Page 21 of XOXO, Summer
If captured, the excitement on Roman’s face could light up an arena. “They’re my favorite.”
She says, “You’re in luck. I was just about to bake some.” That’s all it takes for Dolly to win over my son. Though, I’m weak to a good cookie too, so I don’t blame him. Roman gets wrapped under her arm, leading him to the kitchen. “Summer, show our guest around.”
“My mom likes snickerdoodles.” I can hear him tellingher about his mom when I didn’t even know that about Mia. Why would I, though? We didn’t make it past a second date before we were trying to figure out the logistics of raising a son when we weren’t together.
It’s all worked out, but I’m glad Roman knows that kind of stuff.
“She forgets we’re grown sometimes,” Summer says, tapping the toe of her shoe on the floor.
She’s all grown, alright. “I’m sure it’s still great to have her close.”
Straightening her posture and standing on two feet again, she has a shine in her eyes that’s brightened since we arrived. “It is.” Presenting the room in front of us, she says, “The family room.” Looking at the corner, she waffles. “The kitchen is back there. The dining room up front and the bathroom. We came here so you could use it, so don’t be shy.”
“I’m good.” I glance at the stairs. “What’s upstairs?”
She laughs, pressing her hand to her chest and rubbing gently. “We’re not going upstairs.” Grabbing hold of a baluster that wobbles, she stills it and takes two steps up. Incredibly, she’s still shorter than me. “We got wet together. That was all.”
“Getting wet together justifies a tour up there, if you ask me.”
“That’s why I’m not asking.” Eyeing her lips as she licks them and then sucks the bottom under her top teeth, I realize that resisting her is going to be a challenge. “But can I ask you something personal?”
“I like when we get personal.”
Her hold on the wood tightens, whitening her fingertips. Nervous? “Are you always this flirtatious?”
“Is that what this is? Flirting?” I tilt my head to study theminutest of reactions she’s willing to reveal—the quick gnaw on the inside of her cheek, the sway of her body, her gaze distancing when she’s deep in thought.
“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck?—”
“I think it’s safe to call this a duck. But to answer your question, no, I’m not.”
That pretty smile of hers reaches her eyes, and when she looks down, a spray of her lashes kisses the tops of her cheeks. “I should change my clothes.”
I look at the dress that’s dried and stretched out more than it was, and ask, “Should I wait here for you?”
She nods with a growing grin. “Sounds like a good option since you’re not coming upstairs with me.”She winks.She winks at me, and my whole chest tightens as I grin like a fucking fool. “Or you could spend time with Dolly and make cookies.”
“It’s not a bad option.”
“Why do I get the distinct impression you’re up to no good, Mr. Sutton?”
“I prefer it when you call me Daniel.” Moving closer, I rest my hand over hers and lower my voice. “It feels less like we’re strangers.”
She leans in, and whispers, “We practicallyarestrangers, though, so acting like we’re not doesn’t change the facts.”
“We can change?—”
“I didn’t know we had company.”
My eyes dash to the girl at the top of the stairs as I move away from Summer. Summer’s gaze whips over her shoulder as she tucks strands of hair behind her ear. She’s breathless before she even speaks, and when she does, she asks, “Spring? Um . . .” Returning her attention to me, she says, “This is the summer tenant next door.”
The girl’s hair is a shade or two darker than Summer’s, andher eyes are just as blue as she studies us like we just got busted. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Apparently, that smirk runs in the family. Thumbing over her shoulder, she adds, “I can go back upst?—”
“No, you didn’t interrupt.” Summer peeks at me before angling toward who I assume is a sister who’s starting down the stairs again. “This is Daniel Sutton.”
Embracing Summer’s words, she bops down the stairs with an energy I haven’t felt in years, only stopping when she reaches the same step her sister is already occupying. Holding her hand out, she says, “Spring Season.”
I shoot a look straight at Summer and then back before shaking her hand. “Spring?” Releasing her, I look at Summer, and ask, “As in the four seasons?”
