Page 43 of Summer Cursed


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I laughed and turned back to my friends. “Thank you again guys. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything. But I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll take you home,” Isaac said.

“Uh…”

“Ah,” he breathed. “I see.”

Stella’s gaze moved between us. “I wouldn’t mind a ride, Isaac,” she said, trying to break the tension.

He looked at her with soft eyes. “Of course, Stell, I wouldn’t leave you here.” He leaned in to hug me again. “Happy birthday, Em. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

A lump formed in my throat as I watched him walk away.

“He’ll get over it,” Liam said, moving to stand behind me.

I turned to face him. “I really hope so.”

“Stella has feelings for him.”

“I noticed that tonight.” I nibbled my lip for a few seconds. “Um, you know Isaac and I aren’t sleeping together, right?”

His eyebrows rose. “You aren’t?”

“No. We did when I was in high school, but we’ve been platonic friends since then.”

“I misread you guys then.”

“Yeah, well, he’s suggested us getting together recently so I’m worried he may walk away because of whatever this is.” I motioned between the two of us.

“I think he’ll be okay, but I understand if you want to take things slow. I already told you, this goes at your pace. I’m only asking you to give me a chance.”

“Why?”

He tilted his head. “Why what?”

“Why are you just so okay with me dictating where our relationship goes? Don’t you have those manly needs we women hear so much about?”

That damn sexy little smirk was back on his lips. “I know how to take care of myself, Red, don’t you worry about that.”

The meaning behind his statement had heat growing in my core. “That’s always helpful.”

He slipped his hands around my waist. “Would you like me to take you home?”

I looked around the beautifully decorated yard. “Not right now. Can we sit and talk for a bit?” I gestured to the gazebo.

“Of course.” He grabbed my sweater from the back of my chair and draped it over my shoulders before we walked through the gardens to the enclosure.

We settled ourselves on the cushioned bench. Neither of us spoke at first. We watched each other for a long while. A noise pulled our attention to the entrance.

“I thought you might like a piece of your cake,” Philip said, handing us each a plate. “And this is for you.” He held out another beautifully wrapped gift.

I took the plate and gift with a smile. I placed the cake next to me on the bench to remove the little card from the package.

Happy birthday, Red.

Yours,

Mr. Fraser

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