Page 95 of Small Town, Big Storm

“I’ll never?—”

Before I can finish telling her that bubblegum will always be the best, she shoves the spoon in my mouth and suddenly my tongue is full of rocky road.

“Good, right?”she says as I chew and swallow.

“It’s good, baby.”

A triumphant look on her face.

One that only lasts a second because I add, “But not better than bubblegum.”

Her nose wrinkles, but her eyes are dancing as she finishes the last bite of rocky road and deposits the container and spoon back into the cooler, then flops onto the blanket, her gaze on the trees overhead.

Fuck, she’s beautiful—sunshine kissing her skin, her cheeks slightly flushed from the heat, her hair spread out behind her head.

“You’re staring,” she murmurs.

“You’re beautiful.”

That pink on her cheeks spreads.“Storm,” she whispers, shaking her head.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t—” She sighs, shakes her head.“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay,” I agree readily.“How about we discuss those dark circles under your eyes?”

She snorts.

“What?”

A roll of her eyes.“You’re so beautiful,” she says in a decent approximation of my voice.“Only you look like shit with those dark circles under your eyes.”

“Pop,” I begin.

She jabs a finger at her face.“This is me, Storm.These circles are part of me now.Hashtag, Mom life, or whatever.”

I bite back a grin.“You weren’t this sassy when you were a teenager.”

“You flaunted your six-pack around the beach,” she mutters.“It was kind of hard to get mad under that kind of mental strain.”

“Mental strain?”I ask, failing in my attempt to not smile.

She glares at me, but there’s an edge of amusement in her eyes that has me outright laughing when she says, “Yup.Mental strain.Because I could barely resist the urge to jump you.”

“Would it help if I told you that I still have the six-pack?”I lift the edge of my tee.

The amusement that had been spreading through her gaze halts, warms.

No.Heats.

“Storm,” she whispers.

“More mental strain?”I ask.

She nibbles at her bottom lip, that heat in her eyes growing, until the emerald depths practically glow with need.

A slow nod.“Yes.”A beat.“Severemental strain.”