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Dad always considered himself an outsider. After a bitter battle with the cornhole team captain about pre-game rituals, Dad had banned our family from taking part in any town activities. He couldn’t understand why his suggestions for yoga at dawn and rap battles before every match didn’t catch on. His decision meant no more three-legged chocolate pudding-eating festivals, no more National Kissing Day - an enormous loss for me - and not even Walk-on-Stilts Day.

Mom and Dad lived in Florida now. When I was a kid, we were dirt poor, but they supported my career dreams. They scrimped and saved to get me through junior hockey and into college. As soon as I signed up for my first pro team, I helped them buy the house of their dreams and sent them off to enjoy it.

The coffee pot gurgled on the counter, and I stood to grab a cup, filling it to the top. The sweet, earthy blend filled my nostrils. But as I tipped it back, a soft voice from the hallway got my attention.

“You have clothes on today, then? I didn’t recognize you in daylight, not creeping around and all.”

Ro.

I smiled. She was one to talk. Last night, her shirt clung to her chest like something from a teenage fantasy. Still, traces of the cheeky little kid I’d grown up with lingered in her words and smirk.

But she wasn’t a kid anymore. Like a breath of fresh summer air, she’d drifted into the room, long legs and floral shampoo. And now she was all I could focus on.

She dropped her bag on the kitchen table and wandered over to kiss her Gran and smell the muffins. It would take a monk not to notice how her shorts slightly lifted as she bent over. I dragged my eyes away.

Maggie let out a chuckle. “Now, Rowena. You promised you’d be nice to Brody.”

Ro stood back up, side-eying me. “He knows I’m only teasing. What are you up to today, Gran?”

Maggie rattled on about pottery wheels and checking on cornhole rule books. She could have been speaking in tongues for all I understood. Instead of listening, I leaned back against the counter and watched Ro.

Unlike last night, she wore a little makeup. She’d pulled her long, dark hair into a ponytail on the top of her head and wore the tightest T-shirt imaginable. The words Plume ‘n Zoom were printed across the front. Coop had told me she’d gotten a job at the town’s gas station.

Ro yawned, reaching her arms over her head. The shirt clung to her breasts even more, and I chewed my bottom lip. Mercy.

My arrival shocked her last night, but the blush on her cheeks when I teased her felt like old times. No. Not completely like old times. Old times meant piggybacks around the yard. Trick ortreating in old, white sheets and fishing in the lake. A lifetime of memories. Nope.

Ro wasn’t Coop’s kid sister anymore, not with those endless legs and cinched-in waist.

She picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and took a bite, surveying me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sure Brody can help you.”

“Wait, what?” Damn, why hadn’t I listened to their conversation instead of letting my thoughts run south?

“Dismantle a dance floor. It’s set up in the town square.”

I laughed. “Dare I ask why?”

Ro widened her eyes as if I’d just announced I’d be singing at the next Super Bowl. “For the lindy-hoppers.”

As if that made any sense.

“Now Ro, Brody’s been a bit out of the loop with town life.” Maggie lifted a hand to rest on my shoulder. “Last week was national lindy-hop day, so we had ourselves a contest. A little dance-a-thon. I oversaw the decorations.”

“Lindy-hop?” Were these women mad?

“Of course,” said Maggie. “The Wainscotts lasted fourteen hours straight. I’m surprised they didn’t wear their feet down to the stumps.”

I chuckled, taking a last sip of my coffee. “Nice visual. But sure, of course. Whatever you need. I have a few calls to make, but after that, I’m at your service.”

“Aren’t you accommodating?” Ro murmured, taking one of the hot muffins from the tin, bouncing it from one hand to the other. She blew on it a little, her lips forming a small “O.” Finally, she wrapped it in some kitchen towel and popped it into her bag.

“I need caffeine.” With a swing of her ponytail, she reached up to the cupboard to get a cup. At the stretch, her T-shirt rose just a little, and my eyes found the creamy skin on her waist like a guided missile.

I swallowed. I was acting like a dog in heat, my gaze clinging to Ro like Saran Wrap.

This wasn’t the first time I felt this way. We’d shared one last idyllic summer together before I left to start my hockey scholarship. Back then, we bantered and joked, just like always, but as the summer heated up, so did we.

I held my breath, remembering our furtive glances across the room as we watched movies with Coop. The blush on her cheeks that appeared far more often than before. The difference in how she carried herself like she’d left her tomboy era way, way behind. And then there was that last night. The one where we’d almost boiled over. The one I messed up badly.