Kiss Me in the Summer - Barbara Dunlop Page 0,73
asked.
“Wait a minute,” Josh said. “Is this a New York City law firm?”
“That was the plan,” Cecily said. “But now we’re thinking a branch office in Rutter’s Point for Laila.”
“Great,” Madeline said to me. “Telecommuting. The best of both worlds.”
Josh wrapped his hand around mine.
“Details to be worked out,” Elizabeth said. She glanced around the park. “Corporate retreats will definitely be in Rutter’s Point.”
“Can we dance now?” Josh whispered into my ear.
“What about Butch?” I asked him.
“Auntie M, take Butch.” He handed Madeline the leash.
The music swelled around us as Josh and I stepped onto the wooden floor. The lights twinkled pretty overhead, while the floor flexed with the steps of a hundred dancers.
Josh’s arms were steady, and his steps were sure. I felt myself relax, really relax, for the first time in weeks.
He gathered me closer and sighed. “I can’t believe you’re staying.”
I rested my cheek on his chest to listen to his heart. “I can’t believe it either. I’m happy, so happy.”
“I’m in love with you,” he said.
I tipped my head to smile up at him. “That makes everything perfect.”
“And Dustin adopted Pooh-Pooh.”
I laughed with joy. “I guess she and I were never destined to be best friends.”
“She was jealous,” he said. “You’re so beautiful and classy and intelligent.”
“I don’t think dogs can tell any of those things.”
“Sure, they can. It’s all in the pheromones.”
“Well, I can tell that you’re handsome and compassionate and honorable.”
“Pheromones?”
“Exactly.”
The song was winding down and six—no, make that eight—people were standing beside the dance floor waiting for us to return. We weren’t going to be able to stay out here all night, as much as I would have liked to do just that.
“What are we going to tell Madeline?” I asked.
He looked confused. “About us?”
I nodded.
“That we’re us. Simple as that. She’ll insist you live with her for a while. Make her happy. Say yes.”
“I will.”
“And then,” he said, moving my hand to his lips for a sweet kiss. “When an acceptable amount of time has passed, we’ll decide how to make this permanent. Then you can move into my place.”
“I do love your place.”
“Butch will be thrilled to have you there full time.”
“And you?”
“I cannot wait to have you there full time. With hot chocolate every night.” He leaned down, tilting his head to mine. “And more.”
His kiss was tender and gentle, lingering through the final swells of the band’s song.
The End
*
Want more? Check out Barbara’s magical Christmas book, Jingle Bells and Wedding Vows!
Buy now!
Join Tule Publishing’s newsletter for more great reads and weekly deals!
Sign up now!
Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from
Jingle Bells and Wedding Vows
Barbara Dunlop
Keep reading below or buy now!
Kate
Maybe I was spiteful.
Or maybe I was just a good mother.
The way I was feeling right now, it could have gone either way.
The timer went off on my oven, and I realized that thirty minutes had gone by since the phone call from my ex-husband.
I rounded the kitchen island and stuffed my teddy bear oven mitts onto my hands. Whatever else Brock Andrews did today, he was not going to ruin my Mud-Pie Pecan Pie. It was the showpiece for tomorrow’s live episode of Cooking with Kate. The finished product was everything.
I pulled open the top unit of my wall oven. The dual built-in oven was my big splurge, my gift to myself when my viewership on Cooking with Kate topped one hundred thousand. The revenue stream had been smaller back then, and it took all I’d saved to buy the Classic Heat 4000. But I hadn’t regretted it for a single second.
I slid the pie carefully from the rack. The sugar filling was still liquid, and I didn’t want to splash any of it onto the pristine crust. The crust was golden brown, the crinkled edges perfectly even.
I held my breath as I set the pie down on the stovetop.
There—something good from the day.
Christmas might be ruined, but at least I had pie.
I wanted to eat it.
I knew stress eating was a bad idea. And it was hours away from setting up. Plus, if I ate it myself, I’d have to bake another one tonight after the twins went to bed.
But, man it was tempting.
I pulled off the oven mitts my daughter had given me three Christmases ago and perched on a stool at the kitchen island.
There I let reality sink all the way in.
Brock was getting remarried. Jacinda Addington had succeeded in getting a diamond ring on her finger, and she wasn’t losing any time getting him to the altar.
A