“Holy sh—shoelaces.” Dak barely catches himself, rubbing the point of impact above his ear. “What the heck was that for?”
“Flapflap flies!” Grier shrieks, reaching for the plush bat again, and whips it his way a second time. This time, Dak has the foresight to duck.
A chuckle rumbles low in Lex’s chest as he pushes to his feet. “If you hadn’t noticed, my daughter may have a future as a pitcher.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Dak grumbles, ruffling Grier’s hair, then gestures to the two of us. “And you two are lucky you’re so cute together, or else this would be a whole lot weirder.”
A relieved smile pulls at my lips. Coming from my brother, that’s a glowing endorsement. “Thanks, Dak.” I reach for Lex’s hand, and he pulls our interlaced fingers to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against my knuckles.
“Yeah, yeah.” Dak cringes, waving the two of us off toward the door. “Just because I approve of it doesn’t mean I’m ready to see you two being all couple-y yet. Go do that somewhere else, all right?”
With one last round of good-bye kisses for Grier and final instructions for Dak, we’re out the door, and date night has officially begun. I can hardly believe it.
Lex presses his key fob twice, unlocking his car in the driveway, but still insists on opening the door for me.
I slide into the warm leather interior, and instantly, everything feels right with the world. It only took ten years, but I’ve finally ended up back where I’m supposed to be—windows down, fiddling with the radio as Lexington Dane’s designated shotgun rider. He has a much nicer car than he had back then, and we’re older now, but the way my heart squeezes in my chest with one look at him hasn’t changed a bit.
With one hand draped over the steering wheel, Lex slides on his sunglasses and speeds out of the driveway toward the beach, racing the sun that’s sinking lower in the sky.
“We’re going to make it just in time for sunset,” he says over the sound of wind whipping past our open windows, his smile reaching all the way up to his aviators.
“Let’s make sure we don’t get pulled over for speeding first,” I say, teasing.
He reaches across the console to give my thigh a squeeze, but instead of pulling away, he leaves his hand resting on my thigh, his thumb brushing against the hem of my sundress and tracing slow easy circles on my skin. “If we get pulled over, I’ll just tell them the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Officer, I’m rushing so my girlfriend and I can see the sunset.”
A laugh bubbles out of me at his dumb excuse for speeding, but it doesn’t slow the blush spreading across my cheeks. I can’t help it. Every time he uses the g-word around me, I’m as giddy as the first time he asked me out, all those years ago on my parents’ couch.
Lex slows to the speed limit as we approach our destination—the ice cream shop on Wilmington Beach. He ran a dozen date ideas past me this week, but it only felt right to come back to the place where it all began. The line curves out the door, which isn’t out of the ordinary for a slightly cooler summer night like tonight, but I don’t mind the wait. It gives Lex and me plenty of time to reminisce on the nights we used to spend here way back when.
“Remember that time you dropped your ice cream in the sand the second we stepped out of here?” He gives my side a playful squeeze, and my mouth quirks up in an easy smile at the memory.
“I sure do. You turned around, went right back up to the counter, and bought me another one. Like the gentleman you are.”
He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed, then snaps his fingers. “One scoop double-chocolate fudge, one scoop of cookies and cream. Right?”
“No way. You remember my exact order?”
A proud, wide smile breaks across his face. “Of course I do. I don’t forget the important stuff.”
“I’m not sure my ice cream order qualifies as important,” I say with an eye roll, but he just shakes his head in protest.
“I strongly disagree. I think everything about you is important.”
When it’s our turn at the counter, Lex repeats my order to the teenage girl wielding the ice cream scoop, adding on a double scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself. The same as Grier’s order when I brought her here, if my memory serves me. Like father, like daughter.
In exchange for our two sugar cones, Lex pulls a crisp fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and hands it to the girl behind the counter, insisting she keep the change. She’s just as wide-eyed with disbelief as I am, but Lex laces his fingers with mine and tugs us out of line before any of us can get another word in.
“That was quite the tip,” I murmur as we stroll out the door and toward the beach. It’s a gorgeous night, the gentlest breeze barely stirring the sand beneath our feet. Nights like this only come around once or twice a summer here in Wilmington. I guess even Mother Nature is on our side tonight.
“I always feel bad for teenagers working those kinds of jobs,” Lex says. “We were young, broke high schoolers once too, you know?”
I nod. “I remember all too well.”
“I spent so many years working those minimum-wage jobs, and now that I’m lucky enough to be doing as well as I am, I might as well spread the love around a bit.” He pauses to take a generous lick of his ice cream. “Who knows? Maybe that ice-cream scooper girl will be the next big thing in real estate.”
“The penthouse princess,” I say, grinning.
Lex chuckles, weaving one arm around my waist and pulling me in for a soft strawberry-flavored kiss. “Actually, that role is filled, thank you very much.”
As the sun inches toward the horizon, we wander down the beach, our fingers intertwined, laughing and kissing until both the daylight and the ice cream are gone. It’s the epitome of a perfect night, the kind of night I’d like to relive for the rest of the summer.
And I just might.
In fact, I might spend the rest of my summers like this from here on out. I may have let Lexington Dane slip away from me when he was just a boy, but he’s a man now, and I don’t plan to ever let him go.
We find our way back to the car, placing bets the whole ride home as to whether Dak will be passed out on the couch. Lex insists that he’ll be wide awake and raiding the fridge for sloppy joe leftovers, but I’m not so sure.
Turns out, we’re both right—when we get home, we find him snoozing on the living room sectional, a cold, half-eaten sloppy joe on the coffee table.
I gently shake him, and he startles awake, muttering something about Dinky the Dragon catching the ball. Yep, somebody has been introduced to Grier’s favorite board book.
“Toddlers, man,” he grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand while digging his keys from his pocket with the other.
Once we’ve shooed Dak out the door, we tiptoe up the stairs and peer through Grier’s cracked door to check on our Sleeping Beauty. Despite his bemoaning how tough tonight was, Dak seems to have done a pretty good job. Grier is sleeping soundly in her favorite ladybug pajamas, her little chest rising and falling with easy breaths.
“God,” Lex says softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m related to that angel.”