"Benny, wait!" Sadie shouts, springing up to chase after them into the rows of flowers.
I run straight while they take a loop, hoping to head them off. It’s like a comedy show—Benny following the groundhog under each mound of zinnias while Sadie is leaping over them. They make zigzag after zigzag, weaving so much that Sadie looks like she’s playing some weird game of hopscotch. I stop, considering which direction would give me the best chance to catch them—but the next thing I know, Sadie’s boots are over her head, and a scream rips through the air.
Rushing toward the scene, I’m relieved to find her laughing. Sadie is sprawled out, flat on her back in the mud between two rows of pink and orange flowers. Benny is at her side, nudging her leg, while the groundhog looks on from fifty yards away with judgment on his face.
"Hey, are you okay?" She laughs harder, clutching her stomach with one hand and her cheek with the other. "How’s the mud?"
"It’s great, like being at a high-end spa." She grins, sitting up. "Can you believe that just happened?"
"What? The high-speed chase, or the wild animal wearing a shirt that saysShadow Daddy?" I glance toward the chunky rodent—he’s still watching us with a smug expression. Sadie continues to laugh hysterically while tears streak down her face,and Benny gives up curling into the mud beside her. "You need me to help you up?"
"Yeah…that…would…be…great," she wheezes.
Extending my hand, I link our fingers and pull. But my feet slide in the slippery goop, and the next thing I know I’m lying right on top of her with the ground squelching around us.
Water splashes the grass in my backyard as I rinse suds off of a very soapy—but finally mud-free—Benny.
"Two words, Max." Sadie holds up her fingers while I continue spraying my pup. "Shadow Daddy."
We’ve been laughing about the groundhog in a t-shirt for the last hour, and I don’t expect it to stop soon. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. When Zuri and Bridget returned, they explained that Zuri’s youngest sister had recently adopted him after the family spent a year being plagued by the rodent. Apparently, he is friendly but also quite a shit-stirrer.
"I think he’s rinsed. Do you want me to take you home? Or… we could clean up here." After the last few hours, I hope she opts to stay. I’d like to spend more time with her, but I don’t want her to feel pressured one way or another.
Sadie saunters toward me, a sheepish grin gracing her lips. "I’d like to stay." She runs a finger through the mud on my cheek, trailing it down my bare chest. Removing my shirt to wash Benny seemed practical—now it feels like an unintentional thirst trap that’s thankfully working for me.
"Let’s go." I put my hand on her lower back, guiding her to the door.
We kick off our shoes, and Sadie waves her arm for me to lead the way. The tension between us is thick—neither of us saying a word. Each step feels weighted, as if we are about to check a box that can’t be unchecked, ring a bell that can’t be unrung.
Pushing into my bedroom, I grab a change of clothes for each of us from my cherry wood dresser.
"I think these will fit if you tie the string extra tight." My voice shakes as nerves race down my spine. I’m not even sure why I’m nervous. This isn’t my first rodeo.
Sadie steps into the attached bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn on the spray, and I stand on the threshold, my hands gripping the top of the door frame.
"Are you go—"
"We don’t have—"
She grins, walking back toward me and wrapping her arms around my waist.
"Max… honesty time." Sadie kisses my chest softly. "What’s wrong?"
Looking into her eyes, I realize the answer is simple—nothing. Everything is right, exactly as it should be. And missing out on this because I’m afraid the fallout of leaving is going to hurt would be like missing out on touching the stars.
Bending down, I kiss her softly. "Nothing, I’m just really thankful for this summer with you."
"Feeling is mutual." She runs her hand over my abs, and a shiver runs through her. "Now get in here, shadow daddy. The water’s warm."
twenty-five
Sadie
The Flower Girl
Max O’Reilly is the single most attractive man on the planet. His bulging biceps are accentuated by the way he’s gripping the door frame above his head and dotted with sporadic tattoos. He has stacks of muscles on his stomach and thighs so thick they practically beg to be set free from pants. The second he removed his shirt outside, I nearly had a heart attack from the view.
He seems hotter, different from at the beach, but maybe that’s because we’re alone. Or because I’ve felt what he’s keeping hidden below his belt. Call it objectification, but I feel like I might pass away on the spot if I don’t get to see all of him, experience what it’s like to be with him fully. And he’s sweet. I can tell he’s nervous, holding back so that I can lead. Except I don’t want to—I want to be ravished, I want to be consumed byhim. I want to forget momentarily about everything else going on.
