Page 43 of Big Dill

“Skipped you, though, huh?”

“He’s a pretty good cook, actually,” Jaxon pipes up.

“But even better at annoying people,” she points out with a sassy grin. I smile. It’s nice to see her happy, shoulders relaxing, finding a purpose here. She’s only here for the summer, but she’s jumped right in, helping at the social, keeping herself busy, either to keep her mind off past mistakes or build a future. I’m hoping it’s the latter.

“Coat on, now.” I guide her toward the archway, and down the hall.

Something about the way she lets me move her body absolutely wrecks me, and my mind betrays me—replaying the way she liked it when I held her down on my therapy bed, and the soft moan that followed.

My cock thickens.

Great. The last thing I need to be sporting through Sunday dinner is a boner.

I grab her coat from the closet as she pulls on her hat. When I turn back to her, my chest tightens.

My God. She’s adorable.

“Just so you know,” I say. “There will be an interrogation.” A beat. “My ma, my aunts, and my sister will want to know everything about your love life. They’re relentless.”

“It’s simple.” She shrugs. “I don’t have one.”

“Good to hear,” Jaxon grunts, grabbing his coat and tugging his hat down over his ears. “And that’s all I want to hear.” He pushes past us. “I’ll go warm the truck.”

The door shuts behind him, the engine rumbling to life outside. Jami zips up her coat and I watch her for a second too long, my heart thudding as I fight the pull between us.

“I’ll talk to them,” I say. “Tell them not to ask too many questions. But they’ll probably start trying to set you up. You’ll hear things like Mr. Peddle’s cousin’s nephew’s son Devon is still single.”

“Uh,” she says. “Come again?”

I laugh, and before I can stop myself, I reach for her zipper and pull it up to her chin. Her sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed when the backs of my fingers brush her cheek.

I glance at the closed door. Listen to the truck idling outside.

She blinks up at me, and whatever resolve I had packs a bag and heads south.

“I’d kiss you again,” I murmur, gripping her chin. “If it wasn’t⁠—”

“Like chewing gum you found under a table,” she supplies.

“Biting into a muffin someone sneezed on.”

She crinkles her nose. “If it wasn’t so… beige.”

Beige.

Ha.

“If it didn’t taste like antiseptic after the dentist.”

“That’s the worst,” she agrees.

I lean in. “Just once. Okay? No more after that.”

“Okay.”

I hold her for an extra second, letting myself savor her. This is either the smartest or stupidest thing I’ve ever done, especially before facing my family, who already know I’ve got it bad for her.

Jami.