Page 98 of Make Mine Sweet
Mom shushes her. “You’ll give Ian the wrong impression of Sunshine.”
“Oh, he knows about our seedy underbelly. They’ve dealt with bandits and thieves over at their house.”
Mom’s attention whips over to us, but I hold up a hand. “We had raccoons, one time.”
Probably more often than that, but I’ve followed Ian’s request to avoid taking out the trash at night. What I don’t know won’t hurt me. Or startle me into hurting myself.
She relaxes, but her attention stays fixed our way. “How do you like Sunshine, Ian?”
“I haven’t explored enough of it. But it’s growing on me. Tiny bears and all.”
Hopefully, it’s too dark for Wren to see my goofy grin.
A streak of brilliant white shoots into the sky, to the delight of the crowd around us. Must be ten.
August squeals and flops onto his back next to Wren. Lifting his head, he points a finger at the rest of us. “You have to lie down.”
“He’s a commanding little pirate captain,” Ian mutters as he lowers onto his back.
I stretch out, too. “He’s not wrong. It’s a pretty good way to watch the show.”
They launch the fireworks from a meadow a few blocks away. This close, they really do burst right overhead, a series of spinners, blooms, and fountains lighting up the night. It’s peaceful, even with the occasional loud bangs and the “oohs and aahs” from the crowd.
August’s little sounds are my favorites, though. He’s a fan of every single firework, and lets us know how pretty they are with a round of applause after every shower of sparks.
I realize Ian is facing me instead of the sky. I turn my head toward him. Even in the darkness, his slanted smile shines through.
“You’re missing it,” I whisper.
“I’m not missing a thing, angel.”
Fireworks illuminate his face, revealing his gaze steady on me. Between us, he finds my hand and threads our fingers together. Looking into his eyes is like walking through the door of a house and realizing I’m home.
Despite my intentions to keep my heart anchored in a safe harbor, I’m sailing through uncharted waters. I’m falling for Ian, and if I don’t reroute soon, I’ll coast right off the map.
Here be dragons.
But maybe also a pirate with a good heart who’ll sail along with me.
August crawls over me to snuggle into the small space between me and Ian. We let go of each other, scooting over a touch to make room.
“Isn’t it good, Ian?” he says, staring up into the night.
Ian’s gaze never leaves mine. “The best.”
If there’s something better than seeing Ian carrying my sleepy son into the house, I don’t know what it is. August’s arms are wrapped around Ian’s neck, and the man’s got him hefted onto his hips like he’s precious cargo. My heart can’t handle these levels of adorableness this late in the day.
Inside, Ian takes August to his bed.
“Goodnight, Ian,” he says with a big yawn.
“Goodnight, buddy.”
Ian slips out while I help August change into his pajamas. I run my fingertips over the adhesive around his sensor and pump to make sure we’re good for the night. They’re both on his belly tonight, and his muscles flex from the ticklish sensation, but otherwise, he barely stirs. I kiss his forehead, whisper goodnight, and leave him to dream about fireworks.
In the kitchen, Ian’s leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. I tuck August’s insulin kit away in the supply cart for the next time we go out.
He nods at the cart. “You’ve got yourself a mini clinic here.”
