more to come.”
“I have a feeling they’ll get harder.”
Keke laughed. “Depends on the work you put into it. You need to work to win a girl. A lot of it is effort. Put in the right amount, and she’s yours.”
A curious look crossed his features, like he was reducing effort to a math problem, only he was missing part of the equation. “What’s the right amount?”
“Varies, but if you get encouragement from her, you’ll have a pretty good idea. Give me one week, and you’ll have Lea begging you to stay here and not go to Cornell.”
Pete frowned. “How long are you staying? You have a job lined up here?”
Keke returned to the shelf and her pile of toiletries. “Just the week, as a favor to Bertie. After that, I’m out.”
“Out where?”
She finished placing the toiletries on the shelf and glided across the room to where he sat on one of the beds. “L.A. I’ve got an audition.”
His gaze shifted to her legs. “To dance?”
“Acting. There’ll be some dancing as well.”
He studied her face for a moment. Keke rubbed her arms, wondering what he thought, even though she shouldn’t care. Goosebumps formed the longer the appraisal lasted. Was he impressed?
“You didn’t come back for his funeral.”
Keke moved to the last untouched bed. Pete joined her, and they worked the sheet together. “Didn’t feel like I needed to. He’s dead. Great.”
“You really feel that way? About your own father?”
Keke bristled at Pete’s accusatory tone. If only her father had lived long enough to see her accomplishments. Then he would’ve had to admit how wrong he was about her. Admit how impressed he was.
“How I feel about it is none of your business.” She slammed the pillow at the head of the bed. “I never wanted to come back, period. I did it for Bertie. And like I said, at the end of this camp session, I’m out for good.”
Keke marched across the cabin toward the door.
“Wait, Keighly!”
She shoved the door open and left.
