Page 48 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
“When did you get this?” He runs the pad of his thumb over an inch-long scar on the inside of my knee.
“Riding my bike when I was about nine,” I answer, pretending it doesn’t faze me that his hand is on my leg. “I caught it on a jagged rock.”
Landon meets my gaze again. “Sounds more like crashing than riding.”
“Yeah.”
All I can think about is our kiss…kisses…that night in Misty’s barn. The thought completely consumes me. From the way Landon’s eyes darken, I wonder if he’s thinking of the same thing. Just the memory makes me nibble my bottom lip. When his eyes follow the movement, I panic.
“I don’t think we should kiss again,” I blurt out.
Very slowly, looking far too amused, he raises his eyebrows. “All right.”
“Not that you were going to… I mean, I’m not trying to say you were thinking about…”
Shut up already, Lacey. Just. Shut. Up.
“I was,” he says, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Oh.”
Oh.
“But if you think it’s a bad idea, we won’t.” His thumb moves tiny circles over the sensitive spot on my inner knee.
“I don’t date summer boys,” I explain at a whisper. “Not anymore. Not actually.”
Landon nods, but there’s something in his expression that causes my stomach to tighten in the most delightful way. “Sounds reasonable.”
Does it?
“We should probably…” I motion to the first aid kit.
A smirk tugs at his lips, and I’m having trouble reading him. With careful hands, he applies ointment to the pads of several regular-sized bandages and places them in a row over the long scratch, one by one. I watch him in silence, mesmerized.
When he’s finished, he zips up the first-aid kit and offers me a hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it platonic,” he promises.
“Okay.” I nod like that’s a good thing—a wise thing.
I’m an idiot.
Just as I’m walking toward the door, silently scolding myself for the rash words, Landon catches me around the waist and pulls me back. “Except in public, right?”
My pulse jumps, and I try not to melt against him. “Naturally.”
We have appearances to keep up after all…
His eyes practically sparkle. “Then it’s settled. I’ll only kiss you in public.”
And though that statement is all wrong, I nod like it makes perfect sense.
“Okay,” I say, breathless.
Grinning, Landon releases me and heads down the camper stairs, into the sunshine…hopefully toward a public place.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A man walksinto the office wearing pressed khakis, a butter-colored polo shirt, and tan loafers. My first instinct is to ask him if he’s lost.
