Page 81 of In Every Chapter

“For one, please. Juliet wants hers plain.”

He slid them across the counter to me. “Anything else?”

Just him. Preferably not in public and somewhere I could kiss him. Kiss him? Whoa, girl. But it didn’t feel wrong. I did want to kiss this handsome, thoughtful man. Wanted to remember what it felt like when his lips moved over mine. His light scruff would probably be delicious.

“Pais?”

I snapped out of the kissing daydreams. “Sorry. Nope!” My voice pitched ridiculously high, and Greyson arched an eyebrow.

“Not till we’re alone later,” I tossed out, then waltzed away. What in all of Middle Earth was that? You did not just say that! But I did, and I was blaming my kissing thoughts and how adorable he looked in an apron.

Hurrying back to the table Liz, Myles, and Juliet had secured, we ate quickly since other families were waiting for tables, and after Greyson joined us, we started our day on the town.

Which began with Marcel swinging open the door of Donovan’s Downto’n at nine o’clock on the dot and blasting his boombox with Toby Keith’s “Made in America” all without saying a word. The whole park sang along; even Myles joined in. Would they revoke his Canadian citizenship for that display of American patriotism?

Once the song ended, Marcel saluted and disappeared back inside. Same as usual. He said plenty without saying much of anything at all.

Ethan and a couple of his friends scampered past us, tossing salutes and hellos as they raced towards the pond on the south side.

There was always something to do. After the float parade and classic-car show, Liz wanted her face painted. Main Street was littered with games of cornhole, bobbing for apples, and a dunk tank—which Shane had ended up getting volunteered for. Food trucks and cafés had tables set up with enough food to feed the town three times over.

Nash surprised all of us by winning the strongman hammer game. The guy was solid, but when he was up against two professional athletes and a retired Marine, it was a win none of us saw coming. Except Stephanie, who smiled smugly.

After dinner came the dancing, and then it was time for the fireworks.

“I’m going to duck into the library real quick to use the restroom, but I’ll meet you on the green,” I promised my friends as they headed to watch the light display.

“I’ll walk you,” Greyson said, and for the first time since this morning, we were alone. It was a nice breathing moment after the busyness of the day. The library was deserted, so I was quick, and in no time, we were heading back to watch the fireworks over the pond.

We weren’t quite quick enough, though, because the fireworks exploded overhead in a volley of silver, blue, and red before we got there. Instantly, Greyson yanked the hand he held and spun me into his chest, hunching over my body as he dove behind a nearby truck.

What the—? I sprawled against his chest—not a bad way to spend the evening—hands gripping his T-shirt. But the out-of-control staccato of his heart raced under my touch. And I knew I wasn’t the one affecting him like this.

“Hey,” I whispered softly, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze in the dimness of a nearby streetlight. “I’m okay. It’s okay. It’s the fireworks.”

Greyson shook himself, coming out of the tense daze. “Sorry . . . I . . .”

I looped my arms around his neck and played with the hair at his nape. “No harm done.” This behaviour was bold for me, but I’d wanted to do this for ages. Like so many things in my life these days. It was a sense of déjà vu—reliving a life I couldn’t remember . . . getting another chance at love. Falling slowly.

Greyson’s hands squeezed my waist, and he shivered. Whether that was from the still-booming pyrotechnics or my playing with his hair, I couldn’t tell. But the feminine part of me definitely wanted to take all the credit.

“Want to blow this popsicle stand?”

He blinked at me. “What?”

Without a plan or a worry, I grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the truck, away from the noise and the crowds. “C’mon. Let’s go stargazing.”

A smile curved over his lips, and a promise sparked in his eyes.

Bonneville Point was a forty-five-minute drive into the hills south of Boise, but it was one of the best stargazing lookouts in Central Idaho’s Dark Sky Reserve.

Sneaking away had my insides giddy with champagne bubbles. But I didn’t want my friends to worry, so I pulled out my phone as Greyson jogged around the truck to his side after closing my door.

ME:

We’re ducking out early. Can someone keep tabs on Rosie?

STEPHANIE: