“I had plenty of time.”
“And?”
“I think you should kiss me and get it out of your system. Then we can go back to my place and check for ticks. Nothing to do with your kiss, of course. Just summer.”
“The thought of ticks could ruin the moment, but that was your point.” He smiled. “And the operative word is could.”
Felicity found herself leaning against the oak, feeling grass, dirt and small rocks under her bare feet, aware of the outline of her body—breasts, hips—under her wet swimsuit. It might not be a sleek bikini but she wasn’t hidden under jeans and a sweatshirt, either. “Okay,” she said. “Go for it. Kiss me.”
“Is that supposed to deter me?”
“Does it?”
“No.” He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and lowered his mouth to hers. “Not even close,” he said, touching his lips to hers. She thought he would back off immediately, but he didn’t. He let it be a real kiss, as if he’d been thinking about it for a while. Then he stood straight and sighed. “That was good. You’re a little out of practice. You should let guys kiss you more often.”
“If I could throw you in the river, I would.”
“Should I expect a sneak attack?”
“It wouldn’t be a sneak attack if you expected it, would it? No. You should expect never to kiss me again.”
“But you liked it?”
“Consider us even for three years ago. A bed, brownies, a kiss. We’re good.” She brushed off something small and brown crawling on his shoulder. “That, my dear Gabe, was a tick. Let’s go.”
“It was a spider but we’ll go.”
“My brother once got a tick on an unfortunate part of his anatomy—”
“Let’s go, Felicity.”
“Are you going back to my place?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Great.” She grinned at him. “I have a hand mirror for de-ticking.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, if I find a tick on my privates, you’ll be the last to know.”
“Not me. I find one, I’m screaming. You don’t have to rescue me, but you’ll know.”
He adjusted her swimsuit strap, pulling it back onto her shoulder. “This was fun,” he said. “It was like being kids again. Thanks for joining me.”
“A trip down memory lane.”
Again that look in his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”
* * *
They came to their senses by the time they returned to her house, Felicity by way of the path, Gabe in his car, giving them a few minutes to cool down. She slipped her shorts and T-shirt on over her swimsuit. He put his shirt back on. That helped with her distractibility. Once inside, they retreated to their rooms to change into dry clothes.
Their teenage souls had crept into the present and dragged them back to the past.
Without any warning, Felicity felt the touch of Gabe’s lips on hers as if he was kissing her now. She bit down on her lower lip, hoping to dispel the feeling. It didn’t work.
She’d wanted more to their kiss.
“To be expected,” she whispered to herself.
Seriously, she thought. She’d put all her resources into her work and her move to Knights Bridge—buying this place, moving in, getting settled. She’d neglected any semblance of a romantic life.
“Sex,” she said under her breath. “You haven’t had sex in...forever.”
Gabe had been her first lover. Her best friend. All that history was bound to bubble up now that he was camped out across the hall. That he was comfortable with himself—comfortable in his own skin—only made her more aware of how much he’d once meant to her.
She picked up her swimsuit and laid it across the edge of the tub to dry. Just as well it was cold and damp. She’d let it snap her out of her haze of arousal or whatever it was. She wanted to slip into boxer shorts and a T-shirt and crawl onto the sofa and read a book she’d picked up on color schemes. She didn’t know if it’d help her in her work, but it couldn’t hurt—and it was perfect for reading with Gabriel Flanagan in the house. Interesting but not taxing, and easily reread if her mind wandered.
And it would. No point reasoning with herself, overthinking, rationalizing or otherwise driving herself nuts. Let it be. Two adults with a past jumping into a river on a hot day could get in over their heads in more ways than one, but they’d caught themselves before they’d ended up in the grass.
“Imagine the ticks,” she said with a laugh, sitting at her desk with her laptop.
“We’re invited to dinner at Mark and Jess’s place,” Gabe said, matter-of-fact, as he walked into the room.
“We?”
“Uh-huh. Mark says Jess is up to it. Check for those ticks and be ready at six.”
Ten
Gabe had only seen photos of Mark and Jess’s house off South Main Street, a few doors down from Maggie and Brandon Sloan’s “gingerbread house,” another of Knights Bridge’s older homes. Gabe would have been at a loss with all the fixing up. He’d worked for Sloan & Sons through high school and college, and even for a while after he’d dropped out, but he’d never been taken with construction. It was a job to Brandon, but Mark lived and breathed this stuff. He gave Gabe the grand tour, including the attic and cellar.
“We’re taking our time,” Mark said as they descended the stairs back to the entry. “We painted and did the floors and a few other updates when we moved in, but the house is in good shape. We can take our time.”
Gabe noticed the bright white walls and polished hardwood floor, peeking out from cheerful throw rugs. “Now that my schedule’s eased up, you can put me to work if you have an unfinished project.”
“Jess wants to plant spring bulbs in flowerpots.”
“Sure you don’t have a wall for me to knock down instead?”
Mark grinned. “Where did this sudden urge to grab a crowbar come
