Page 44 of Villainous Summer

I glanced up to see Summer walking in, her long blonde hair flowing over her tanned shoulders. She wore a low-cut light-pink dress over a white woven bra. The cotton hem swished around her upper thighs as she stopped in the doorway to scan the bar. When her blue eyes landed on mine, a wide smile stretched her face as she approached.

“Hey, Hot Rod.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek as if it were second nature.

I fought the instinct to pull her body to mine. To bask the roses and sunshine of her skin.

The spot where she kissed me seared with heat, and it took all I had not to connect her lips with mine. Her words from the other day playing in my head.

As much as I wanted to hold her, I couldn’t put my hands all over her unless she wanted me to. What was the term she used—sleazeball? I had many terrible traits but to be sleazy toward a woman wouldn’t be one.

As she pulled away, she frowned. “Oh, sorry. I left some—” She swiped her thumb across my cheek. “That lipstick is supposed to be smudge-proof, but you might have a pink mark on your skin for a while.”

The last thing I was worried about was lipstick on my cheek.

“No worries.”

“I’m marking my territory.” She laughed, her clear-sky eyes on me.

It was the gaze of hot days on the water and the soothing feel of a sea-cooled wind.

“I’ll allow it.”

She grabbed my beer and took a sip before making a face. “Ugh. IPA. Disgusting.”

Taking the beer back, I downed the rest of it, still watching her.

Her eyes darted to my throat before snapping back up to my face, her nose wrinkling.

“My cousin Oliver loves them. I don’t know how you can drink that garbage. It tastes like an herbal-scented trash bag with a cigarette thrown in.”

“Delicious.” I smacked my lips dramatically.

She rolled her eyes, and I savored the sight of her face, beautiful, even when annoyed by me.

Turning to the group, I motioned. “Everyone, this is Summer. Summer, this is everyone.”

When I went around the table and gave her each coworker’s name, she did her best at shaking hands and repeating names back.

One of the guys, Eldon, looked starstruck, shaking her hand a few seconds longer than everyone else.

Afterward, I had her sit on the stool beside me. I wanted to place my hand on her knee but stopped myself. When the server came by, she ordered sparkling water with lemon, then whispered to me she didn’t want another repeat of that first party.

“Summer.” Savvy leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Nice dress. It’s very”—she gave her a once-over—“bold.”

Summer glanced over herself, her face blank, as if the comment wasn’t rude. “Thank you. I knitted the bralette myself.”

“You knit?” I asked, my brow raising.

“I contain multitudes.”

“Apparently.”

“Why are you so shocked? Lots of people know how to knit. It’s not a bygone craft or something.”

I coughed to hide my surprise. “No, I know. It’s just that knitting is for grandmas and old people, not—”

She shot me a withering glare. “That kind of ageist thinking is exactly why I do it. Knitting is an art form. I’ve been a member of a local stitch and bitch group for the past few years.”

I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “I concede. You can stitch and bitch as much as you want.”

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