Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)
I still spent way too long making sure my long blonde beach waves were beach wavy enough, and on making sure my subtle makeup that made my blue eyes pop, my lashes look extra thick and long, and my skin glow was subtle enough. Not to mention how many times I second-guessed what I was wearing—a red, short, floral-printed mini dress with a ruffled low-cut bodice, drawstring ruching, and a fitted waist that I paired with strappy wedge sandals, hoping it was nice enough for a date with Palmer.
When we turned onto Summersweet Lane and he parked his golf cart in front of Chew on This, all my nerves disappeared in an instant. It’s definitely less stressful to just do something simple and easy with him, something we’ve done a million times, and something that feels right and perfect and so us, instead of the pressure of a typical fancy dinner on the mainland where a fan could spot him and interrupt us or God forbid take a picture and start circulating rumors, when I haven’t even gotten his public image back in tip-top shape yet.
Going from nothing but friends for fifteen years to something so much more in the blink of an eye should have made everything awkward and the conversation between us nervous and stilted. I mean, I saw my best friend’s penis! And my-oh-my, what a lovely penis it is. But nothing is awkward, and the conversation never stops. We’re still us… just a handsier version and with more tongue.
Palmer suddenly stops walking right in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Hang Five Arcade, tugging on my hand and jerking me back to him until I bump up against the front of him. He’s always good-looking, but even more so tonight. Wearing a pair of dark-gray fitted golf pants that cling to his juicy ass and a white polo tucked into his pants with a dark-gray belt low around his hips, no hat on his head, so I can see his green eyes with his short brown hair pushed back and to the side, he’s dressed the same as I’ve seen him a million times before. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally seen what’s under the clothes, or maybe it’s because of the way he doesn’t hide how much he wants me when he looks at me. Whatever it is, excited butterflies flap around my stomach when I feel him against me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how easily and casually he just pulls me in like this, like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it.
Taking our joined hands, he wraps them both around my lower back and tugs me closer until our bodies are pressed together from our thighs to our chests. His free hand comes up to gently cup my cheek as he stares into my eyes, making my skin break out in goose bumps even though the humidity is even worse after the storm.
“Yep, I brought you on our first date to this busy, bustling street in the middle of town that we’ve walked down thousands of times before,” Palmer says softly, as the street does indeed bustle around us as he holds my face in his hand, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek, never taking his eyes off mine.
The sun set not too long ago, and all the colorful lights from the business fronts are flashing and shining up and down the street. Island music is playing from the speaker mounted above the tourist information booth across from us. People are laughing, talking, and taking in the sights, easily walking around us as we continue standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The bells and whistles from the arcade and a breeze from the cool air conditioning float out every time someone opens the door a few feet away. The motors of golf carts putter by on the street, someone shouts someone else’s name as they run by us, and my stomach growls when I can smell that intoxicating scent of greasy fried foods like french fries, onion rings, and funnel cakes. But I don’t pay attention to anything except the man holding me in his arms as he continues talking to me.
“I brought you here, to this street we’ve walked down thousands of times before, just so I could do this,” Palmer says, slowly dipping his head and pressing his lips to mine.
It’s soft, and it’s sweet, and he just holds his lips against mine for a few beats before pulling away, dropping his hand from my cheek, unwinding our arms from behind my back, and tugging me to start walking with him down the sidewalk again. Anxious jitters make my skin feel like it’s being poked with pins and needles when he doesn’t say anything else. He just smiles at me over his shoulder as we walk a little farther until he stops again, this time in front of Summersweet Souvenirs, the entire front of the building nothing but windows displaying T-shirts, beach towels, hermit crabs, and wave boards.