Page 36 of Hearts at Seaside
“I probably should have taken you to dinner, or the drive-in.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. This is perfect. I’m not a wine and dine girl. I’m more of a…”
“Rock girl?” He tucked her hair behind her ear.
She flushed at the intimate gesture. “Yes, and a marshmallow girl.”
Pete noticed an elderly couple struggling to carry their chairs. “I’m sorry, babe. But I’ll be right back. I just want to help them.” He nodded in the couple’s direction.
Jenna pressed her palm to his abs. “Go. I’m fine.”
Pete helped the couple carry their chairs down to the water and turned back, watching Jenna load a stick with marshmallows as she talked to a group of people around the bonfire. Pete’s heart swelled, knowing that as badly as he’d wanted to be closer to her this summer, he finally could—even if it would be hindered by his father. He wondered again how he could have overlooked their connection for so long.
Pete had spent last night thinking of all the things he’d learned about Jenna over the years. Jenna was spontaneous, and despite her shyness around him before their kiss, she was one of the funniest women he knew. She wasn’t high maintenance, craving glamour and glitz. Jenna wore colorful plastic rings and bracelets like they were diamonds, and she pulled them off like no one else ever could. She loved to laugh, and she seemed to like any type of music that she could dance to. And, of course, she loved the beach. He’d noticed that she also enjoyed being around people. As much as he wanted to keep Jenna all to himself tonight, there would be plenty of time for that. It was more important that she feel comfortable on their first date, and by the looks of her, smiling and chatting away, her hips swaying side to side to the beat of the music, it appeared she was very comfortable.
“Petey!” Jenna wiggled her insanely sexy hips from side to side in a little dance that he was sure was meant to look more cute than sexy by the way she was beckoning him over with her hand, but it captured the attention of every man who had come to the beach jam tonight.
Petey?He hadn’t been called that since he was a kid. Hearing the nickname brought back happy memories of his mother, which brought his mind to his father’s recent issues. Pete drew in a deep breath and forced those thoughts aside. This was his night with Jenna, and hopefully it would remain that way.
Pete had walked away for only a minute, maybe two, and Jenna had already corralled an entire group of couples around her.
“Pete, this is Chuck and Kerri, Wendy, Bob, Butch, and Lisa. This is Pete.” She wrapped a hand around his forearm.
Pete loved her possessive move. He and the others exchanged hellos, and as the other couples began settling their marshmallows over the fire, Jenna thrust an empty stick toward him.
“Roast marshmallows with me?”
The band played another calypso song, and Jenna swayed to the music again. Pete forced himself to focus on her question rather than the urge to pull her hot little body against him.
“I don’t eat them, but I’ll cook them for you.” There weren’t many sweets Pete enjoyed besides chocolate.And Jenna.
Jenna grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. “Are you sick? Should we go to the doctor?”
He laughed with a shrug. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”
She released his shirt. “Marshmallows aren’t really sweets. They’re…”
He arched a brow.
“Marshmallows.” She wiggled her butt again. When he reached for the stick with the marshmallows on it, she pulled it out of reach. “You can’t cook mine.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m really picky, and you’ll take me home and never ask me out again.” She looked up through her thick lashes with serious eyes.
“Aw, come on. You can’t be that picky.” He reached for the stick again, and she let him take it.
“Okay, but I warned you.”
He knelt by the fire’s edge and reached for her hand, bringing her down beside him. “How do you like it?”
She looked so darn cute, elbows on knees as she crouched on her heels, eyeing the marshmallows. “Golden brown. Not golden. Not brown. Golden brown.”
Pete thought of her rock collection, her spotless cottage, and the way her closet was organized—by color, style, and length of the outfits.
Uh-oh.
Golden brown.
