Page 68 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“I can’t believe saying sweet things isn’t already on your list. Shouldn’t that be a given?”

She shrugs and pops another bite of her brownie into her mouth. “I never thought to put it on there.”

“Maybe you should let me take a look at that checklist to make sure you’re not shortchanging yourself.”

“You are not settin’ your discerning eyes on my list again. That list came straight from my heart, and it’s private. How’d we get to talking about this anyway?”

“You were telling me about baton twirling and a girl named Taylor.”

“That’s right. She was beautiful, but it was her confidence that I wanted to emulate. All the boys noticed her, and she didn’t pay them any mind. Like she didn’t even notice them looking at her.” She gazes at a couple dancing in the grass and eats the last bite of her brownie, swaying to the music again. “She seemed mysterious and grown-up. When I was young, I found that intriguing. But now I can’t imagine being that oblivious to people looking at me. You do the same thing. I’ve told you that.”

“Yes, I remember.” She called me out on it that first day in the café. “My guess is that Taylor probably wasn’t oblivious to the attention.”

“Then why act like it? That’s hardly living.” She looks at me, and she’s got chocolate on the edge of her lower lip. “That’s like going to the beach and not putting your toes in the water.”

I cup her cheek, and her eyes take on a doe-like quality, enticingly warm and intoxicatingly sweet. I brush my thumb over her cheek, wanting to kiss the chocolate off, but I know I won’t want to stop there, and I’m not ready for this part of our night to end.

“It’s called self-preservation. Fourteen is an awkward age.” I wipe the chocolate from her lip with my thumb and suck it off as I sit back. Her eyes flame, and I fight the urge to haul her into a kiss.

She inhales a ragged breath, her cheeks flushing. “Uh-huh.”

She’s killing me. “She might have been uncomfortable with the attention, or not into boys, or maybe she’d been hurt by a boy and she chose to keep her distance.”

“You think so?” She gulps down the rest of the iced tea. “It would be awful if she’d been hurt that badly at that age. What if one of those boys was supposed to be her best guy friend? Her Ryan Fletcher? She might never have this.”

Her dismay is so genuine, I wish I could say, Look, there she is. She found her best guy friend. Now you can be happy again. “I don’t know, sunshine.”

She seems to think about that for a beat. “I hate the idea of her being hurt and lettin’ that hurt guide her life. I’d like to go on believing she was just that confident.”

I wonder if she’s still talking about Taylor, or if she’s talking about me. “Then you go on believing it, as long as you never stop sticking your toes in the ocean of life and letting your light shine on everything around you.”

“There you go, doling out sweetness again.” She puts her hand on my leg and lowers her voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m all about grabbing life by the horns and wrangling it to my liking.”

“I’ve noticed, sunshine.” I can’t resist sliding my hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer. “It’s one of the many things”—I find irresistible about you—“that makes you special.” I lean in and kiss her, our tongues dancing to our own passionate beat. Her fingers curl into my leg as I take the kiss deeper. I feel Molly moving toward the food, and Destiny startles, breaking the kiss. Molly has knocked over the container of fruit, spilling juice on Destiny’s leg, and now my beast is looking at us like, There’s nothing to see here. Go back to what you were doing.

We share a laugh and clean up the mess.

The band starts playing “Fast Car,” and Destiny sings along with them, bobbing her head to the beat. It starts drizzling, and people begin collecting their things.

Destiny holds out her palm and looks up at the sky. “We should go.”

She turns to me with a look in her eyes that’s full of too many emotions to name, but I know she’s thinking of her mother. I haven’t danced since I was in college, but I push to my feet and hold out my hand. “Come on, sunshine.”

“I need to grab the blanket.” She turns to pick it up.

“We’re not leaving. We’re dancing.”

“Dancing?” Her eyes tear up so fast, it takes me by surprise. “I . . . I didn’t know you could dance.”

I have a feeling she doesn’t want to talk about dancing in the rain with her mother, so I pretend those tears aren’t making my chest constrict and go for levity. “Try not to look too surprised.” I draw her into my arms, keeping hold of Molly’s leash. “According to Bridgette’s son, Louie, my moves rival Barney the dinosaur.”

She smiles, blinking her eyes dry. “I’ll be the envy of every woman here.”

“What makes you think you’re not already?” I spin her around, and since the band doesn’t stop with the drizzling rain, we continue dancing. Destiny sings off-key, and I have two left feet, but I’m learning that this woman who wants a guy who moves like Jagger has two left feet, too.

A group of teens laughs at us as they walk by.

I wink at Destiny, and we bring out our worst dance moves, laughing just as hard as they do. When a slow song comes on, I gather her in my arms again, feeling more alive than I have in years.