Summer nearly died.
“Ben!” she hissed.
“What?” He looked honestly confused again. “That’s what Jeremiah’s mom and her boyfriend do.”
Vander’s mouth twitched when he swung back to her.
Summer stood frozen beside the car because that look in his eyes always made her pulse start acting stupid.
“You don’t have to listen to him,” she muttered.
“Probably not.”
But he stepped closer anyway.
He settled one hand along her jaw before he kissed her soft and slow right there in her driveway with her son watching.
When he pulled back, Summer looked up at him, feeling entirely too shaken for a woman who’d kissed this man plenty of times before.
Ben nodded approvingly from the sidewalk. “I think Grandma and Grandpa are gonna like Vander too.”
Vander laughed under his breath as Ben launched into another story, and Summer watched them together for a second longer, stunned.
Nothing about this felt forced.
Nothing felt temporary.
And that was when the thought finally caught up with her.
He might be the one.
Chapter Nine
Pope stood on Summer’s porch, shifting his weight from boot to boot. Realizing that he had a death grip on a bouquet of flowers concealed behind his back, he concentrated on loosening his fingers before he crushed the stems.
If the old Pope in that bootcamp photo could see himself now, he’d say he lost his damn mind.
Not because he brought flowers, but because he was nervous about it.
A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, and the brim of his Stetson grew damp from the extra heat coming off his face. He’d faced gunfire with steadier nerves than this.
While he ran errands, Gray Malone took a shift watching Summer’s house. He didn’t ask why Pope required coverage, just showed up and eased his mind by making sure she was never left alone.
During the short half hour, he’d made a quick run to the gas station to fill up the tank and made a pitstop at the flower shop he’d never set foot in until today.
The late-morning Wyoming breeze tugged at his jacket as he centered the bouquet behind his back and knocked on the door. A second later, footsteps crossed the floor inside before the door swung open.
Summer blinked at him in confusion. “You know you can walk in now, right? You don’t have to knock.”
A second drop of sweat followed the first down his spine. “I’ll walk in when I’m working.”
Her shapely eyebrows lifted slightly in question.
“Right now”—he pulled the flowers from behind his back—“I’m here for a date.”
For a long heartbeat, she just stared at the yellow and white flowers the florist assured him she would love. Judging by Summer’s reaction, he wasn’t so sure he should have trusted her.
Summer’s bright eyes shifted to him. Then she caught him completely off guard.
