Second First Kiss

Chapter 26

Sage

Sage could have swooned at the summery perfection. Cherry Hill looked like a carpet of deep green velvet at night under the full moon. The treetops were heavy with leaves and the beginnings of cherries. Soon harvest would come, and then it would be the rodeo—with the hospital auxiliary’s barbecue dinner at the park—and that night’s slideshow history of Sage and Jasher’s dates.

And then it would be over. By that time, he’d be starting to put his stepdad’s medical practice on the market in earnest, probably, and looking to relocate. Not only that, by then, Sage would have come to her senses and pushed him away to a safe distance from her curse.

Cherry Hill, plus one more date, and then she’d have to say goodbye to Jasher Hotchkiss and his searing-hot kisses.

Oh, she’d miss those.

But it had been a great summer fling.

As long as all he wanted was to keep things toasty and fun like this, maybe it could work. Maybe he’d be safe from her toxicity.

“What did you want to talk to me about tonight?” Sage took Jasher’s hand as he helped her out of his old truck. He interlaced his fingers between hers.

Hand holding. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten how intimate it felt. Oh, mercy! Jasher was stroking the center of her palm with his thumb, sending pulses of sensation through every inch of her.

Gifted was an understatement when it came to describing Jasher’s ability to turn Sage to a shivering bundle of desire.

“Later,” Jasher promised. “After we’re done with dinner. When we’re alone.”

Alone. When they were alone on Cherry Hill, all kinds of things might occur.

Sage had better keep her mind—and not lose it.

The scent of charcoal rose through the trees, and a soft orange glow of embers shone in the distance in the flat part of the meadow.

“I hear Rhoda liked your selfie so much she agreed not to come on this date, either.”

“It was a good selfie.” Jasher squeezed her hand. “I kept a copy. Did you ever see it?”

“Not yet.” Sage paused on the hillside while Jasher pulled out his phone. “Oh, my lands!” She about fell off the mountainside. “Was my swimsuit really that obscene?”

About ten acres of chestage glared out at her, and a line of cleavage about a mile long, with barely a thread of her swimsuit showing. Holy pornography.

“Jasher. You have to delete that.”

“Not for love or money.”

“Jasher! Please tell me you did not send that photo to Rhoda.”

“She liked it so much she said I could be in charge of tonight’s photos.”

“Jasher!”

“Come on, Sage. I cropped it to our faces.”

She whacked him hard on the arm with her free hand. “You beast.”

“You bring it out in me. And no, I’m not cropping the one I’m keeping for myself.”

“Total beast.” Her face burned. If she ever got hold of his phone, that picture was going straight to Deleted-ville. “I’m so ashamed.”

“I’m not.” He snickered. “It’s how I always picture you.”

Mercy! “You’re going to pay for this.” She squeezed his hand hard and planted her feet in the turf, pulling him to a halt—and snaking her arms around his neck. “Yes, you’ll pay dearly.” She pressed her mouth to his, her body melting against his torso, her fingers threading through his hair.