Page 31 of Tastes Like Summer

That is, until I turn back to Michael and am faced with a wall of tan, ripped, perfection of a man. I try as hard as I can to keep a poker face, but I’m pretty sure there’s no hiding the surprised and wild expression in my eyes. I mean, I knew the guy was attractive, but this… this isn’t fair. Broad shoulders and a light smattering of hair, the surprising array of tattoos that remained hidden beneath his shirts until this very moment. They’re unexpected, and reach all the way up to his shoulder, stopping below a corded, muscled, and delicious-looking neck… Jelly-kneed, I attempt to say something—anything—but the sudden and unexpected attraction has derailed every other thought in my head besides, Oh my lord, this man… My stomach tightens, my cheeks heat, and I’m mortified to admit that I feel a foreign tightening low in my belly.

Michael Haynes is hot. More than hot. As scalding as the summer sun beating down on us hot.

I swallow once, trying to hide the way I look him over, head to toe. But I guess I’m not subtle enough, because when I look back at his face, a knowing smirk has spread across it.

Shit.

“You ready?” he asks, his eyes roaming over my body as well, bright eyes darker as they trail every inch of me.

No.

I clear my throat and force a smile, the tightening in my belly increasing, the look of hunger in his eyes… incredibly satisfying. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

The sun begins to set over the most perfect Fourth of July I’ve had in a long time, and while I’m filled with mild sadness over the end of this amazing day, I’m not disappointed it happened. I spent the entire afternoon watching my girls look happier and lighter than they’ve been in a long time, playing in the sand with Rachel, making new friends with other children on the beach. Enjoying their summer so much more than I ever thought would’ve been possible when we first got here weeks ago.

But they weren’t the only ones who had fun: I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. A huge part of it has to do with Michael and how attentive he was, of course; how much he made sure I felt comfortable with everyone and that I was having a good time. The truth is, I’m not really a shy person, but I wasn’t at the Fourth of July gathering for myself—I was there for my girls. I would’ve been fine sitting on my own, watching them play, happy to enjoy the salty wind blowing my hair and the sun warming my skin. Michael, however, had no intentions of letting me blend into the background. He made sure I felt comfortable with everyone, made me feel like the girls were safe while I enjoyed the beach for myself. Together, we went into the freezing ocean (which made me miss the warm, clear Caribbean waters more than I expected, but I still enjoyed it), played beach volleyball with the adults (which I was terrible at, but mostly because I kept getting distracted by how much he belonged in a Top Gun montage more than at some beach in Long Island), and walked along the shore as we learned more about each other (I told him a little more about life back in Denver, and he told me about his time as a head chef).

After everything going on at work and with Rodrigo, it felt good to unwind. And if I’m being honest, it didn’t hurt to have someone as gorgeous as Michael to have around.

Thinking back to the times I think I caught him staring at me, I smirk to myself in satisfaction, because I know I wasn’t the only one feeling a physical attraction.

But as I sit on a log by the fire pit Vinny and Matt built while I attempt to warm my feet without burning my toes off, I try to push it out of my head. Even if we were both attracted to each other, it’s not like anything could ever happen. Or that I’d even want it to happen.

Right?

Sighing involuntarily, I watch Danielle and Liza. Each one has a child in their arms, wrapped in a towel as they rest on their mothers’ chest. I can’t help the big smile that spreads across my face when Liza’s three-year old sucks her finger.

“They’re exhausted, aren’t they?” Liza asks, smiling at me.

“And thank god,” Danielle says with a sigh. “The amount of energy this kid has is gonna be the death of me. I could handle it with my twins, but now that I’m older…”

I laugh, remembering when both of my girls were toddlers, how exhausted I would get even in my twenties. “Tiring as they are, you have to admit they can be so much fun.”

“Oh, one hundred percent. Sometimes they act like mini-teenagers, which is super frustrating because it’s either hilarious or incredibly annoying. Or both.” But even as she says it, Danielle looks down tenderly at her girl, Alessandra. “The other day, I was going to sit down to play with her, and she raised her hand and went, ‘Mama, I need my space.’” She scoffs. “Can you believe that? I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.”

“Three-nagers,” I say with a grin.

“You know, I’m so happy you came,” Liza says. “We didn’t get to spend much time together at Barbara’s wedding, so I’m glad we have today to get to know each other a little more.”

“Yeah, especially since we’re all ninety-nine percent sure Michael has a crush on you,” Danielle sing-songs under her breath.

“What?” I ask, a bit shocked. After today, after seeing the way he’d look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t deny that he’d feel attracted. But a crush?

“Danielle! Don’t.” Liza shoots her sister-in-law a glare.

“No way.” I laugh, but it comes out high-pitched and uncomfortable. “Michael doesn’t have a crush on me.” But I frown and pause as I look down at my bare feet. There’s been a sort of harmony between us. Especially lately. I mean, we had fun today. Though it’s all been in the name of our daughters, of course. Right? It’s not a crush. “I think you guys are confused. We’re just friends. Actually, not even that. Our daughters are the ones who are friends. We’re just the parents to really close friends.”

Danielle snickers and looks away. “I’m just saying. I don’t see him looking at other women the way he looks at you. And this BBQ?” She whistles “This is not something he usually does.”

Liza lightly elbows Danielle in the side, trying not to wake either of their daughters. “You have a serious addiction to meddling in other people’s love lives, you know that?” she hisses at her.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when it came down to yours,” Danielle says, lifting a brow.

Liza sighs once before saying, “Point taken. But she’s not your sister-in-law. And you don’t know whether she even likes him or not.”

Danielle turns to me with a kind, but determined expression in her eyes. “Well… Do you?”

“Do I… what?”