Page 4 of Every Little Kiss
“If you’re renting the old Keller cabin, then that makes you my neighbor,” she said. “I live right down the beach from you in the yellow-and-white one-story with the white dock off the back.”
If he was surprised by the news, he didn’t show it. In fact, he just released her hand and casually gestured toward the door. “Well, neighbor, how about you show me the home of the best bottomless drip in the Sierras?”
Was he asking her out on a date? God, just the word felt foreign and irresponsible and reckless—and so incredibly intoxicating she wanted to say yes. Almost said yes, but then, as if the universe was reminding her that one had to learn how to swim before diving into the deep end of the lake, her phone pinged.
“Excuse me.” She fished her cell from her back pocket and read the screen. It was a text from her mother-in-law.
Pax is holding his privates. I asked if he has to use the little boys’ room. His answer was silence ...
That Carolyn believed his silence was Liv’s fault was hidden between the three dots.
Paxton suffered from select mutism, a form of social anxiety that affected a child’s ability to communicate when expectations become overwhelming. When Paxton felt secure and comfortable, he could outtalk an auctioneer. But the only person who saw that side of him was Liv. With a sigh that she felt all the way in her toes, Liv accepted that her time was up. Life was calling, and she needed to respond. “It’s my son. I have to go.”
“So do I,” he said in that same easygoing tone that made her legs wobble.
But his smile dimmed at her statement, and his eyes flashed something close to regret—or maybe it was relief. The poor guy had nearly asked the town’s only widowed single mom to coffee.
Either way, Liv admitted that even though it was summer and the sun was about to embark on a new cycle, the frost had only thawed enough for her to dip her toes in the lake.
