Page 60 of The Snowflake Effect

As if. But Jackson tosses his backpack to Kolton and wiggles into the swing, smacking his shoes together while I move behind him.

I pull him back and say, “I’ll push on the count of three.”

“Actually,” Kolton calls, “I count to four.”

Pausing, I squint at him. “Four?”

“Four.”

“Who counts to four? In the history of jungle gyms, no one has ever counted to four.”

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t a swing-set rulebook stating the precise number a person must reach before the big push.”

He’s getting feisty with me. Or maybe we’re getting feisty with each other. “But that’s like singing ‘Happy Birthday’ after the candles have been blown out. It’s just not done.”

He widens his stance in a familiar show of authority. Like he’s right. Like I won’t argue this until I’m blue in the face. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’ll always be this way with each other: challenging and fiery.

Kolton’s usual exasperation is hidden by the gleam in his chocolate eyes. “In this family, we count to four, and we sing ‘Happy Birthday’ after the wish and the candles.”

I almost let the swing slip through my fingers. “You can’t be serious. How am I supposed to date you now? I mean, it was one thing⁠—”

“Shay?” Jackson kicks his legs, jostling the chains in my hands. “Can you push me now?”

Right. Jackson. The adorable boy who asked me to play with him.

I peel my eyes away from the sexy man pushing my buttons and focus on his son. “There’s nothing I’d love more. What number should I count to?”

“Four,” he says, and Kolton smirks like he just won the World Series of Poker.

Ignoring him, I grip the swing. “One,” I sing, pulling Jackson farther back. “Two.” He leans into me and tenses. “Three.” I force myself to wait. “Four!”

Jackson squeals as I launch him forward, the sound spiraling through the air, followed by a string of giggles. With each shove, he laughs harder and Kolton grins wider and I’m no longer sure it matters what number we reached.

As I’m getting into my groove, Kolton’s cell rings, and he steps away to answer the call. He ducks his head and rubs the side of his neck. He nods, then glances at us and waves the phone at Jackson. “Nana wants to say hi.”

Jackson reaches for his dad before he comes to a stop, and the swing dips forward. Visions of a face-plant complete with bloody nose and missing teeth have me latching my arm around his waist. The second I loosen my hold, he’s off running, but my heart stays lodged in my throat. Already, protectiveness for this boy surges through me.

As he chatters to his grandmother, my pulse slows, and Kolton nods to a nearby bench. I want to tell him how grateful and honored I am to get to know his son, but he’s gazing at me in that sexy way of his. The words turn to steam in my mouth.

I sit beside him, my knee brushing his. He slings his arm over the bench back. His thumb comes to rest on my shoulder. We’re barely touching, but I am aware. So freaking a-ware. Little kid shrieks and the occasional passing car punctuate the sexual tension.

“So you really count to four?” I ask.

Chuckling, he says, “Give it up.” But he moves his thumb closer to my neck. My very warm and tingly neck.

I tilt my head back to soak up the sun…and maybe to get closer to his hand. “Which grandmother called?”

“Marina’s mother. My stepmom’s three boys run her ragged, and my mother isn’t exactly involved. She loves Jackson. She’s just busy with her life and doesn’t like to meddle.”

“But Marina’s mother does? Likes to be involved, I mean.”

He shifts closer, the full expanse of his hand moving to my shoulder, covering it with warmth. I keep my eyes closed. “Yeah,” he says. “She’s always offering to babysit and goes out of her way to pick him up from school, and she spends hours with him reading and doing puzzles and making the food he likes. She’s a godsend, really.”

It’s easy to forget what Kolton has been through—the hardship, losing Marina and raising their son on his own. Shading my eyes, I glance at Jackson. He’s sitting on the grass, pulling out stalks as he chatters on the phone, unaware of how much joy he brings to the people in his life.

“Does she call often?” I ask.

“Is every day often?”