Page 25 of The Summer of Us

She approached the table, another plate in hand. A thick sandwich sat on the simple china, and she held a glass of lemonade in her other hand. She slid them both beside my computer and sat across from me.

“Do you plan on sitting at this table all day?” she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I do have a no-loitering policy.”

I pursed my lips, studying her. She had always been a pretty girl, her unique coloring making her stand out. But the girl was gone—replaced by a captivating, beautiful woman. Her strawberry-blond hair had darkened to a soft auburn, the glints of red catching the sunlight as she moved her head. Her once wide, innocent brown eyes were intelligent and warm, but they held a depth of sadness that I hated to see. Most people wouldn’t notice because they weren’t looking hard enough.

But I was looking.

Sunny was still tiny, but her frame was muscular, her arms defined, her shoulders held straight, and her curves more pronounced. She was incredibly sexy. Her hair was swept up, exposing her delicate neck, the soft-looking skin inviting. I recalled kissing that neck, tasting her at the juncture where her neck sloped into her shoulders.

I hoped to taste her there again.

My glance fell to her hands that rested on the table. Small, with thin fingers. Her nails were short but neat, manicured, and buffed. She was never able to grow them, even as a teenager, and she was always jealous of the girls with long nails, filed to a point and painted bright colors. I was glad to see although she could afford manicures now, she kept them natural. It suited her.

“Linc?”

I lifted my gaze. She stared back at me, her smile growing. “Do you want to take a picture?” she teased.

Without blinking, I lifted my phone and snapped a picture of her. My fast reaction caught her off guard, and the picture captured her startled but amused expression.

“Happy now?”

“Yes.”

She pushed the plate my way. “If you’re going to sit there all afternoon and glower at my customers over the top of your computer, eat some lunch.”

“I’m not glowering, I’m observing. I like watching you in your environment.”

She rolled her eyes. “You glower.”

“Maybe when your male customers stay too long.”

“Whatever, Linc. You’ve had a lot of admiring glances your way as well.”

“I only see you.”

She smiled. “You’re crazy.”

I held up my phone. “Dammit, Sunny, you’re gorgeous,” I muttered. “How can you not see that?”

She blushed, ignoring my words. “Eat your lunch.”

I looked at the sandwich. “No biscuit?”

“Not everything has a biscuit, Linc.”

“It should.”

“We make the bread too.”

I sighed dramatically and gave in. “Fine. I’ll suffer.”

“You’ve eaten six biscuits today. Surely, that is enough.”

“In your opinion. I have ten years to make up for.”

“You haven’t had a biscuit in ten years?”

“No. They reminded me of you. It was too painful. At the place I was at, the food was bland. Nutritious, I was informed, but bland. When I got back, I gorged myself on everything I missed while I was away, but I couldn’t touch biscuits.”