true, and that realization along with his genuine apology would coax her back into his arms...where she should’ve been all along. Or, at least, that was the plan. He flexed his fingers, his arms already reacting to the mental stimulus.
When her stance shifted and her smile landed on him, he hoped it wasn’t accidental. But his heart, which had been riding high in his chest all day, sank a bit as he watched her cheerful expression waver and fade when he moved in her direction.
An itch to be near her propelled him forward nonetheless. Whether she knew it or not, reconciliation was only a few hours away. Probably some of his longest hours since Afghanistan. But being near her would help the time go faster.
“You seem in a better mood today. Not anxious to get rid of the kids, are you?”
Her answering smile encouraged him. “Never entered my mind.” She chose a plate of ants-on-a-log over the apple wedge and cheddar cheese combo snack. “Did you and Neil finish your project?”
“Yep.” His arm brushed against her as he reached for a plate of apples. She made a quick sidestep away. Yesterday, the movement would’ve caused an expletive to rise in his throat. Today, he put his hope in Tara’s theory. If Summer loved him, touching before they’d made up would cause the fire to burn too hot. It certainly fueled an instant heat in him. “We need to keep the kids away from the fire pit area until after dark, though. If they see the monofilament line, it’ll spoil the whole effect.”
While Summer studied the raisins on her celery as if they were the most interesting things on earth, he studied her. She couldn’t touch him...couldn’t be near him...couldn’t even make eye contact with him without being miserable? Hell-pee-roo. Tara was right!
Summer loved him.
Joy rolled out of him in a louder-than-warranted chuckle, which did draw a questioning glance. “Um, I was just thinking about how surprised the kids are going to be when the fireball comes swooshing out of the sky.” And how surprised you’re going to be when your parents arrive with the news.
She chewed her lip for a couple of seconds. “If Neil doesn’t catch the tree on fire in the process.”
The pleasant breeze had enticed everyone to snack outside under the trees, so Rick took advantage of the private dining hall, keeping his voice low. “All this talk of combustion reminds me of the first time we made love.”
“Don’t, Rick.” She stopped at the door and looked at him then. The longing in her voice and her eyes confirmed his suspicions and stretched his patience to the limit, but he reached above her head to push the door open, allowing her hurried escape. Agnes and Herschel couldn’t get here too soon.
As Rick and Summer joined the group, the mail truck arrived. Charlie shuffled across the parking lot to meet it, returning with a stack of letters, a plastic Walmart bag and a grin that spread from ear to ear.
He continued grinning as he called out the recipients’ names on the letters, passing them out one by one until he was left with only the bag, which he held up for everyone to see. “And this,” he announced, “is fan mail for Howard Gerard, Jr.”
The boy’s eyes widened in delight. “Wow!” Howie grabbed the bag and rummaged through his mail as the other kids swarmed around him. He proudly showed off several small packages, then dove in again, surfacing with a clutch of letters in his hand.
“Open thomething!” Willard’s request was seconded all around.
Howie made quick work of tearing into one of the packages. As he tilted it to one end, a letter and a carefully folded and taped mass of tissue paper fell out into his hand. He ripped it open, exposing two arrowheads fashioned from pieces of flint.
He unfolded the letter and read aloud. “'Dear Howie, my parents read me the article about your mammoth molar. I like looking for old stuff, too. These are two arrowheads I found in one of the fields on our farm. If you would like to come visit me sometime, we could go look for stuff together. It would be fun. Write me back. Love, Brandy Sherwood.’”
Reggie’s nose crinkled in a sneer. “Ew, a girl?” He glanced around the group, drumming up support. “Howie’s got a girlfriend. Howie’s got a girlfriend.”
“Shut up!” Howie, his face blazing with humiliation, shoved the letter, arrowheads and all, back into the sack, pulling it