Her shoulders sagged, and she walked away.
I punched the air as my doorbell rang.
Summer looked quite pleased with herself, and quite pleasant in her running shorts and purple sneakers, her blonde hair high in a ponytail. Her cheeks were red, her skin flushed from running. Would other activities bring that same pink glow to her face?
To the exposed flesh above her sports bra?
To . . .
Quickly, I dismissed the freight train of dirty thoughts, because I had to.
Also, because . . . coffee.
She thrust a cup into my hand. “Coffee. Just the way you like it.” She took a beat, pausing before delivering our oft-said punchline, “Without tea.”
“Superhero indeed,” I said, taking the drink then motioning with my free hand for her to tell me what went down.
Squaring her shoulders, she flicked an unseen piece of lint off her Lycra top. “Call me Super Friend. Able to deflect clingy exes in a single bound. As soon as I saw her, I walked over, said a cheery good morning, then eyed her two cups of tea with friendly concern.”
“And?”
“And then I said, ‘By the way, if that’s for Oliver, he doesn’t care for tea. Go figure. But that’s my boyfriend for you.’”
I beamed as she continued. “Then I trotted inside, said hi to the doorman, and left her to tuck her tail between her legs. She did tuck her tail, right?”
“Totally tucked. Saw it when I peeked out the window.”
Summer blew on her fingernails. “Yay, me.”
“Thank you for your excellent service,” I said.
“It was easy. No doubt you’ll need me again for the next crazy ex-girlfriend.”
We left my building a minute later, finding Hazel across the street waiting for the bus.
When she spotted me walking next to Summer, I immediately grabbed Summer’s hand, threaded our fingers tightly together, and dropped a quick kiss onto her cheek.
Her breath hitched, and she whispered a surprised oh. A sexy-sounding oh. One that had the freight train starting to chug out of the station again.
But there were exes to deflect.
“She’s across the street,” I said in her ear.
“Oh.” Summer straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Well, in that case.” She tugged me closer, looping her arm possessively around my waist, let out a throaty laugh, then returned the kiss.
She dusted her lips across my jaw, sending an arrow of heat straight up my spine. Then she whispered in my ear, “Peas and carrots, peas and carrots, peas and carrots.”
Good thing she’d mentioned the veggies, because I’d been borderline aroused.
But I hated peas, so that took care of that.
7SUMMER
Present day
For a second, I remember that whisper of a kiss.
Tender, gentle. The slide of his lips against my cheek.
The soft whoosh in my belly.
So fleeting, and then it was gone, and Hazel boarded the bus.
“Never to be heard from again,” I say, finishing the story.
“Thanks to Super Friend,” Oliver says as we reach the crosswalk, slowing to a stop at the light.
I tap my chest, imagining my Super Friend insignia is stitched on top of my shirt. “I’m awesome at saving your ass.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “You are. Especially from exes who want to take macchiato-making classes.”
“I thought it was cheese-making that turned you off?”
“Oh, no doubt the macchiato was coming next.”
I nod sagely. “Good thing you cut it off. So, can you just admit you have douchey exes too?”
He shakes his head. “Get it right, woman. Men have crazy exes. Women have douchey exes.”
