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Quinn smiles, and I wonder if he’s been meaning to lead us here this whole time.
“Good memory. I was wondering if you forgot. This, right here, is the exact spot where we first met.” He shakes his head. “What a fucking day. I thought you’d fall down and die from shame if the bees didn’t get you first.”
“Almost ten years ago.” I pause to snicker. “Wow.”
His hold on my hand tightens.
My breath seizes.
That feral green gaze sharpens as our eyes meet, and my heart beats its way up my throat.
“Nearly a decade, Peach. Long damn time.” His eyes fall to my lips and linger.
Oh.
Oh, no.
My lips, my entire body, quiver as I remember kissing him at the rodeo, tasting the heat of his growl. Kissing him was more than I’d ever dreamed then.
Sweet Jesus, I’m still dreaming about it.
Constantly.
It’s worse with us both dancing around the subject, never bringing it up. Apparently, part of our emotional maturity level is still stuck in the last decade, too.
“I wondered about you so many times over the years,” he tells me, and I wonder if I’m wrong about being stuck.
A hot thrill rips through me.
“I thought about you, too. I wish I’d tried to write while you were overseas, but I knew you didn’t want me worried sick. Still, I wondered where you were, what you were doing, who you’d turned into…”
He smiles, those green eyes flickering in the soft light.
“Thinking about you. That’s all I ever did, Peach. Whatever comes and goes, whoever I work for, however the seasons change…that’s the one damn thing that never strays. And I know it’s out of line, but I’m telling you right now—it ain’t gonna change when you head back to Chicago. I’ll be thinking about you then, too.”
Holy hell.
My heart nearly explodes. I can barely breathe. I start opening my mouth, searching for words, but he casts me this sad, hangdog look like he’s realized he just said too much.
“Quinn—”
“Let’s uh—” He clears his throat and glances quickly at the pond. “Skip rocks. We used to do that shit all the time. How long has it been since you tried?”
I smile, loving and hating how he tries to save face. I have half a mind to grab his face and kiss him…but for now, I’ll play along.
“Probably not since the last summer we were here,” I say.
“Far too long.” He lays a hand on the small of my back and guides me to the pond. “High time we have another go.”
We search the ground, find the flattest rocks, and then take turns pitching them over the top of the water. A fun little competition breaks out over the number of times each rock skips before sinking into the murky depths.
It’s more fun than I’ve had in ages, and not because it’s something so easy, so innocent.
It’s because I’m doing it with Quinn—and the fact that my rocks win nearly every round doesn’t hurt one bit.
“Who the hell went and made you Miss Rock and Roll? You’re too good, lady,” he says. “I give up!”
I toss a rock in the air and catch it, flashing a victory grin.
“How?” He wipes the sweat off his brow, grinning back. “Just how’d you go and kick my ass that hard when you said you haven’t done this for years?”
“I was taught by the best.” I wink at him.
Growling, he swipes the rock out of the air when I toss it up again. “And you’ve been practicing the last ten years, liar.”
I grab his hand and try prying it open to get my rock back. “No, I haven’t. Swear to God. Give me my rock.”
He holds his hand just out of my reach, using his height to his advantage.
“Hmm, I don’t know. What will you give me for it? I hear these things can be pretty valuable.”
A kiss, you lunk, I want to say.
But that’s the one thing that would ruin the evening, the week, the rest our lives.
Scrambling for the ground, I pick up another rock.
“Here, bozo. I’ll give you this one for it. Rock for rock. Sound fair?”
He tosses the rock in the air and catches it again, swinging his hand down with a grin that almost melts my panties right off.
“That rock for this one, huh?”
“Yes! What are you expecting? A Ferrari?”
He holds it up to his face, stroking his chin like he’s pondering the meaning of life with a stone that’s magically turned to solid gold. It’s so ridiculous and exaggerated I burst out laughing.
“Sorry. This is a far better rock. Can’t part with it for that crappy basic bitch skipper you picked up. It ain’t even an eggplant.” Then he spins while I’m busy laughing my butt off and side pitches it across the water.
I yell out the count as it skips.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! Seven.” I throw my rock on the ground. “Seven, you dick. The most I had was five! So you’ve been letting me win this whole time?”
