Page 120 of This is a Kissing Book

I have a cooler backpack with lunch supplies, and when we emerge from the loop hike by the lake, I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Jules points to an old rope hanging from a massive oak tree suspended over the water. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Sure is.” I nod, wondering how I stumbled upon such a perfect woman.

“This place just keeps getting better and better.” She grins. “It’s perfect whimsy material.”

I think I’m starting to understand the whimsy—a whimsical wander taken wherever your feet and conversation go. “You want to swing into the lake?”

“We want to swing into the lake,” she corrects, already jogging toward the rope and tearing off her clothing to reveal her bathing suit, which is most definitely not a full-coverage burlap sack “swimming costume.”

I test the rope’s strength, telling her about how pale my mother would turn every time I’d swing on it.

“I bet you were a wild thing as a child,” she says.

I chuckle. “Yeah. You too, though.” I can imagine her riding her bicycle until dark, climbing trees, and generally causing her mother the same kind of worry I did mine.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I was a super cautious kid.” With that, she launches herself over the water with a whoop of pure joy, her laughter echoing across the lake before she splashes down. When she surfaces, hair plastered to her head and grinning like a child, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“Your turn!” she calls.

I grab the rope, pausing when I hear the telltale buzz near my ear. A bee hovers by the oak branch, fat and lazy in the summer heat. My hand instinctively goes to the backpack where I stashed an EpiPen, but the bee drifts away toward the wildflowers along the edge of the woods.

“Are you coming or what?” Jules hollers.

Seems as if I survived another close call. This could’ve ended up with a trip to the ER and a very different kind of afternoon. Perhaps my luck is turning. Maybe Jules is my good luck charm.

“Yeah,” I call back, grinning and trying to remember the last time I did something just for fun. Hockey is fun, but it’s also work, pressure, and expectations. This is something else. Jules is, too, and I like it, like her. A lot.

The water is shockingly cold, but Jules’s laughter warms me from the inside out as she swims over. We tread in place for a moment. Her gray eyes shift like storm clouds, giving way to a sunny day. The way she’s looking at me right now makes me feel it shining warmly on me. For me. Us.

Instead of thinking about what’s next, I don’t want to let go of this. Right now.

Our lips meet in a kiss that I’m certain heats up the lake a few degrees. I never want today to end.

After our picnic lunch, we spend the afternoon taking turns on the rope, floating on our backs, having splash fights that leave us both breathless with laughter.

Later, we return to the blanket we’d spread out on the small, private beach and eat watermelon.

Jules lies on her back, arms resting on her belly, looking up at the clouds. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

“For what?”

“For bringing me here. For …” She turns her head to look at me. “For making me feel safe.”

Her sincerity makes me want to give her that and more. I drop a kiss on her smooth shoulder, then lean on my side, propped up on my elbow. “Thank you for showing me what whimsy looks like.”

A laugh ripples through her as she draws me to standing. Lifting onto her toes, she presses a kiss on my lips.

It’s gentle at first, testing, but then something shifts and we collide—not crashing exactly, but meeting with an urgency that catches us both off guard. The lines we’d drawn further blur and fade until there’s nothing between us but want and warmth.

Her fingers run up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the late-summer sun. When she reaches my shoulder, she pulls me close and we sink together as the kiss deepens.

Since the moment we met, I was keenly aware of her presence—impossible not to be—but I was afraid to acknowledge the effect she had on me. Tried to pin it down. Trip it up. There’s no denying it now. It’s an overwhelming pull that I can’t deny or ignore anymore.

My hands find her waist and I pull her in, eliminating even the whisper of space between us. Her breath tickles against my cheek as she tilts her head, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

Pulses pound.