CHAPTER NINETEEN
Without hesitation, Landon meets me. It’s a sweet kiss—not searing like the one in the kitchen or new and exciting like the one in the barn—sweet. The kind that’s interrupted by smiles.
But through it all, the little voice in the back of my head warns me to think about the consequences of falling for another summer boy.
I shift back after a moment so I can meet Landon’s eyes. “Just this one time, understand?”
“Just this?” he asks, incredulous, raising his voice so I can hear him over the cracks and booms of the last of the firework display.
I nod.
He sets his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, smiling in a way that makes me think he’s wondering how he found such a difficult girl.
After a moment, he opens his eyes and meets my gaze. “Then let’s make it memorable.”
He slides his hand along the base of my neck, bringing me closer, and our mouths meet again. The sky quiets, and the kiss deepens.
When the first car lights shine through the trees, alerting us people will be arriving back at the campground soon, Landon breaks the kiss. “I suppose we should climb down before everyone gets here.”
I nod.
He presses one last soft, short kiss to my lips and then we carefully make our way to the ladder. The only problem is…the ladder’s on the ground.
We stare down at it.
“That’s inconvenient,” Landon finally says, looking at me.
We hold each other’s gaze for several full seconds before laughter bubbles up inside of me, and I can no longer contain it. Landon grins, chuckling himself.
“Might as well sit.” Landon lowers himself to the edge of the roof. I join him, and we dangle our legs over the edge while we wait for Mom and Uncle Mark to show up.
“What’s your mom going to think about us watching the fireworks from the roof?” Landon asks as Uncle Mark’s truck pulls into the drive.
“Honestly? I have no idea.”
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
As soon as they’re out of the truck, we wave our hands and call out to get their attention. Mom looks over, startled.
“Lacey Harriet Adele! What are you doing on the roof?”
Both middle names? She’s not happy.
“Harriet Adele?” Landon teases quietly.
I gently elbow him in the ribs as I holler back, “We were watching the fireworks, but the ladder fell while we were up here.”
Uncle Mark grins and walks below us, craning his neck to look up. “How do you plan to get down?”
I set my hands on my hips. “You’re going to hand us that ladder.”
“I am?” he teases. Thankfully, he’s more amused than my mother.
After a few more minutes of joking, he finally sets the ladder against the house and holds it so we can climb down.
“Goodnight, Landon,” Mom says, but it really means, “You’re in trouble, Landon. Go back to your camper.”
He gives her a sheepish grin. “Night, Mrs. Mor—Cassie. Night, Mark.” Before he goes, he turns back to me and mouths, “Goodnight, Lacey.”
It warms me all the way to the tips of my toes.
“Bye,” I mouth back.
At least Mom waits until he’s gone before the scolding begins. “The roof, Lacey? In the dark? Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” Mark says gently. “She’s fine.”
Mom scowls at him, but she finally gives in. Turning back to me, she says, “Don’t do it again.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I swear.
Before we go inside, I glance toward the campground. “What happened with Evie?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Sarah put her up in a hotel in town and told her to drive home tomorrow. Landon’s made it very clear he doesn’t want her here.”
Satisfied, I nod and head toward the house.
“How well could you see the fireworks from up there?” Uncle Mark asks.
I glance at Mom before I hide a smile and say, “Pretty well.”
I don’t think I need to admit I didn’t watch most of them.
Uncle Mark grins at my mother. “Maybe we should all climb up there next year?”
She laughs and gives him a good, hard shove to the arm. “Not on your life.”
***
“What did that art curator want?” I finally remember to ask Mom as we’re making dinner several weeks after the man showed up. With everything going on with Landon, I forgot to ask.
She chops bell peppers to add to the onions already sautéing in the skillet. “He wants to show some of my work in his gallery.”
“So…did he take anything?”
The peppers hiss and spit as she adds them to the hot skillet. “He took a few pieces on consignment and said he’d see how much interest they garner.”
“That’s good, right? You’re excited?”
She shrugs, snacking on a leftover piece of bell pepper. “I don’t know if anything will come of it.”
What she really means is she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.
“Your stuff is amazing,” I tell her. “It deserves to be in galleries…not coffee shops.”
“It was very kind of Betta to let me display a few pieces,” Mom reminds me almost sternly.
I nod, feeling adequately chastised, and stir rice and cooked sausage in with the peppers and onions. The conversation drops off as I finish preparing the jambalaya so it can cook.
“So…how are things going with Landon?” Mom asks smugly just as I’m putting the lid on the pot and turning down the temperature to a simmer.
That, Mother Dearest, is an excellent question.
“Fine.”
She crosses her arms, smiling in a way that makes me want to avoid the question. “Just fine?”
“We’re great, okay? Landon’s great.”
The scary thing is I mean it with my whole heart. Landon is great…and we’re pretty great together. Too bad our poor relationship—or whatever you want to call it—is doomed. Star-crossed lovers and all that.
“He seems sweet,” she says, getting all gooey and mom-ish on me. “And his family is wonderful.”
Yes, I know. It’s like she’s insistent on rubbing lemon juice on a wound—and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.
Why couldn’t our mothers see this was a bad idea?
Probably because teenagers don’t actually fall in love, right? Like Paige said, you have to date several guys before you end up with the right one.
But what if you find him early?
Does that mean you don’t get to keep him because the timing is all wrong? If so, that’s a pretty crummy love story.