Page 135 of Problematic Summer Romance

“You could come with me.”

I jerk back, that’s how little I expected this. But then my lips twitch, and…“What? Like I’m your girlfriend, or something?”

He rolls his eyes. One more kiss, this time on my forehead, and then he straightens to his full height. “Part of me would love nothing more than to have you there as I deal with this mess. Then there’s theotherpart, the part that would really like for you to consider mixing your genetic material to mine at some point in the future, which is terrified of showing you the depravity and greed that runs in my family.”

“Banking on my ignorance, huh?”

“It’s all I have.” He sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. “I know it might not be possible. You have to take Tiny—and Bitty, I guess—home. I know you promised Rue and Eli to house-sit. But I did want to extend the invitation.”

I cock my head. Study this tired, hurried, too-handsome man. “How come?”

“I’ve been shutting you out for a long time. And I want to make it clear that it’s not going to happen again.”

There is a give inside me. Space hollowing, yielding, readjusting, to make room for a new sense of quiet joy. “Sit,” I say, tapping at the bed, snaking an arm around his waist when he does. “When are you leaving?”

“I’m not sure yet. Dakota is booking us flights out of Palermo.”

“Who’s Dakota?”

“My executive assistant.”

“Ah, right. The dude who goes through your emails.”

“Actually, that would be Seb. I have more than one EA.”

“More than one, as in…two?”

Silence.

“Three?”

A sigh.

“Oh, Conor.”

“I covered for Minami and Sul when they went on parental leave, and the carry allocation—”

“Yes, yes. I don’t think my brother has that many. Then again, my brother occasionallystopsworking.” I lean my forehead against his temple. Kiss his cheek. “If you ever buy me flowers, should I assume that they’re from Seb or Dakota?”

“I would never buy you flowers.”

I frown. “Never?”

“I would buy you a potted plant.”

“Why?”

“It’s a beloved pastime of mine, watching you drag them to the brink of death and then squirm to Rue and beg for resuscitation—”

He knows me so well, it’s only natural for me to want to kiss him. And once I’m kissing him, I cannot help continuing, pulling him down to the bed, trying to close the distance between us.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. But he smiles, and his mouth is on mine again, fresh and deliciously flavorless, a respite after all that sugar, and that’s how little it takes. His warm hands caressing my skin, folding me easily out of my overalls, my underwear. My fingers scrambling to the opening of his jeans, just as effortlessly. “I…” He finishes kissing me, unhurried, smooth. “We don’t have to do anything. Ever. If you—”

“No, no, but should we—wait?” I ask in between his tongue licking over my lips. I inch back. “I just was wondering, if maybe…”

He stares at me, curious, patient. His gaze doesn’t betray the eagerness that jumps in the quick, heavy rhythms of his pulse under my palm. I laugh.

“What?” he asks, but he’s smiling, too, like all he cares about is being here, with me. Understanding is secondary.

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