“I’ve loved you since?—”
Her lips crush against mine and she steals the breath from my lungs. She kisses me with so much urgency I have no choice but to roll her over so she’s on top of me—give in to every ounce of her iron strong will. Not that I’m complaining.
When her mouth finally leaves mine, I can barely think let alone speak.
“Should we go out to the barn?” I manage.
“And miss my chance to claim you with Miss Bayside watching? Hell no.”
She giggles then looks down at me with a crooked smile and a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Tell Little Jeff we are gonna break rule twelve.”
I don’t need to. He already knows.
Chapter Forty-Two
Devon
Lesson 43: Comfort should be handled carefully—or you’ll get too comfortable.
Sammy has painted every one of my fingernails at least fifteen times. And I use the word fingernail loosely to include the tip of my finger, my cuticles, and in some instances, all finger skin above the knuckle.
“She never was one to stay inside the lines,” Jenny says over my shoulder.
I chuckle and Sammy looks up at me with Jeff’s eyes. She’s got me wrapped around her sloppily painted little finger.
“Do you like them?” she asks, eyebrows lifted to her widow’s peak. My hair is in fifteen ponytails, spraying from all regions of my skull like a demented dinosaur. And my eyeshadow came straight off of Debbie Gibson’s first album cover. Jenny warned me about a Samantha make-over—even showed me pictures ofJeff with lipstick on his eyelids and pink streaks in his hair. But this just made me want to step up to the gauntlet.
“What’s not to like? You are the Van Gogh of nails!” I twinkle my fingers in her face and she giggles. Her giggle is like running through watermelon-flavored bubbles. But it’s cut short by a random thought. She wrinkles her nose and tilts her head.
“Isn’t that the guy with the ear?” she asks.
I press my lips together and nod. “He did have an ear.”
“No, no.” She rolls her eyes. Her eye rolls rival Syd’s in depth and tone. “He cut one off!” she says.
I look at her seriously. Touch my blue finger to her nose.
“Sometimes genius comes at a cost.”
Sammy blinks twice.
“Are you a genius?” she asks.
Finally, I’ve been recognized. Jenny laughs at my expression from where she’s piling like five hundred peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
“You’ll have to ask Uncle J.J. that question,” I tell her, and she lights up at the prospect of just speaking to her uncle. I look up to find Jenny eyeing me from where she swipes at a generous glob of jelly with her butter knife. She smiles.
“You two have the exact same delighted expression at the mention of my brother,” she says pointing the knife between us.
I look to Sammy and realize we are both smiling like we’ve been gifted baby guinea pigs. I lift my fist out to Sammy for a fist bump. Ain’t no shame in loving Jeff.
“Mom, what time are Jeff and Grams coming home?” Sammy asks, checking all of the caps to the nail polish then placing them in her Caboodles. Man, I miss my Caboodles. The square footage of storage is absolutely astounding. I should keep one on my desk at school.
Jenny lowers her eyes back to the bread and shakes her head.
“Soon, sweetie.”
