Page 80 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Like I’m his. And he’s mine.

Like the world isn’t watching.

Setting me back on my feet, he steals another kiss, then gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Simple, easy, loving. And more than enough to launch another round of butterflies, making my cheeks heat up. I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was still that eleven-year-old girl, blushing and tittering at the Rhythm and Brews Festival because the cute older boy said hi to me.

“So, now what?”

I shrug. My heart might be weightless, but my brain is soup. “No idea. A nap? New adventures can start tomorrow.”

“I meant as far as this evening.” He chuckles. Glancing at his watch, he purses his lips, the gears in his mind turning over something. “I have a surprise for you later, but we have a few hours. So, you hungry? Anything in particular you’re feeling like?”

Panic hits me. A surprise? Milo has a surprise?

I pull back from him, coolness rushing between us despite the hot summer temperatures. Confusion takes over his expression, and he reaches for me, hand landing on my hip. Add that to the list of things that feels like it belongs there—Milo’s hand on my hip. Still, it does little to ease the worry in me that I’m not as prepared for the rest of the day as I need to be.

“A surprise?” I choke. “Don’t you need to get back to Pour Decisions? What about Pints and Purls?”

“Hux is covering for me tonight.”

I raise one eyebrow in question. Milo must read my mind, because I don’t even have to say it out loud and he’s laughing.

“And yes, that might be against my better judgment, but he and Ben can handle it. Being here with you is more important.”

I melt. Seriously, how does he have the perfect answer locked and loaded like that?

“But what about an outfit? Am I dressed okay?” I look down at my jean capris, T-shirt, and sneakers. I opted for comfort over style today. The NAPLEX is a six-hour exam after all. Not exactly something one needs to bust out the fashion accessories for. “I thought we were headed home. I don’t have anything to change into.”

“Surprises are not your thing, noted,” Milo says, still laughing. Squeezing my hip, he kisses my forehead, reassuring me. My concern dissolves, trusting that he has a plan. “We’re not meeting the Queen. We’re going to an Atlanta Rising game.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He nods. Slipping his hand into mine, we start walking down the sidewalk. He points to a sushi place, silently asking again if I’m hungry. I nod, realizing I never actually answered that question. “I know the owner. Sorta. The Sutherlands, who own the team, plus a bunch of other stuff in Atlanta, are old family friends.”

I nod. That does ring a bell. The Sutherlands, like the Hayeses, are one of the big old southern money families here in Georgia. It makes sense that they would run in the same circles, even if Milo isn’t the type that fits that mold.

“I forget you’re loaded,” I joke, nudging him with my shoulder.

“I am not loaded,” he defends, laughing off my comment.

I stop, giving him a look, reminding him that I know otherwise. Milo is a Hayes. The Hayes family is royalty in Hickory Hills. After all, Augustus and Llewellyn Hayes were the reason our town is even on the map—if it weren’t for them and their rifles back in the mid-1800s, Hickory Hills probably would have faded into oblivion like many other small, rural towns. Milo’s dad prefers to downplay the family history of supporting the confederate army during the civil war—understandably—but that was still the catalyst for the massive Fortune 500 company that Hayes Industries is today. A company that is held and controlled solely by the Hayes family.

Even ignoring the inheritance portion, Southern Brothers Brewing is a profitable and successful business all on its own. I don’t remember all the numbers Brandt spouted off the last time he was bragging about it, but I do know they were impressive. Like, really impressive. As in, the business carries no debt kind of impressive. That the new machines they put in were all bought and paid for out of their reserves, zero financing required. I might not be a business major, but even I know that means something.

“Maybe loaded isn’t the right word, but…”

Milo shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed by it. “I’m comfortable. Sure, I come from a family of money, but it doesn’t make me any better than anyone. Still had to work for everything I have. Auggie made sure of that.”

I weave my fingers through his and squeeze. “I know. I was there, watching you build Southern Brothers, remember? But, you do get to say things like ‘I know the owner of the Atlanta Rising…’”

“Touché.”

Nudging him with my shoulder, I press a kiss to his cheek, letting him know that I appreciate him. And all that he’s done for me.

Heading to the counter, we place our order, each of us opting for a couple of different rolls that we can share. Milo takes the number placard they give us and heads to a small table in the back, giving us some privacy, even though the small restaurant is mostly empty at this hour.

“Is Mell excited that you’re gonna have more free time now for your hot-girl summer?” Milo asks as a server appears, unveiling the small bowl of spicy edamame. Steam billows from the green veggies, stealing my attention for a split second, but it’s not enough to fully derail us.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you. Jon called this weekend and he’s coming home early.”