Page 17 of Summer Affair
She laughed. It didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You never have to apologize. Hell, I would have punched him, then waxed his car with his face.”
This time her eyes lit with genuine humor. “I thought you were about to.”
“I was,” he admitted. “But I knew you could handle yourself. Bang-up job, by the way.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t apologizing for that. I was apologizing for, um …”
Whoa, she was blushing again, but this time there with some sexual interest mixed up in there. “When you kissed me?”
“What? You kissed me.” When she snorted, he said, “I went for the cheek, you’re the one who took it from PG to PDA.”
“We got out wires crossed.” Oh, they’d gotten more than just their wires crossed and the remaining flush on her cheeks said so. “What I’m saying is that it was an accident.”
“Agreed,” he said, but wasn’t sure if he believed it. For something so fleeting, it left a lasting impression.
An alarm sounded and she looked from the fort to her kitchen and back. Her expression was one of resignation. “That’s my ‘If you don’t start now, you’ll be late from now until Friday’ reminder. Seeing as it’s only Monday, I better go check on Sammy. Try to find some way to explain this without hurting him further.” She looked at the fort, to her cell, and back again. “I have two hundred cake pops to frost for a quinceañera, which is tomorrow at six. It’s going to be a long day.” She closed her eyes and whispered, “It’s going to be a long summer.”
Knowing that sitting there within kissing distance was a bad idea, he decided it was best to remove himself from the situation. Family matters were complicated, and complicated didn’t fit into his summer plans. Clay stood to excuse himself when he heard himself offer, “Why don’t you let me check on Sammy and you get started on work.”
“I didn’t say that because I was soliciting help. I was just thinking aloud, and you happened to be within hearing distance.”
“About this soliciting?”
She rolled her eyes. “My mouth and my brain are having a hard time agreeing lately.”
He watched her gaze slowly lower to his mouth. “Seems your eyes are suffering from the same affliction.”
She jerked her gaze up. “I’ll remind Sammy that the tree fort is off-limits.”
“Or, I’ll get Sammy and ask if he wants to throw some ball with me while you get started on your baking.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I happen to think your kid is pretty awesome. Hanging with him will be the highlight of my day.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be honest, I don’t know a lot about kids. I’ve got Kylie, but she’s only come into the family last year, so pocket-sized people aren’t my specialty. But I have been seven and throwing the ball is known to stop sniffles, tears, and all-around disappointment. Trust me.”
She shot him one of those sweet smiles and he was toast. “Thank you.”
With a wink, he headed across the yard to find a rangy, graying man standing at the tree’s base, arms folded. He was dressed in a solid white polo shirt, which hung off him like he was a hanger, vinyl sweatpants with white stripes down the side, and bulky white sneakers. “You Easton?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Eddie, I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I was in the Golden Gloves and fought two tours in ’Nam.”
Clay bit back a smile. The guy was one-sixty soaking wet, came up to Clay’s chest, and looked one strong breeze from falling over. But he was standing his ground for his niece—and something about that made Clay relieved. That she had someone fighting for her. “Thank you for your service, sir.”
“My niece has a thing for dipsticks. So, if she starts giving you cow eyes, it’s a pretty good sign you’re a dipstick. You get what I’m saying, son?”
“I do.”
“Eddie ‘the Hand Crusher’ Acton.” He reached out his hand. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
Clay was surprised at what a firm grip the old man had. “Clay Easton.”
