“How about you, young lady?” Randall offered. “Care to join the John family for the best tri-tips in the county? We’re also serving grilled corn on the cob and a fat baked potato slathered in butter and sour cream.”
“It sounds so good and I appreciate the invitation, but I already have a date tonight.”
“Ah. Another time, then?”
“I would love that.”
With a quick salute, Jameson’s dad turned for his pickup. He waved at them as he drove away.
“That went pretty well,” said Vanessa with a careful smile. She knelt to greet Slim. “Hello, handsome. How’re you doing?” Slim whimpered with happiness as she scratched his ears. “I like your dad,” she said as she looked up and their eyes met.
He gave her a slow smile. “Surprised?”
“A little. I mean, he didn’t seem too crazy about me last Friday.”
“He can be hotheaded sometimes, but he owns up when he blows it—and was it wishful thinking on my part, or did you call tonight a date?”
She rose. “You’re cooking me dinner. Kind of feels like a date to me.”
“So, we’ve moved on from hookup, then? We’re past one-night stand?”
She gave a little snort of laughter. “How about summer romance?”
“That’ll do.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She felt so good in his arms. “For now.” Yeah, he was testing her a little. He wanted to see if she’d jump to denials and insist again that they had an agreement, that she was leaving at the end of August no matter what.
She didn’t. Instead, she said, “I brought wine and brookies.”
“What’s a brookie?”
“Half brownie, half cookie.”
“Did you bake them yourself?”
“Nope. Callie did. Trust me, you’re glad about that. I burn everything I bake.”
He ran a finger down the side of her throat, just to feel the texture of her soft skin. Teasingly, he asked, “But isn’t baking just chemistry—and isn’t science your best subject?”
She gave him an eye roll. “Hypothetically, yes. In practice, I’m thinking there’s a baking gene and I don’t have it. That’s my excuse and let’s leave it at that.”
He kissed her. She tasted so good, and he let his hands stray a little, into the dip of her lower back and then out over the soft, gorgeous twin curves of her bottom. “Where are you hiding these brookies you brought?”
“Well, it’s like this. I kind of freaked when I saw your dad and I left them and the wine in the car.”
“You were scared he would figure out that we’re a thing, you and me?”
“Yeah—and then I went and made that remark about having a date. What was I thinking? He’ll say something to someone and it’ll get back to my mom and grandmother.”
“No worries there, and I mean that. My dad knows how to mind his own business.”
“Well, good, then. I’m glad.” She glanced away and then back.
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
“I feel guilty, that’s all. I made you promise not to tell anyone about you and me...”
“What? You think I said something to my dad? I didn’t.”
“No. Did you hear me? I saidIfeel guilty. Ergo, the problem is not with you.”
