Page 9 of A Summer Mismatch
CHAPTER FIVE
Julia
CameronzoomedpastJuliato tackle-hug a man wearing neon green, pink, and yellow polka-dot scrubs with a utility vest and belt that didn’t quite match the playfulness of his clothing.
The man staggered backward dramatically, his navy bucket hat putting his face in shadows, while Cameron laughed from deep in his gut. “Whoa! That’s an elephant-sized hug.” The man gave him knuckles. “How’s life treating you? You’re out of school for the summer?”
“Joos,” Cameron said excitedly as Julia moved closer. He pulled up his talker and navigated to the stories page. It had six pictures, and each picture corresponded to an entire sentence that had been preprogramed by Julia’s mom. Cameron pressed the first three buttons, which were pictures of his parents, a picture of a calendar, and a picture of Julia. The voice that spoke was a deep male voice. “Mom and Dad are in Europe. They will be home in July. I am staying with my sister Julia.”
“Julia’s house, huh? Your mom told me she’d be bringing you.” As the man said this, he looked up, and Julia caught her first good glimpse of his face. The unbelievably handsome and good-smelling man from the gas station? The one she confessed fictional murder to?
No. Nope. Uh uh. She was not this unlucky. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her without all the makeup.
But, from the slow smile that spread across his face, she knew he recognized her instantly.
And suddenly, inexplicably, she had a craving for salsa.
He took a few steps closer to Julia and held out his hand, Cameron following closely behind. Julia reluctantly slid her palm into his when all she wanted to do was grab Cameron’s arm and run. Forget bringing the school here for a field trip. She was never coming back. Except she’d promised to bring Cameron every Tuesday for the next eight weeks.
“Nice to see you again. Today seems like a better day for you.”
“You’d think,” she said weakly, her mind drifting back to Timothy’s text. A crease of concern dipped between his brows.
“No, I’m good,” she was quick to reassure him. “So good. Really good.”Say good a few more times, Julia. Really convince him.
“We didn’t actually officially meet last time. I’m Logan Kent. And you must be Julia Peters, author and sister extraordinaire.”
“That’s me,” she replied.
They were still clasping hands. His hands were calloused and work-roughened, but his grip was gentle. Was it possible that he’d gotten even better-looking in just a few weeks? Perhaps being newly-single was making him seem extra attractive. Like when she was vitamin C deficient last summer and her body craved oranges.
Maybe she was just hungry, all these cravings for salsa and oranges.
His grin widened, and she noticed the tiniest dimple in his right cheek, cuddled up to the well-formed smile lines around his mouth. She bet his mouth tasted good too.
She dropped his hand and resolved to get an early dinner on the way home. A shiver of disappointment rolled across her skin at the loss of his touch. Which was ridiculous. It was a continual shiver of embarrassment, more likely.
“Julia pretty.” Cameron grinned at her, clearly proud of navigating a two-word sentence she’d taught him that weekend. Yes, she’d taught him a self-complimentary phrase. But in her defense, it was nice to hear every once in a while. And she’d taught him handsome too, so it was even.
“I agree,” Logan said. The amused crinkles around his eyes highlighted the sun-burnt pink of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.
“Thanks, Logan.” Julia cleared her throat and turned to Cameron. “And you’re my handsome brother.”
Cameron studied the talker and pushed the right icons. “Cameron handsome. Vet handsome.”
“Yes, and Logan the vet too.” Her gaze swept over Logan’s wholesome, boy-next-door appearance—which was somehow giving her less-than-wholesome thoughts—grateful for the sunglasses hiding her eyes.
All she knew was if Logan committed a crime and she was asked to help a police artist sketch him, she was fairly certain she could provide the most detailed description in history. She was just doing her citizenly duty by checking him out thoroughly.
Logan sucked in his lower lip, clearly amused. Yep, she was staring. The sunglasses couldn’t hide everything.
“Cameron, do you have Logan’s name programmed in your talker?” She swiveled to her brother and held out her hand for the talker, but he pulled it close to his chest. “Mine,” he said, using his voice. Mine was one of his clearest, and most favorite, words to vocalize. She knew to respect his wishes when it came to his talker.
“Your mom took my picture and made a button with my name, but he prefers to use vet.” Logan shrugged. “I’m cool with it, right, buddy?”
Logan held out his hand for a high-five, and Cameron complied with an excited exhale before turning his back to them both without a goodbye, and retreating to his bench to watch the elephants.
Cameron loved positive attention like this. Sometimes people didn’t know how to talk to him, so they ignored him. Cameron didn’t always reciprocate, and it took a confident person to not take it personal when Cameron responded slowly, didn’t respond at all, or ended a conversation abruptly by walking away.
