Page 40 of The Rookie
While I get started on the fire, Summer insists on going up to the house to ask my mother for marshmallows. Matt drags over a couple of chairs.
When she returns with a big bag of fluffy marshmallows and a smile, I feel like I’ve taken a hit to the chest. She’s just so damn pretty, and my thoughts turn indecent almost immediately. But then she settles in beside me and hands me a flask of whiskey my mother filled for her.
I accept it gratefully and take a big swig, hoping it will extinguish whatever the hell this weird feeling is inside my chest. Too bad it doesn’t work.
Graham pours mugs of beer from a growler he’s just bottled. “It’s a day or two too early,” he warns everyone, but we all assure him it’s good, and it is. Nutty and vibrant with hints of grapefruit.
Summer rips into the bag of marshmallows and places two on a skewer, then offers me the bag. I dig out a marshmallow and eat it whole.
“Hey, that’s cheating. You have to roast them first,” she says, scolding me playfully.
Grinning, I help myself to another, and Summer’s laughter is the best sound. Light and slightly husky.
Those indecent thoughts are back—with a vengeance. This time, rather than another shot of whiskey, I shove another marshmallow into my mouth and chew. I expect to be hit with a sugary rush, but I’m so distracted by her, I swear I don’t taste a single thing.
I try to focus on the conversation happening around me. The guys talk about hunting, and Graham chatters on about the beer-making process to anyone who will listen. Summer occasionally asks insightful questions. She has a knack for keeping the conversation going.
I can’t help but notice the soft look in her eyes. She’s happy here; I can see it. We all can. But does it mean anything? I’m awful at reading signals, apparently.
After she’s roasted and eaten several marshmallows, she licks her sticky thumb and then rises to her feet, announcing that it’s getting late.
“I’m going to head in. Good night, guys.” Then she meets my eyes, and her voice softens. “Thank you for the fire. It was lovely.”
Suddenly speechless, I simply nod.
We all watch as Summer wanders away in the direction of the cabins. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice how well her backside fills out a pair of jeans.
Graham smacks the back of my head.
“What the hell was that for?” I rub at the tender spot.
“Walk the lady home, you idiot.”
My brothers are all thinking the same thing, and I’m sure they’re questioning my manners. Apparently, my interest in Summer beyond a professional capacity is the worst-kept secret ever. I toss the bag of marshmallows at Matt to a chorus of snickers, and head off after Summer.
It’s not that the thought didn’t occur to me. Of course it did. It’s dark, and she’s alone. But I’m feeling a whole lot of things I have no right to. I’m worried that if I go after her, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Nevertheless, my brother’s are right. I should walk her home. I jog to catch up with her.
I surprise her near the chicken coop, and she lets out a startled gasp, her hand flying up to her heart.
“Sorry,” I say in a soothing voice, placing my hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“W-what are you doing?” Her pulse flutters wildly as she pauses beside the chicken coop, with its cheery robin’s-egg blue paint that Mom is so proud of.
“It’s dark. I should walk you back.”
“Oh.”
Summer’s tone is filled with surprise, but when her gaze meets mine, I can tell she’s not opposed to this idea. I catch a glimpse of appreciation in her eyes.
I feel like even more of a fool that I didn’t immediately leave the fire and insist on joining her. But I’m here now. And Summer is looking so beautiful under the glow of the moonlight that I forget what I’m supposed to be doing for a second.
As if she has some sort of gravitational pull, I find it impossible to stop myself from kissing her. My palm touches her cheek to draw her close, and Summer comes willingly, moving toward me until we’re chest to chest.
I slide my hand into her hair as her hot mouth meets mine enthusiastically. Her kisses are sweet, and hurried, and I drink them down.
Waves of lust pulse through me. The taste of sugar and female is a potent combination. And Summer isn’t just any woman. She’s kindhearted and funny, and she’s put up with my family all week without complaint. I can’t help my body’s response to hers.
When her lips part, I deepen our kiss, my tongue meeting hers in eager strokes. Her hands curl into fists as she grips my shirt, hauling me closer.
