Chapter 11

When we get backfrom the lake, Redd disappears upstairs for a few minutes. I overhear the muted rise and fall of his voice as if he's on a phone call but nothing distinct.

He dashes out of the house to pick up Blue from the Lemon's house before I can see if his "Lip lettuce" is gone.

The truth is, I wasn't going to ask about the mustache. I wanted to know about the tattoo of the evergreen tree on his back.

It was familiar, but I was afraid of what it might mean, or not mean if I were mistaken.

Blue is a ball of energy when she gets back and Baloo is itching to get outside. Thankfully, it's cooled off so we organize a game of flashlight tag inside the old horse corral.

By the way, the mustache remains. Though it's grown on me.

The dog sticks close to Blue so we don't have much to worry about. Rather, we have pure lungs burning from running, stars glistening above, summertime fun.

The three of us laugh and hoot and clobber each other. We exchange another family hug and declare Baloo the winner.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family—the Reids. Minus the boyfriend/wedding ultimatum, my parents are great. Despite the sibling rivalry, my brother and I are close. But this is something else entirely and fills me up in a way that I didn't realize I craved.

Redd brings Blue upstairs under the auspices that he has a fun surprise for us both, but I can't see it yet.

I default to studying and stressing over my grandmother's recipe books and cards, searching for the winning one I know has to be here somewhere. She gave me this home and a passion for baking. Surely, she'll give me the recipe I need too.

Laughter filters from upstairs. Because they're taking a while, I hop in the shower. I contemplate putting Redd's jersey back on.

Is that weird? No, it was comfortable.

I follow their voices down the hall.

There's a whispered exchange and then Blue says, "I think she's out there. I heard the floor creak."

"Should we show her?" Redd whispers back.

"I think she'll love it as much as she loves you," Blue says.

My breath catches. My body freezes. My mind tells me to run. Though, the floor will squeak again, giving me away.

"Guys, I was going to head to bed soon. It's getting late," I throw my voice slightly so they don't think I was creeping around out here.

"On the count of three, you can come in," Blue says.

The pair counts down. The door opens.

Redd stands next to the sink with Blue seated beside him. His face is freshly shaved, revealing his full lips. Blue, the goofball she is, so filled with life and laughter, holds the remains of her brother's mustache up to the space above her lip. In the lowest register she can muster, she says, "Hello, my lady. I'm James Reddford. It's mighty kind to make your acquaintance."

We all burst into laughter. I can't tell where it stops and where the tears start because they're streaming down my face.

Blue goes quiet. "Do you not like it?" With concern, she glances up at her brother.

My smile rises like my heart. "No, I love it. These are happy tears." But it's not just the mustache. It's all of this.

I reach for Redd's cheeks, about to press a kiss to his lips, and then draw back. "It's great. Just as I remember him. What do you think?" I ask Blue.

"I think that you think my brother is handsome," Blue says with a grin.

Eyes wide, we both go slack-jawed.

Redd says. "Well, I am handsome and Whitney's freckles popped from being out in the sun so long today."

"I think you love her freckles." Blue beams a smile.

I don't have to look in the bathroom mirror to know that even my freckles are red right now.

"How much candy did you eat at the Lemon's house?"

"I had a tropical fruit smoothie, Hawaii pizza with pineapple and ham, and one piece of dark chocolate dipped in peanut butter. That's the Mrs. Lemon dessert special."

"So relatively healthy."

She wrinkles her nose. "I think they eat a lot of broccolis at their house."

Once more, we laugh and all is right in the world until I remember that at some point the summer will end. Then what?

After getting Blue off to bed, Redd and I meet in the hall as we did on that first night.

"Nice jersey," he says.

"Nice face," I retort.

His smile wavers like he tries to suppress it. "You can keep it on one condition."

I lift an eyebrow, worried about where this is going. I already have an ultimatum in my life and that's plenty, thank you.

Redd steps closer and smooths a loose wave behind my ear.

That inner tug stretches so tight, I risk shooting through the roof. "What is it?" I whisper.

Lowering his voice, Redd says, "You can keep it if I can keep you."

"Is that a promise?" I ask, feeling emboldened.

"They say love is a battlefield. It doesn't have to be. Not for us. Not anymore. We don't have to resist it because we're afraid of what might happen. If it's that I might hurt you..."

I lift onto my toes and he lowers his head.

We're a breath apart when I drop onto my heels. "Wait, I have another question, it's what I meant to ask you earlier."

His throat bobs on a swallow as my awkward Mr. Miyagi wax-on, wax-off sunblock application comes to mind, bringing with it a burning question.

"When I was putting on the sunblock, I got a good look at your tattoo. The big one on your back. Right along your spine is an evergreen tree like the kind we stood under that day."

Redd nods. "And if you look closely, our initials are on it."

"You got a tattoo of the tree we—?" There's a thought experiment I remember from college that goes something like this: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound? I'd like to modify it. If a woman falls for a guy but hasn't admitted it, does it still count?

Redd cups my jaw in his hand. "That kiss changed me forever. There hasn't been anything since that compared to it." He shakes his head. "When you said that it was a mistake, I had to do whatever I could to distance myself even if that meant not so much as speaking to you. I was afraid if I did, I'd lose control."

"But that wasn't it. I never said it was a mistake." Shaking my head, I say, "We both just assumed."

He winces. "Seriously?"

"I would've gladly kissed you again. We would've had to sneak around, given your best friend."

"You mean your brother?"

"You had more to lose. During those years, I was lucky if he so much as said two words to me on any given day. Though I admit I didn't help matters with my surly, sarcastic attitude. All the same, we were probably bad for each other. In that diary I mentioned earlier, I called you my kissnemesis." I can't help but laugh at how silly I was.

Redd barks a laugh before catching himself because Blue is probably just barely asleep. He takes my hand, leading us downstairs. Patches of moonlight form patterns on the living room floor.

"What about now? Am I still your kissnemesis?"

"Now?" My smile grows. "We'll have to see."

As if we're reluctant to let our hands go, our fingers remain linked, swinging between us.

"You used to be Little Miss Brainy Bad Girl..."

"And you were the town's bad boy.

"But you softened."

I squeeze his upper arm. "I'd say the same about you, but..."

"You used to listen to rock music."

"I still do sometimes. You?"

"During workouts, drills, and before games. Gets me pumped up."

"You used to drive a motorcycle."

"Now, I have three. They're in storage."

Our eyes meet. This is the moment when words are no longer enough. We shift into something else that goes deeper and transcends regular communication.

"That time on the camping trip, you kissed me like you meant it," I say.

"You kissed me like you meant it," Redd echoes.

Lifting onto my toes, I whisper, "I still do."

Redd's gaze sweeps across mine. "If we do this, there's no going back. We've burned the bridges and the boats."

I nod, knowing that with Blue in the picture, with both of us putting our adult but fragile hearts on the line, a kiss is more than that. It's the beginning of something. Of us both saying yes.

"Up. In. Flames." So am I.

The corners of his lips curl into a roguish smile, one filled with desire, one all for me.

Then we close the space between us and our mouths meet.

His hands slide into my hair, expertly removing the ponytail holder. My long waves cascade loosely down my back. His palms draw me close as my hands fist his shirt before I smooth them across the broad plane of his chest, along the span of his shoulders and then tug him close.

The longing inside is finally fulfilled.

As the kiss intensifies, Redd's scruff brushes my cheeks. I have the thought that I'm glad he no longer has the mustache, but also that I'd have kissed him either way.

His fingers trail along my collarbones before skirting along my arms. Then he plants his palm on my lower back, squeezing me closer.

I float away into the clouds, a place just for Redd and me, where ice or solid ground, day and night, or the past no longer matter. It's just us. Right now. His lips on mine, our hearts pounding, and whatever happens next not even a whisper of a thought.

"It's official, I'm no longer afraid of cooties," he says in a rough, low voice.

Nope. Redd is no longer my kissnememis.

I sleptin Redd's hockey jersey. It didn't quite smell like him, but I did in every place his fingers and lips touched me last night. However, I can no longer catch a comforting whiff of peppermint ice. At present, I wear eau de bovine. Blue and I were milking the cows and somehow got locked out of the farmhouse.

I don't have my keys because I typically don't need them if I'm just going out to the barn.

"That window is a little high," I point, shielding my eyes from the sun.

Blue suggested we find a ladder and she'd climb through it. I'm not confident she could remove the screen and am not eager to risk her getting hurt.

I gasp, realizing something. "The Milk Mustache truck keys are in Pippy." Taking Blue's hand, we race to the garage where I keep it sheltered.

"Does this mean I get to ride in it with you?" Blue grins.

I'm so used to her smiling now that I almost forgot that she rarely did when she first arrived.

"Yep, hopefully, our Pippy here will hit the speed limit this time." I tell her about the day we met and the trouble I had.

The old Peugeot pulls through for us, and soon we're on our way to the Barn where Redd is with the Red Hawks high school hockey team, bombing—in his words. I don't get the sense he means that in a good way because most days when he meets with them, he's a bit sulky when he returns.

The Barn smells like it always has—cold, sweat, popcorn, and hunger—not the stomach kind. More like with the same desire I had to get out of this town. I lead us to the team meeting room, which is like stepping back in time.

When we get there, Redd looks like he's going to blow a gasket. He relaxes somewhat when he sees us standing in the doorway.

I give an apologetic wave for interrupting and make a little key-turning motion with my hand.

Blue blurts, "This riff-raff are the ones who've been giving you trouble?"

Redd stiffens.

His sister shrugs. "That's what Micah said."

"You know Micah Lemon the Knights team captain?" The kid with stringy brown hair asks.

"Of course, I do. Macy and I are glue." Blue says with a sassy little bob of her head as if everyone should be aware of that fact.

Watch out world! The timid, nervous six-year-old Blue Reddford has left the building. And a commanding, confident young lady has arrived!

"Why did Redd get this gig anyway?" a pale kid asks.

Blue puts her arms in front of her chest. "Do you mean Mr. Reddford? He got in trouble for a penalty and this was his punishment. You could make your lives a lot easier if you just listen to him. If you didn't notice, you're part of the punishment."

She's wise for her age.

"We got locked out and I just need the house keys," I say not wanting to make this worse for Mr. Reddford.

"Is this Mrs. Reddford?" a husky kid asks. "Hubba, hubba."

"Paul," Redd growls, throwing him a sharp look.

"No, she's the Milk Mustache cookie lady," a small kid corrects. "Mrs. Milk Mustache Cookie Lady, I'm Greg."

Though Mrs. Reddford does have a good ring to it.

Redd eyes me, but I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't know how to handle this room or for some other reason.

"The riff-raff look like they're going to throw rotten fruit and vegetables at us," I mutter.

Redd's expression eases. "Remember the food fight you started junior year?"

I snort a laugh.

"Wait, that was you?" asks a kid with stringy hair. "Legendary at Clarkson."

"And my hockey stats aren't?" Redd grumbles.

The problem becomes clear. Just as I reverted to Little Miss Rebel Girl when I came back to Cobbiton, Redd transformed back into the kid he was when he occupied one of the chairs in this room rather than standing in front. Granted, he was a confident bad boy, but he wasn't in a leadership role.

I wink at him and turn around, having led rooms full of inflated egos many times.

"You are all enamored with Micah Lemon. Understandable. Redd here is also on the Knights now and you want him to sponsor you. To hand you whatever it is you want. That's not how it works. You have to earn it." I glance at the whiteboard where Redd wrote down some totals the team needs for various fundraising goals—they're hoping to get to the state championship and want to have enough to go to nationals if it's an option.

I nod, quickly understanding. "This is where you want to be. This amount is your objective. But you're way over here." I point to the total amount in the team account: $102. "You have a professional hockey player here who can show you things that your coach can only dream of. Don't miss the chance by wasting his time here when you could be on the ice. We have to reverse engineer how to get there quickly. So, each of you is going to come up with three fundraising ideas."

"We already did this," Redd mutters.

On a large pad set on an easel are the usual suspects: pizza night, lawn mowing, and wrapping paper sales.

I shake my head. "This isn't good enough. They've all been done before. The residents of Cobbiton can only eat so much pizza."

The husky kid interrupts with just how much pizza he can consume.

"Brainstorm. Next meeting, you're going to bring your next-level ideas with a detailed plan attached."

"What if we don't?" the pale kid asks.

"Then I won't bring cookies."

Blue shakes my arm. "We have Pippy here. Why don't we brainstorm now?"

She has a point because the fundraiser starts on the 4th of July at our town's street fair, which will be a prime opportunity for them to earn the money they need. Why put off until tomorrow what we can do today, then perhaps Redd will relax.

With some prompting on my part, the guys contribute new and creative ideas, including a calendar featuring the team members, a pancake and PJs breakfast buffet, board games with retirees at the community center—not sure how that will earn money, but we're getting somewhere.

However, it's time for them to skate and for Blue and I to go home with the house keys. As we're exiting, Paul, the husky kid says to Greg, the small kid, "Greg-o, leg-o my Eggo."

"What's an Eggo?" Blue asks.

"It's a kind of freezer waffle," I say at the same time an idea is born. "Have I ever said you're a genius?"

She beams a smile. "You've mentioned it."

As if I just took a shot of espresso and chased it with a sugar cookie and a glass of milk, I tell Blue my idea on the way home.

"So, they'd be like nachos, but with corn-based waffle chips, ice cream, chocolate or caramel sauce, whipped cream, and other toppings?"

I nod. "I think we can do it."

As soon as we're back at the farmhouse, Blue and I get to baking. She helps me make several attempts at the waffle cookie chips before we finally get it right.

The first batch is a disaster. The second is edible, and the third, I'd share with strangers. However, the fourth one is a masterpiece.

"We nailed it," I say as Redd walks in the door.

He smiles, but there's fatigue behind his eyes as he hugs Blue who draws me in to join the family hug.

"Mrs. Reddford had an idea," she says.

He stiffens.

"I had the idea?" I say, poking Blue playfully. "It was all you."

Redd flops onto the couch, telling us that he worked the kids hard on the ice today, meaning he also got a solid workout after not having played or practiced much in the last few weeks.

We tell him about the waffle nachos and try to come up with a clever name when he dozes off.

"Wachos?"

"Naffles?"

"WachoNaffles?"

I have a pen in my hand and give it a little wiggle, then point at the space above Redd's upper lip.

Blue's eyes widen as I draw a mustache were his used to be.

"I think this is naughty," she whispers.

"Very naughty, but it'll wash off."

"Where'd you learn this?"

"Remember Clancy, my twin?"

"Yep, and Kathleen. She was fancy. Clancy and Fancy."

We both stifle our giggles.

I whisper, "My sister-in-law-to-be officially has a new nickname."

"You're really going to call her that?"

"You betcha. Little sister privileges." I wink.

"I thought you said you're twins."

"He's older by forty-nine seconds. Anyway, when we were younger, Clancy and Redd would always prank me, so I'd prank them back. But if I could go back and skip all that and just be friends and a better sister, I would."

"I wish I had a sister."

"You have a brother who loves you. And I do too." I give her a side hug.

The corner of Redd's lip twitches. I can't help but think that he's awake and heard the whole thing.

The kitchen timer dings and Blue races toward the kitchen. "Be careful," I whisper shout as I scurry after her, so I don't get caught with ink on my hands.

"Promise I will be. But I can do this. You showed me how," she whisper shouts back.

A large, rough hand clasps my wrist, reeling me backward. I drop into Redd's lap.

His lips quirk.

"You were awake the whole time, weren't you?" I actually whisper.

His eyes pop open. "How could I not be? Whenever I'm near you?—"

I lean in. My eyes dip closed. "We have approximately ninety seconds alone," I whisper before our mouths crash together.