Page 77 of Make Her Mine

But then, and now, I’ve settled on being glad he didn’t. Kissing in public for show is one thing. Kissing in private is something else entirely.

We stop at a few tables to check out crafts, to sniff handmade candles and soaps, and to sample baked goods. My mom owns a bakery, so I’m never without amazing carbs, but some of the ladies in town really know how to make sourdough bread, and banana bread, or strawberry rhubarb pie, and my mom forgives us for partaking from others this time of year.

Eventually we arrive at the dunk tank.

“Hey, ladies.” Graham comes strolling over with a grin. He’s holding a caramel apple.

“Hey, have you seen Jefferson?” Ginny asks her brother.

I hear the clang of the target at the tank being hit, the splash of someone hitting the water, and the cheer of the crowd.

“Yeah.” Graham’s gaze lands on me. “Your boy has single-handedly gotten them halfway to their goal just during his hour.”

My boy.

Even Graham is in on this.

I just roll my eyes.

Of course, Jefferson is over there throwing balls. The dunk tank is raising money for some new equipment in the weight room that the high school sports teams use but that is also open to the public after hours.

There’s plenty of money in our town. Jefferson, Graham, and Ginny’s family for instance. Their father’s company brings in hundreds of millions. Of course, Mason and his partner, Lauren Davis-Bennett, also spend a lot on research and development as well as funding a multitude of charitable projects around the world.

The Spencers, Joe and Levi, are also both worth millions. And any of them would give money to Sapphire Falls for literally anything. But the community feels strongly about raising money for projects and letting everyone contribute as much as they can.

And it works. Sometimes the more affluent members of our community chip in if things fall short of the final goal, but the town shows up for needs over and over again.

It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside every time.

I don’t even correct Graham on calling Jefferson ‘my boy’. I shrug. “Well, it’s no shock he’s doing well. He’s got a pretty great arm.”

Graham laughs. “He’s not dunking people. He’s the one getting dunked.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

Graham nods. “The first twenty people in line were his players. And they all dropped some pretty good money. Especially since he was trash-talking them from his perch. Even after he went under the first few times.”

I laugh. That all tracks.

“But then he took his shirt off and the line got a little more…estrogen filled.”

I take that in and work very hard on not reacting.

Because why would I react?

Just because I can easily flash back to last night in his living room when he came into the room without a shirt on when Zach was at the door?

Just because I can still feel the heat and firmness of his body against mine from our kiss in the parking lot?

So what? Like I said before, Jefferson Riley is good looking. It’s simply an objective fact. It’s not like I think I’m the only one to notice.

“Oh really?” Mia asks. “What kind of estrogen?” She slides me a glance.

I’m totally nonchalant. Totally cool. Not at all resisting the urge to jog over to the dunk tank.

I don’t need to catch a glimpse of Jefferson without his shirt on.

Dripping wet.

---