Page 102 of Summer Ever After
Rapid heartbeats fire one after the other the second I get a glimpse of her. She rarely wears her hair up, so today’s messy bun has me wishing I could drop my lips to the base of her throat and kiss a trail up her neck.
Since our kiss last week, I’ve been having all sorts of fantasies about holding Jane in my arms and pressing my mouth to hers. Day and night, mid-tournament, or downtime…the thoughts don’t stop. Why would a family-friendly pancake breakfast be any different? This can’t be a healthy way to live.
She tugs her oversized blueOh My StarsT-shirt away from her chest like she’s trying to get some air. The corner is tied into a knot, showing a peek of her torso that’s both incredibly cute and sexy—I’m the one who’s going to be fanning myself all day.
“Heath, get some food for my grandma.” Tala hands him two paper plates. “She’s sitting over in the shade.”
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite family!” Jane beams as she plops some pancakes onto Jack’s and Serenity’s plates. Her gaze moves to me. Despite just wanting to be friends, her eyes light up, and her lips lift into a smile that kills me. “And my favorite pro golfer,” she says as she slides a few pancakes onto my plate.
I smile back. I wouldn’t even be able to stop myself if I wanted to. “Look at you, running the show.”
“Oh, no.” She gestures behind her to the grill. “Marlyss is the real chef.”
The line next to me moves, and it’s clear I need to move with it, but that takes me farther away from Jane—a place I don’t want to be.
I hand my plate to Heath, making him juggle the third addition to his pile. “It looks like you guys could use more hands back there.” I crawl under the table, popping up on the other side, next to her. “I’m a great helper.”
“Alright, then.” Her smile grows. “You can be over egg distribution.”
“Alright.” I grin, knowing there’s absolutely no way I can just be friends with this woman.
I think my ego is going to win out here.
Jane
I’ve always said the Fourth of July is the most underrated holiday for falling in love.
There’s food.
Games.
Dancing.
Sparklers.
And the most romantic part of all: fireworks.
I'm blaming my Fourth of July theory for the flirty way I’m gazing up at Walker right now. He’s wearing his sponsor hat—which we’ve already established makes him look crazy-hot—navy golf shorts, and a fitted white T-shirt. Really, hisoutfit is basic, but there’s nothing basic about how my stomach dips every time I glance at him.
“So you’re in town?” I half expected not to see him again until the community pool golf fundraiser next week.
“I’m in town.” He scoops a side of eggs onto the girl’s plate in front of him while also eyeing me with a smirk. “I’m still testing your theory about hanging out with my family more.”
“That’s good. Youshouldkeep hanging out with them.” I hit the stack of pancakes with my spatula, an easy way to get rid of some of the sexual tension I feel from Walker’s shoulder brushing against mine. “Congratulations on the golf tournament, by the way. I heard you finished ninth.”
I didn’t hear.
I watched it live while I worked on the schedule for the golf fundraiser. I knew it would be kryptonite for my heart, but I did it anyway. And can I just tell you how fond I am of his fist pump when he makes a crucial putt? It’s next-level attractive. There may have been some rewinding involved.
“Thanks, I was proud of finishing ninth.”
“Walker Collins, proud of something other than first place?”
“I know it’s a big step for me, right?”
“It’s a good step.” My gaze meets his. “You should be proud.”
“What about you? How did your date with Noah go?”
