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“Sorry, pal.” Jack did his best to plaster on the same polite smile rather than shove his tipsy friend across the field with a single blow. “My turn.” Her hand in his, he spun Siobhan in the opposite direction and then twirling her again and again, had successfully moved her a safe distance from Eddie. Coming to a stop, still holding her hand, he slightly shook his head. “Sorry about that. Eddie sometimes doesn’t know when to stop.”
“Seems more like he doesn’t know when to start either.” Her gaze darted over his shoulder at his friend. “It’s early but I get the feeling he’s been drinking for a while. What’s he trying to drown away?”
Jack nodded his head, intrigued by her insight. “A few months ago his girlfriend, the one he’d bought a ring for, decided that she’d rather date a man with more zeros in his bank account so she broke up with him and made a play for John.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. That about covers it. He’s been drowning his sorrows ever since. If he doesn’t snap out of it on his own, we may find ourselves doing a good old-fashioned intervention.”
A peppy but more mellow tune kicked in and still holding her hand, Jack pulled her in a little closer. “May I have this dance, Miss?”
“Why, I’d be delighted, kind sir.” Siobhan’s effort at a thick southern accent came out more like a muddled Irish brogue and almost made him laugh.
Instead, they swayed to the rhythm as if this wasn’t the first time they’d danced together. A lot about the last few days felt like they’d been friends for years. Had he ever felt that way about a woman? He almost shook his head, answering his own thoughts. Women were never friends, just companions, and they never had him wishing the night together would never end.
“Ooh.” Siobhan eased back, slowing her movements. “They’re carrying a tray of s’mores fixings to the fire.”
Jack didn’t know if he wanted to laugh at her enthusiasm over s’mores, or cry at the loss of contact. Both of which gave him reason to think twice about what was happening with Siobhan Baron. The next thing he knew, he had a stick in his hand with a fat marshmallow on the tip, dangling near the fire.
“I seriously love s’mores.” Sitting beside him, she twirled her stick about. “The secret is to tan the marshmallow evenly around without letting it burn.”
He felt the corners of his mouth tilt up in another smile. “The Siobhan method of s’mores building?”
“I’ll have you know, I am the best s’mores maker in the entire Baron clan.”
“The best?” He lowered his tone.
“Your friend Kyle is so dang inpatient that he always lets it catch fire and burn.” She continued turning the stick like a rotisserie chicken. “And Craig, he’s just as bad, but Mitch, he’s the opposite. When he would do s’mores, the marshmallows are usually lily white when he pulls them off. I wouldn’t be surprised if the middles are still cold.”
“How long do you hold it to the fire?”
“Depends on how you like it.” She glanced at his marshmallow. “I’d say yours is perfect.”
He pulled it away from the fire and stared at the thing. It had been so many years since he’d done this that he’d forgotten not to touch the hot marshmallow with his fingers. It had only taken a second of skin on sugar to realize that using his hands was not the best of ideas.
“Here.” She handed him her stick to hold, then placing a slab of chocolate on a graham cracker, she quickly sandwiched the two crackers around his marshmallow, pulling it off the stick. The white goo oozed out along the rim with some chocolate. She held it to his lips. “Here you go.”
He took a bite of the sticky concoction, he’d forgotten how much he loved s’mores. Even more, he loved watching her assemble her own snack. When a dribble of marshmallow lingered at the corner of her mouth, he almost had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching over and wiping it off. Or worse, kissing away the sweet dollop.
Whatever was he thinking? This is Kyle’s little sister. In his mind, he’d begun doing some fast math. She’d mentioned finishing school, traveling, working on her photography, odd jobs and career plans, and just like that it hit him that Kyle Baron’s little sister was actually at least a year or two older than Connie. And didn’t that put a whole new perspective on his best friend’s little sister?
The way Jack was attacking the s’more, anyone would think he’d never had one before. The oddest part of it was, rather than be annoyed, Siobhan was loving watching the way his eyes danced with delight at every bite.
“Had your fill?” Jack stabbed a stick with another marshmallow.
Swallowing the lick of embarrassment that had crept up at being caught staring at him, she was pretty sure he was referring to the marshmallows and not him. Maybe. “Just getting started.” She smiled back at him before mimicking his motions and shoving two marshmallows onto her stick.
“A challenge?” he teased.
That grin was killing her. How had she never noticed growing up what a great smile the man had? And those eyes? How had her sister not found them irresistible? A couple of times she thought she’d caught him staring at her with a spark of longing that had made her insides go warm and her mouth go dry. Then, just as quickly, the look had slipped away and she told herself she’d been imagining things.
“You missed a dollop.” Jack’s hands reached out and the tip of his finger swiped away a dribble of marshmallow from the corner of her mouth. The momentary warmth of his fingertip had her insides melting faster than the marshmallows. It took everything in her not to close her eyes and lean into his touch. What was going on here? Jack was like another big brother. And more than a few years older than her, she was sure her friends would think she’d lost her mind. Heck, only a few weeks ago she’d teased Mitch that he was turning into an old man and now here she was simmering under the gaze of her older brother’s dearest friend. Maybe she had gone nuts?
A deep frown replaced Jack’s sweet and sexy grin. “Is something wrong? Did you burn yourself?” His hand reached for her hand and she quickly pulled it away.
The last thing she needed right now was for him to touch her. “Just remembering I have an early appointment tomorrow.”
“Oh.” The worry disappeared from his face, but the twinkle hadn’t returned to his eyes. “It’s been a long day, we should call it a night.”
