Page 11 of Beautiful Crazy

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Page 11 of Beautiful Crazy

Gemma snorts, her whole face brightening as she takesin her son. “Okay, enough hating on Mom. Dinner is ready.”

Sutton and I follow Gemma into the kitchen, where we all dish up. The pizza looks incredible, and she made a salad and some breadsticks to go with it. I can’t even remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I keep telling myself I’m going to be better at cooking for myself, and then it never happens.

“How are you enjoying Blossom Beach?” Gemma asks once we start eating. “Bet it’s a lot different than where you’re from.”

“Where are you from?” Sutton asks in between bites.

“From Seattle,” I tell him before directing my gaze to Gemma. “I’m enjoying it here so far, aside from the atrocious humidity.”

She laughs, taking a sip from her water. “It’s not that bad.”

“For you,” I say. “You’re from here, and your body is used to it.”

“True.” She shrugs. “Your body will acclimate soon, I’m sure. What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to so far?”

Unable to help myself, my lip curls up as I reply, “The pier.”

I watch her throat work as she swallows, a grin spreading on her face. “Oh, yeah? It is a pretty great pier.”

Nodding, I add, “It’s beautiful.”

Excitement unfurls low in my gut as I watch her cheeks pinken.

“The pier’s cool, but I like the beach better,” Sutton interjects. “The sand is fun to play in.”

Gemma snorts, peeling her eyes away from mine to look over at her son. “The beach is pretty cool too, babe.”

After we finish eating, I stand and grab Gemma’s plate. “Let me do the dishes since you made the dinner.”

She rises from her chair. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it. The dishwasher is broken, so I have to wash them by hand.”

My brows pinch as we enter the kitchen. “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”

“No. I keep meaning to call somebody to fix it, but work has been crazy lately, and I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

I set the plates in the sink, turning the water on. Glancing over at her, I hand her the towel resting on the counter. “I wash, you dry?” I suggest, a smirk tugging on my lips as she takes the towel from me.

Gemma grabs her phone off the counter, and a moment later, music starts playing softly like before. It’s some country song I’ve never heard of. Country typically isn’t my genre of choice, but seeing the mindless way Gemma sways as she dries the dishes I hand her and how she hums along to the lyrics has me wanting to hear more.

As I pass her the sheet she used to cook the pizza on, our eyes meet, and as if realizing what she’s doing, her cheeks pinken and she bites down on her bottom lip, stifling whatever smile is trying to come through.

Sometime after her and Sutton got home earlier, but before I came over for dinner, she threw her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. It’s messy, strands coming down to frame her face, and I can’t help noticing how soft yet sexy her features are. Dark brown eyes, big and round,sit atop full cheeks, her nose straight and narrow, slightly upturned at the tip, and her lips are the perfect amount of plump, with her bottom one slightly fuller than her top, giving her a natural pout when her face is resting.

I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I could stare at her all night long, and not get tired of seeing her. And the fact that we literally just met makes it even harder to understand.

What is it about her that I’m so drawn to?

Later on, after Sutton shows me more of his baseball collection, I say bye to him as Gemma walks me to the door. I might be imagining it, but I swear the air around us is tense… in a good way. Peering up at me, her hand on the doorknob, she says, “Thanks for coming over. You probably made Sutton’s day talking baseball cards with him.”

I hold her gaze for a moment, my heart pounding harder. “It’s my pleasure.”

Before I have a chance to leave, Sutton runs up, giving me one of his limited-edition cards. “I want you to have this one,” he says excitedly.

“Buddy, I can’t take this from you.”

“It’s one I have two of, and I want you to have it. You said you like that team.”

“It’s my favorite.” My chest squeezes.




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