“If someone stuck something up my butt, I’d be screaming.”
“Shh … just get back here.” I giggle.
“Hey, Gabe!” Morgan calls as she and Nate pull into their driveway on their bikes. “You moving?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “It’s not a moving van. It’s an exam van. They’re doing something to Mr. Hans’s butt.”
Oh. My. God …
Nate unhooks his helmet and grins at me as I roll my eyes. “Please tell me he misheard what’s actually happening,” he says, sauntering toward me as Morgan and Gabe circle the van like it’s a spaceship and they can’t wait to see the aliens.
“I wish.” I give myself one really quick look at Nate in his biking shorts, black fitted biking shirt, fancy biking shoes, and messy hair that’s starting to grow back. Then I force my eyes to stay on his face, squinting against the sun. “My nephew now knows that PSA is not just a Public Service Announcement, but also a prostate specific antigen test, DRE stands for digital rectal exam, and when you’re old, someone will drive a van to your house to give your testicles an exam as well. Oh!” I hold up my finger. “Mustn’t forget to mention that Mr. H also compared it to a dog grooming truck, which segued into full disclosure that he could, in fact, use a tidy up down there. So how was your bike ride?”
He laughs, sitting next to me on the narrow steps which puts us close together as we watch the kids wait for the aliens to emerge. “It was a good ride, not nearly as informative as living with an old man who freely shares medical knowledge, but still good.”
I shake my head, but it doesn’t stop my cheesy grin. It’s funny and not at the same time … but mostly funny.
Nate nudges my shoulder with his. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Just been busy. My parents are at the airport, I assume waiting for their rental car. When do your parents arrive? Have you managed to keep it a secret? Surely you have, otherwise I’m certain Morgan would have been screaming it from the rooftop.”
“Oh, she would definitely be in hyper-Morgan mode. They arrive late tonight. I’ll make up a fun dad excuse like late-night ice cream and we’ll get them from the airport. I’m not making them rent a car.”
“Hey!” I pinch his side, and he jumps. “I’m not making my parents get a rental car. My dad is just too controlling to let anyone drive him. I’ve learned to let him do his thing because I’ll never win the argument anyway.”
I turn my head toward him, feeling his gaze on me.
“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, eyeing my lips.
“But you won’t because young eyes could be on us.”
“You might be right.” He grins. “You might be wrong.”
I shrug. “Then do it. Kiss me.”
Nate’s gaze flits over my shoulder toward the driveway then returns to me. “We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll count your freckles.”
“Eighty-two,” I reply. “I counted them this morning. Eight-five yesterday. I’m losing them in spite of all the sun.”
“You didn’t count your freckles.”
I didn’t, but I like the way his eyes dance with amusement at the tiny prospect that I might not be lying. “Don’t pretend you know m—”
He kisses me. Holy shit! He’s kissing me!
It ends as abruptly as it began. I’m afraid to look behind me.
“Please tell me they didn’t see that.”
He smirks. “Tell me you care.”
I open my mouth to tell him how much I care. Why he should care. And … some other great responses. Nothing comes out.
“When’s the last time you had your PSA checked? Testicles examined? Finger up your rectum? I bet while they’re in the neighborhood they could squeeze you in.”
He wets his lips, making another quick glance over my shoulder. “I’m good on the PSA until I’m fifty. You examined my testicles quite thoroughly last week. As for the finger up my ass—”
I cover his mouth. “Stop! Don’t go there.”
He turns his face to break free from my muzzle, vibrating with laughter.
“When are you leaving? When will I be rid of you?” I narrow my eyes at him.
His laughter fades as his smile simmers into something bittersweet. His gaze stays connected to mine for a few seconds before he redirects it over my shoulder again, but I don’t think he’s tracking the kids, planning his next kiss. It’s different.
A different I feel in my chest.
I’m not supposed to feel Nathaniel Hunt in my chest.
He’s not supposed to take root in my mind.
His touch isn’t allowed to linger on my skin.
Yet, here he is … making a mark that I fear will be difficult, if not impossible, to erase.
“I’ll be gone before you know it. Nothing lasts.”
“Memories last.”
Nate returns his attention to me, a hint of tension in his brow as he gives me several tiny nods. “True. Memories last.”