Page 69 of Never Really Over

I smile, feeling a sense of pride hit me. Usually the only way I know if a campaign is a hit is from the numbers. It’s more than nice to hear from actual viewers and customers. “Glad it worked, then.”

“Oh, it definitely worked,” Amy says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Good thing he got the snip or we’d be having baby number seven.”

We cackle and when I turn my head, I see Colt watching us with an unreadable expression on his face. I bite my lip and he tips his head, lifting his beer in my direction.

Progress.

Good progress.

We talk and laugh for probably an hour. The men set up a large sheet hanging from the side of the garage with a projector playing an animated movie for the kids to enjoy. Amy’s oldest daughter, Fiona, has Poppy on her lap and the kids seem content.

There’s a puppy next to Poppy and four more taking naps on the blankets with them. I was told that Tori’s brother had brought a bunch of puppies but has since left. Basically, none of the men were immune to their kids’ begging to keep one. Five shelter puppies rescued in one night seems like a pretty amazing thing to me.

My third seltzer goes down even better than the first two and the fourth, it just slid right down. But the fifth and sixth? I don’t think I even tasted them. So much for not getting drunk. Moving home might be turning me into a lush, but right now I don’t care because I’m feeling giddy and a little buzzed and quite honestly, horny as fuck. Every time I make eye contact with Colt, something in the air crackles between us. I wonder if he feels it, too. I feel someone watching me and know instinctively that it’s him.

My breathing is heavy and my skin feels itchy but also hot. And when I look at Colt, I’m pretty sure I drool a little bit. When I first came here and saw him again, I knew he’d definitely aged well. I wish I’d been around to see him grow up into who he is today. He’s everything sexy about a man. Muscular arms and shoulders, jawline that’s not too chiseled that it looks sharp, but is still pronounced and strong. I can’t stop myself from letting my gaze lower to his crotch. It’s not obnoxiously bulging but it’s… wow. I really hope I didn’t say that out loud because I felt my mouth actually form the word.

His eyes don’t leave me, taking in my chest, my legs, and finally back up to my face. Neither of us are apologetic about our perusal of each other’s bodies. I bite my lower lip again and cross my legs, feeling an ache between them that I haven’t felt in ages. Just looking at the man is getting me all hot and bothered. It could be the alcohol, but more likely it’s just him. There’s something about this man that has always turned me on. Especially his hands. I can practically feel them on my skin right now. They’re working hands, and I can imagine the callouses rough against my…

“Should we do it?” I hear Jenna ask, giggling. She’s drunk, too. I sure hope the guys are planning to be the designated drivers here because all the women are well on their way to hangovers.

“Do what?” I ask, completely missing a big portion of the conversation.

“Stop eye fucking for a second, will you?” Tori says. She’s laughing, too.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I apologize, but don’t correct her. I whip my head to Tori, who I’m realizing is freaking hilarious. “Was he actually eye fucking me?”

All the ladies say, “Oh, yeah.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks but it’s not from embarrassment. No, definitely not because I’mjustbuzzed — okay, drunk — enough that embarrassment flew out the window. It’s fromheat.The kind that makes me want things I have no business wanting.

“Okay, what are we deciding whether or not we’re doing?” I ask. I’m not sure if my sentence made sense or not, but no one seems to notice.

“We have an extra bucket of water balloons and the guys look a little overheated, don’t you think?”

Water balloon fight with Colt? Yes, please.

“Bridget. You’re the distraction. We don’t want you running and slipping on wet grass. Go talk to the guys and we’ll arm ourselves,” Missy says, taking charge.

Bridget happily stands up, moving to the guys. She slides her hand over Dalton’s shoulder and he looks up at her, completely love-sick. It’s adorable.

I have no idea what she’s saying but all the guys seem to have their attention focused on her for the time being. Missy stands up and calmly walks over to the bucket, sits in the grass in front of it — like that’s not obvious — then pushes with her back until it’s slid over to us. It wasn’t far, but it got us giggling so hard that we almost forgot our mission.

I can’t believe I thought this town was boring or that I could live without these women in my life. I feel more alive in this moment than I did living in Chicago, and it’s not because of the seltzers. It’s the company.

We all dive into the bucket, piling water balloons in the bottom of our shirts while the men are somehow none-the-wiser.

Our strategy is we don’t have one. Just bombard them with as many water balloons as we can before they retaliate. Corey’s the first one to notice us. He falls out of his chair trying to get out of the line of fire but not before Amy launches one right at his back. It explodes on contact.

Then it’s game on. Bridget shuffles out of the way, holding up her phone to record the chaos. The kids notice and all but Fiona, Poppy, and two of the others who are younger but I can’t remember their names, who are still sitting on the blanket, rush over to join in on the fun. They recognize quickly that it’s us against the dads and have no problems throwing as many balloons as possible at them.

It doesn’t take long, though, for the tables to turn.

And soon we’re all getting hit.

Laughing hysterically, falling down from the slick grass, mud, and blades of grass sticking to us.

“Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?” Colt shouts, tossing a water balloon up in the air and catching it all while staring me down. I’m unarmed. Defenseless. My hands held up in surrender.

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