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Hopefully, she’d see that not all families were conventional. And that not everyone had both a mother and a father. Maybe that would be another way they would bond.
“My mom’s a photographer, so she works a lot of events at night and on the weekends,” Hunter said matter-of-factly.
Cammie’s face fell, and I knew she was thinking about how her mom was dead and she never got to see her.
Thankfully, we soon arrived at the snowball stand. I parked, and Brooke pulled up next to me. I got out of the car and opened the back door for the kids to pile out.
Cammie seemed to have forgotten all about the conversation as they rushed to the stand to read the menu.
“Everything okay?” Brooke asked.
“Yeah, Hunter mentioned that you’re not his mother and that she works a lot. I was worried there for a second that Cammie would get upset.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” Brooke’s expression was sympathetic.
“The therapist in Philadelphia said she needed to feel the emotions, not bottle them up. I just hate seeing her upset.”
Brooke licked her lips, drawing my attention to the pink lipstick she always wore. “I get that.”
Brooke’s sympathy was a warm cloak that I used to ward off the bad feelings and memories. I wanted to wrap myself up in her and forget about everything.
“Looks like they’re ordering without us,” Brooke said as she tugged me toward the snowball stand window where the kids stood talking to the attendant.
“Did you want one?” I asked Brooke.
“Can I get a cherry, please?” Brooke asked the woman.
When everyone had their snowballs, I pulled out a few bills and paid.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Brooke said as we moved to the side.
I shrugged. “It’s a snowball.”
Although I acted like it was no big deal, it was. Everything about that day felt like it could be real. That Brooke and I could spend our days together with Cammie, and sometimes Hunter, and it would feel like a family. It was a ridiculous line of thought because all we’d done was kiss, and Brooke had shut it down. She hadn’t left an inch for me to maneuver.
We sat at a nearby picnic table with the kids across from us.
Brooke ate a bite, and a bit of ice remained on her upper lip. I reached over without thinking and brushed it away with my thumb. If the kids hadn’t been present, I probably would have licked it off. The idea had my entire body heating.
Brooke’s gaze met mine, and I wondered if she’d guessed what I’d been thinking.
“Is it good?” My voice was guttural.
“So good,” Brooke said huskily, and I wondered if she was trying to turn me on.
Her tongue darted out to clean her lips, and I struggled to control my baser instincts. If we’d been alone, I would have kissed her. I’d revel in the contrast between the ice and her warm mouth. My brain quickly shot to thoughts of my cock wrapped in her hot pussy.
“Did you want to try it?” Brooke held her snowball out to me.
“Let me grab a spoon.” I hopped up to grab a red spoon from the attendant and dipped it into the ice.
The ice melted in my mouth, the cherry flavor hitting the spot. “That tastes good after being so hot on the field.”
Hot and dusty. I needed a shower. I just wished I could see Brooke, that we were in a place where we could shower together. My mind raced, running away with possibilities that weren’t even feasible. I needed to check myself.
Whatever was between us was friendship, at best. She wanted nothing to do with me or a relationship. If I understood the history behind that decision, I wondered if I might have a chance. I wanted to try because I hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman in forever.
She was caring and kind, yet driven and successful. She was the complete package, plus she helped her sister and was close to her nephew.
