Page 53 of The Summer We Played Pretend

I breathe in the sweet smell of her shampoo and feel her breaths drifting across my neck as we lie there, intertwining our fingers. The crappy day I’ve had, the annoyance of my injured hand, and the stupid arguments I got into with my dad are all forgotten. Nothing matters more than being with Chloe.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, shattering the peaceful silence and I groan.

"We should go get dinner." She shifts to sit up but I keep her pinned against me.

“I don’t fancy going anywhere. What do you say we get takeout?” I reach for my phone and unlock it.

“Takeout sounds perfect.”

“Just like you.” I kiss her nose and she rolls her eyes at me but smiles.

“You’re really are ruining your reputation here.”

“I don’t care about my reputation if it means I get to spend time with you.”

“Stop being all sweet and order the food,” Chloe says, snatching my phone from my hand. “I’m starving.”

I grab the phone back. “I didn’t know you get hangry.”

“Yeah you don’t want to mess with me when I’m hangry.” Her eyes glint with mischief and I toss the phone aside and draw her back onto my lap.

“I reckon I can convince you to wait for food a little longer,” I say, skimming my hands up and down her legs.

Chloe leans over, her hair brushing against me. “Maybe, but you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

I draw her close until her lips are hovering above mine. “I think I can do that,” I tell her as I kiss her hard and any thoughts of food quickly vanish.

This girl has me obsessed, and I don’t care if my reputation goes up in flames. All I care about now is Chloe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chloe

The clatter of plates and the murmur of conversation fill the restaurant as I weave between tables, balancing a tray of steaming clam chowders but my mind keeps drifting to Jackson's hands on my body.

"Order up for table seven," the chef’s gruff voice snaps me back to reality.

I hustle to deliver the chowders, plastering on my best waitress smile. "Enjoy your meal, folks."

As I turn back toward the kitchen, my heart skips a beat. Brendan strides purposefully toward me, his jaw set in that familiar way that always spells trouble. We’ve been successfully avoiding each other since our last disagreement.

I slip behind the swinging kitchen door, grabbing a pitcher of water and pretend I can’t see him.

He places himself directly in front of me. "If it isn't my favorite ex-girlfriend," Brendan’s voice cuts through the kitchen noise.

I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Brendan? I’m busy.”

“I just wanted to say congrats.”

I narrow my gaze. "Congrats?”

“About you and Jackson. I hear you’re the hottest couple in town now.”

I try to brush past him, but he blocks my path, his once-favorite cologne now turning my stomach.

“You’ve done a great job of making everyone think you’ve moved on.”

“Ihavemoved on,” I say. “And so have you, remember?”

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