Page 35 of One Southern Summer

“To be honest, there wasn’t supposed to be a ceremony at all. Then the mayor showed up and brought the local press and things took off from there. Again, I apologize. You weren’t intentionally excluded.”

“It’s fine.” She pointed to the bag he still held. “That’s going to melt if we don’t hurry up.”

He hesitated. “Is it really fine or are you trying to be nice? Because that story in the paper wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.”

Her expression crinkled. “Yeah, that one stung a little. I’m not thrilled about the newspaper article, but I’m not holding you responsible.”

“Thank you for being so gracious.”

She waggled her fingers and motioned for him to hand over the custard. “I can’t believe Marlowe’s is still in business.”

He passed her the bag. “Well, it was touch and go there for a while.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard.”

“With you not here to keep up a steady demand for their bizarre flavors, they almost went under.”

“Oh, stop.”

Laughing, she swatted his arm then bumped him with her hip. He’d been there less than five minutes, and she’d already touched him three times. This apology thing was much easier than he’d anticipated.

She pulled both cartons from the bag.

“I can’t believe they still have pistachio and that you remembered.” She pressed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He clutched the counter’s edge with both hands. Yearning unfurled, like a flag in the hands of a color guard performer at a Friday night football game. A normal person would’ve continued the conversation. Responded with a simple “you’re welcome.”

Not him.

He’d wanted her for far too long to gloss over this milestone event. His brain was obsessed with cataloging every detail of her innocent gesture. The warmth of her body fitting against his for one glorious second before she pulled away. A hint of fragrance laced with a fruity scent—melon, perhaps? He couldn’t be sure. Didn’t really care. The feather soft touch of her lips brushing against his skin knocked out all other sensory input.

He forced himself to step away. “I’ll get us some water, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” She shrugged and popped the lid off the first carton. “Is Marlowe’s really in danger of going out of business?”

Pulling two tumblers from the cupboard, he filled them with ice and water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door. “They’ve struggled from time to time, but I think business is solid now. I don’t know why pistachio is the flavor of the day. Maybe they heard you were back and whipped up a fresh batch just for you.”

She didn’t answer.

Oh, no. He turned around and brought their water to the counter. “What did I say?”

Dropping a generous helping of custard into the red enamel bowl, she frowned. “You didn’t say anything wrong. And by the way, Addison’s fine. She’s not allergic to bee stings. I don’t know why Harper was going on and on like that.”

Relief settled over him. “I felt horrible. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, of everything that happened today, that was the least of my concerns, to be honest. Which kind do you want?” She gestured to the pints of frozen custard, already leaving milky trails across the countertop.

“I brought chocolate peanut butter for me. I know better than to get between you and your pistachio frozen custard.”

She shook her head in mock exasperation then served him a generous portion. “Come on. Addison will hear the sound of a spoon scraping on a bowl even if she’s sound asleep then she’ll be out here in two seconds. And I really, really do not want to see that child until morning. Let’s go outside.”

“Wow. Rough day, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, come on then. Let’s go out on the porch and you can tell me all about it.”

Gratitude brightened her eyes. “Thank you. You’ve always been a great listener, Cole.”

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