Page 41 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“Threenager—I like that.”

“It’s the truth. I know he’s not all that different from any other kids his age, but doing this on my own has been tough. Moving back to Hickory Hills was never in the plan, but it’s been nice to be able to have my parents close again. Goodness knows I’m going to need them.”

I want to ask what happened with Otis’s dad so badly I can taste it. Is he still alive? In the picture somehow? Does she know who he is? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. Sure, Presley walked through that door, but that doesn’t mean I have to hold it open. Prying is not what I’m after. If she wants me to know, she’ll offer it up.

Instead, I go a different route. One that I hope will ease the rest of the tension in her body.

“You’re a good mom,” I whisper, lowering my head so that I can say it right into her ear.

Presley relaxes in my arms, looking up at me. Those slate-colored eyes hypnotize me, the rest of the world falling away. Nothing else exists right now except for her.

Her and these weird things she’s making me feel.

“Funny, that’s not what you said last week. Or the week before.”

Yeah…about that…

“I’m a jackass. But I’m pretty sure you know that.”

Giggling, she sighs, leaning her head against my chest. My heart thumps against my ribs, suddenly making me incredibly self-conscious that she can hear that. That she’ll know the effect she’s having on me.

“I’m not convinced. I think you want me to think that. But a true jackass wouldn’t have stayed. Wouldn’t have introduced my boy to The Rescuers Down Under.”

“I don’t want you to think that,” I admit. The revelation is shocking, to both her and me, but it’s easily the most honest I’ve been in a long time. And now that it’s out, I want to make it perfectly clear. “I don’t want you to think that at all. And I don’t want Otis to think it either.”

“He doesn’t.”

“I figured, since I was his sunshine for the day.”

Presley freezes, eyes going wide as she looks up at me again. “What else did you hear?”

My pulse leaps, mind running wild as I wonder what I missed. Turning it off and not eavesdropping was the right thing to do, but clearly something else was said that is making her nervous.

“That was it. I turned it off after that. It felt like I was invading a private moment.”

“Oh.”

Oh?!

Presley rests her head against my shoulder again, nuzzling into my neck. Her breath tickles my skin and I tighten my grip on her, loving every second of this. I continue to hold her close, swaying to the music, one song fading into another, the similar slow tempo keeping us in the moment.

“Jace?”

“Yeah?”

“You were my sunshine for the day too.”

I step back, my heart stopping just long enough to leap into my throat. Did she just say what I think she said?

Holy shit.

Sweeping a lock of hair out of her face, I respond the only way I can think to—by lowering my head and capturing her lips in mine.

Time stops as our mouths meet, the silky skin of her lips rendering my mind completely blank. I feel like a caveman, my thoughts nothing but a series of grunts and heavy breathing, so overwhelmed from the simple touch.

Presley whimpers, pushing to her toes and wrapping her arms around my neck. Fuck, yes. I deepen the kiss, running my fingers through her hair as I seek out her taste, still unable to form a real thought. There’s too much going on, my system short-circuiting.

I’m kissing Presley Callahan.

My teenage self would be so jealous.

Slowly, I pull back. Not because I want to. Oh no, I want to get lost in this woman’s kisses for the rest of time. But I know I can’t. At least not right now. I need to catch my breath. I need to figure out if she’s feeling this too.

Stepping back, I put an inch of space between us. The small gap feels like it’s the Grand Canyon, my pulse rushing through my veins like it’s driving the Daytona 500.

Presley’s hand flies over her mouth, her eyes meeting mine. I don’t bother to fight back my smile, just as shocked as she is by the power of that kiss. For the first time in my life, I think I actually understand what all those books mean by feeling weak in the knees.

But then she wretches.

Once. Twice. A third time.

Followed by a projectile spew that reminds me of a busted pipe, vomit now dripping down the front of my shirt.

That was not the reaction I was expecting…