Page 38 of Another June with You

They didn’t speak after the restraining order comment, and he drove straight to her apartment and shut the car off.

“Thanks for the lift.” She climbed out of the car, and he followed. “You don’t have to walk me in.”

“Let me help with your equipment, at least.” He grabbed her bag and the broken camera, and she reluctantly allowed him.

Once they reached her door, she took the bag and camera from him and set them just inside on the floor, not letting him come in. “Interesting day.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, to say the least.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with your crazy ex-girlfriend.”

“Thanks for trying to be nice to her today. I’m sorry she called you a stripper.”

Shannon let out a little giggle, which grew into a laugh, then full-blown laughter.

It didn’t seem so funny at the time, but now, her laughter was contagious and soon they were both cracking up over it. And it felt really good. So many years had passed since they’d laughed like this together, and it did things to him. Things he wasn’t expecting. But that’s how it had always been with her. They could be doing the most mundane things and a look, a laugh, a touch would ignite something inside him that he had no control over when it came to her.

He thought back to Jacquie’s stripper comment and Shannon’s response. “You … uh, sure started to play the part there for a second, though.” Speaking of igniting a fire within. The sight of her bare shoulder, the feel of her chest against his side, her breath against his neck. Had she been trying to kill him? Because she’d been close to succeeding.

Her laughter caught in her throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was insulted, and I wanted to mess with her.” She made eye contact with him then.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Could I be any more obvious?

“Uh …” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Well, have fun with the guys tonight.” She added a playful punch to the stomach.

He groaned. “Oh, come on.”

She gripped his arm. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“You forgot you shot me?” He lifted his shirt to see if a bruise had formed yet. The site was red and turning purple in a halo around the point of impact.

She gasped at the sight, and her lip stuck out in an apologetic pout.

He dropped his shirt and fixed his eyes on her pouty lip, before pressing his closed fist against her stomach, as if he was going to reciprocate.

She took a step back. “Don’t you dare.” And then she lifted the bottom edge of her shirt until her own halo-shaped bruise was revealed, all purple and blue against smooth creamy skin.

What caught his attention wasn’t the bruise, but two small scars on either side of her stomach, both less than an inch in size.

“What happened here?” He touched one of them with his index finger, and she yanked her shirt down.

“Nothing. Just a scratch.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. He’d seen enough knee injuries on the baseball team to know those were incision scars. “Was it something serious?”

She shook her head, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Are you sure?” His insides twisted as his mind raced through the list of ailments and diseases that could require surgery. Wondering what had caused those scars was enough to drive him crazy with worry, and the longing to protect her overwhelmed him.

“I’m fine, Micah.”

He searched her face, but she wouldn’t make eye contact, so he gently tapped his knuckle to her stomach, hoping to lighten the mood. She didn’t respond at first, and he wasn’t sure she even felt it. But he felt her—soft and warm—and it heated him all over.

“Now we’re even,” he teased.

She reached out, brushing her fingertips against the back of his hand. “Ouch?” Her lips turned up in a playful smile.

He moved the backs of his fingers against the smooth skin of her palm and along the inside of her wrist. He could’ve sworn he felt her heart racing as he skimmed across the vein there. His was beating in the same quick rhythm.

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