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“No, but you’ve got your acting smile—the one you flash when you’re required to smile but don’t feel like it; you also have the sneaky smile—that’s when you’re smiling even though you’re not supposed to.”
Gripping her waist with both hands, I pull her flat against me.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“I’m about to kiss you.”
“No, no, you can’t do that. Everyone’s watching, and your kisses aren’t exactly PG-rated.”
She tries to wiggle out of my grip, but I just sling my arms tighter around her, nuzzling her neck with the tip of my nose. She shudders lightly.
“This is the first I’ve heard you complain about my kisses.”
“It’s not a complaint, but your kisses are always at least a seven out of ten on the heat scale, you know?”
I stop nuzzling her neck, straightening up. One glance at her expression, and it’s clear she’s not pulling my leg.
“No, I don’t. Believe it or not, I haven’t actually measured the heat level of my kissing.”
She smiles sheepishly, her cheeks turning pink. Summer is her own brand of adorable, and she’s getting under my skin faster than anyone ever has. Deeper too. I missed her while I was gone, looking forward to our nightly calls more than anything.
“Sooo... I’m thinking I should be your shield,” she says.
“What?”
“You know, be a buffer between you and whoever wants to interrogate you. I know your superhero arsenal includes a cape, but that won’t help you much here.”
“Summer, you don’t need to babysit me. Go do whatever you do when you’re here. I’ll kiss the hell out of you if you don’t go, and I’ll make it heat level eleven.” Whatever that is.
“Fine. Fine. I’m going.” Licking her lips, she adds, “But, can you make good on that threat later? When we’re alone?”
She knows exactly the effect her words have on me, the adrenaline spiking my blood. But I can give as good as she can.
“I’ll make good on it and then some. That’s a promise.”
Her eyes widen, a light flush spreading on her cheeks. Mission accomplished.
Once Summer heads inside the gazebo, the kids gather around me so fast, I bet they were watching like hawks for me to be alone.
“Mr. Superhero, can you teach us how to fly now?”
“His name is not Mr. Superhero—”
“But the police officer called him that in the last movie.”
The group explodes into conversation, contradicting each other, talking at the same time. All I can do is watch them and grin, deciding on the best tactic.
Obviously, teaching them how to “fly” is out of the question. It requires a green screen and CGI.
Early in the superhero movies, I made the mistake of explaining this to kids. The expression on their faces was akin to them finding out Santa Clause doesn’t exist.
“Kids, flying’s out of the question today. I left the magic cape at home. I’ll teach you a few other tricks. But I need another adult to assist me.”
“I’ll go get Dad,” the boy named Will announces. In his absence, I instruct the group to form a semicircle so they can watch what’s going on while they wait their turn.
Will joins us, with Sebastian in tow. We shook hands when Summer introduced me earlier today, but I didn’t have a chance to talk to him.
“There’s no getting out of this, huh?” he asks as Will joins the semicircle.
