Page 24 of The Summer Plans

“What?” Summer says, all flustered.

I blink at her in confusion. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even knock yet.”

She sighs. “I got up early so I could get some work done, and apparently Lucas woke up just to pester me this morning and I thought you were him.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I try my best not to stare down at her tits. Her round, full, perfect tits. “Did you need something?” She’s trying to sound sweet, but there’s still a hint of annoyance in her tone.

“Lucas was on the porch when I finished my run, and he asked if he could do a lap with me. Would it be okay if I took him for a jog on the beach?”

Her shoulders relax, and her face softens. “That would be amazing, actually.”

It takes all my restraint not to lean in and kiss her forehead. “Great. Need us to pick up anything while we’re out?”

She shakes her head as her eyes fixate on my mouth. I slowly run my tongue across my bottom lip, delighting in the way she tracks the movement. “We’ll be back. I hope you get some work done.”

As I turn and walk toward the door, I feel her eyes on me. These shorts make my ass look great, and I smile to myself knowing she hasn’t moved from her spot once I reach the patio door. I glance at her over my shoulder, popping my dimple in a smile as I confirm that I’m correct. She shakes her head and disappears into the bedroom.

After I walk Lucas through some stretches, we jog down to the beach. The kid is surprisingly fast, having no issue keeping pace with me. I don’t even have to slow my normal stride by much. We’re about a half mile from the house when Lucas trips over a piece of driftwood and falls face first into the sand.

“Shit, kid, are you okay?” I bend down to help him up when his head pops up, face smudged with wet sand.

“You owe Logan five dollars.” He flops onto his back, holding his foot up in the air.

I release a breath, thankful he’s okay. “Crap. You’re right.”

“That’s ten dollars.”

“What? Crap isn’t a bad word. It’s a non-swear for shit.”

He grins. “Twenty.”

“Okay, okay.” At least it’s for a good cause. I give him my hand, pulling him up. “Can you walk?”

He takes a tentative step and winces. “It hurts a little.” Another step, and his face contorts.

I squat down and pick up his leg. “Can you move it in a circle for me?”

It’s not as fluid as I’d like, but it’s not broken. I look up at him, and he’s wiping a tear from his face. “I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t appear to be broken, but you may have sprained it. Can you walk on it okay?”

Tears well in his eyes as he tries to take a few steps. “I’m fine.” His voice wobbles.

He’s putting on a brave face, but it’s obvious that he’s struggling, so I hold out a hand to stop him. “You’re not. It’s clear you’re in pain.”

“I am not!” His fists are balled at his sides as he huffs out several breaths. “Pain is for babies.”

“Well, that’s not true. Adults feel pain too. Who told you that? I’m a firefighter, and I help adults and kids in pain all the time.”

He purses his lips, trying to control his emotions. “That’s what my dad says.”

I pause for him to continue, waiting for the missing context. “What did he say?”

“Last summer I fell off my bike at his house, and he yelled at me for being a baby. But I’m not a baby.”

“You’re absolutely not a baby. You’re what, ten?”

“Nine,” he huffs.

I knew that, but I was hoping adding a year to his age would make him feel better. “That’s right. Nine is definitely not a baby age. And falling off your bike can be scary. I helped a kid a few months ago on a call when he fell off his bike and broke his wrist. He was thirteen, and you know what he did?”