Perfect Kiss (Mason Creek Book 9) by Lacey Black

Author:Lacey Black [Black, Lacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lacey Black Books
Published: 2021-07-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Leni

“Trace, are you ready?” I holler, checking my watch for the umpteenth time since we got home from my parents’ house.

“Ready!” he proclaims, running from his room in a pair of jeans and cowboy boots.

Not what I laid out for him.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, making sure there’s snacks packed in the bookbag I’m taking with fresh clothes for Trace, a few juice boxes, and things he can eat if he gets hungry.

“My boots! Papa says they’re good for fishing. We’re going fishing, right?” he asks, his eager, hopeful eyes meeting mine.

“We are,” I confirm, checking the bag one more time.

Earlier, I had barely returned home from retrieving Trace when the text came from Malcolm. He still wanted to take us fishing and riding at his grandparents’ homestead just outside of town, and we made the plan to leave at one. That gave us the entire afternoon to enjoy our outing.

Just then, a knock sounds on the downstairs outside door. “Just a minute,” I holler before turning to my son. “Grab your tennis shoes too, just in case.”

When he takes off for his bedroom, I go down the stairs to unlock the door. Malcolm looks freshly showered and smells amazing. He’s wearing a light-colored T-shirt that hugs his upper arms and chest, well-worn blue jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots. Plus, a ball cap. I never thought they were sexy until I saw one on top of his head.

He looks positively edible.

“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never make it to my grandparents’ place,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” I state quickly, clearing my throat and the memory of our shared kisses from my brain.

Okay, let’s not go that far. There’s no way I’ll be forgetting those kisses anytime soon.

He steps forward, bends down, and slides his lips against mine. “You look beautiful,” he whispers before pulling the door closed behind him.

I glance down, taking in my fitted T-shirt, black shorts, and old sneakers. My hair is pulled through the back of a ball cap and I’m not wearing any makeup. “Mess is probably more accurate.”

Malcolm tsks and shakes his head. He leans down, somehow avoiding the clash of our hats, and kisses me on the lips. “Stunning,” he whispers before standing to his full height. “Where’s Trace?”

“Here! And ready,” my son exclaims, practically running down the stairs to join us.

“Let me grab my bag and keys. I’ll be right back.”

I triple check the bag before I finally concede I have everything, including a small baggy of first aid items. When I return downstairs, I find Malcolm and Trace already outside. Trace is telling Malcolm all about his sleepover with the girls last night, but I’m struck by the image they create. There, standing in the gravel, is a man and my son. They’re both wearing jeans, T-shirts, and boots, and while their features are completely different, it’s their mannerisms that catch my eye. The way they both have their arms crossed over their chests, Malcolm’s as he listens intently and Trace’s as he mimics the man in front of him.

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