Page 52 of This is a Kissing Book

“Yup. I’ve noticed a few times in the office. At the rooftop party. When we were at your house. Today. You look at me a certain way.”

She blinks a few times as if caught and deciding whether to double down and grow a Pinocchio nose or come clean.

Instead, she splashes me, chilling us both, which is probably what we need. HR and all.

The barbecue is laid-back and welcoming—the kind of gathering where people talk to each other instead of networking. Oly works in marketing and has strong opinions about everything from the best deep-dish pizza in the city to whether aliens exist. Nate was recently laid off, but tells water cooler stories that have me laughing more than relating, since they all think I’m also a corporate guy.

Jules is different here. Still quirky and prone to saying unexpected things, but there’s an ease to her that I don’t see at the office. She’s not trying to be professional or appropriate. She’s just herself.

Hilariously and adorably herself.

We end up sitting by the pool as the sun sets, our feet dangling in the water. She changed into a soft white sundress with little embroidered yellow and red flowers that make her skin look warm and buttery. She adds a sparkly red, white, and blue headband with springs topped with glittery stars.

“This is nice,” she says quietly, bonking me with the bobbly stars.

I chuckle. “Yeah, it is.”

And it’s true. When was the last time I felt so free? So me?

“Can I ask you something?” Jules steadies the stars with her hand.

“Sure.”

“Earlier, when I said we were even—did that bother you?”

I consider the question. “Why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know. You suddenly had a look on your face like …” She shrugs. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

Like I felt rejected? Or maybe I don’t want us to be even. I don’t want this to be a transaction where favors are exchanged and debts are settled. I don’t want the life of a businessman—to turn into my father.

“I had fun today,” I say instead.

“Really?” She lights up as if ready to drag me back onto the pickleball court.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Her laughter is bright and unabashed. “At work, you’re so serious. All buttoned up. I wasn’t sure you knew how to spell fun, no less have it.”

Until today, fun consisted of boating and wakeboarding on Lake Michigan with the guys. Jet Ski races and cliff jumping in Hawaii. Paintball and Go-kart bumper car battles. My mother would scold me if she knew about my fun, but risky behavior. But yeah, it’s a blast.

Sitting here with Jules, eating burgers and watching kids run around with sparklers is not where I expected to be. It’s wholesomely pleasant and delightful. Not my typical fun, but I like it more than anything else I could be doing, whether with the guys or on a yacht, so I stay—talk to Jules’s friends, eat a piece of the slightly askew Grand Old Flag blueberry, strawberry, and whipped cream cake she made, and just be with her.

Turns out that fun is spelled J-U-L-E-S.

As the cotton candy sky flattens into gray, then black, she shivers and rubs her upper arms. I give her my sweatshirt. She tries to decline.

“I’m prepared to wrestle you into it so you’re not cold.”

She lets out a huffy breath, lifts her arms to the sky for the sleeves, and I drop it over her head like I’m dressing her. My mouth goes dry.

Jules bunches up the neckline and inhales.

Hoping it doesn’t smell bad, I must be staring in alarm.

She sighs and then notices I’m watching. “Don’t say anything about sugar eyes.”

I chuckle, diverting my thoughts to the fact that the hoodie looks comically large on her. I’m thankful I had the presence of mind not to bring an Ottawa Outlaws-branded one. Having something real like this, whatever it is and wherever it goes, is too good, too pure to ruin with the added dimension of me being a public figure, a professional athlete, on top of being a billionaire’s son.