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“Last year, you two won in less than fifteen minutes. We figured it was time to up the challenge,” Blanche said, looking oh-so-innocent.
“Twinning!” Autumn shouted, giving a fist bump to outer space.
“Well, there will be no twinning this year,” Summer replied, but Autumn was already engaged in a PG-13 display of affection with her boyfriend. “Just winning, and we’re going to kick your butts.”
Autumn immediately broke off the game of tonsil hockey and stared Summer down. Her hands went to her waist, which jerked Randy into her. “How do you figure? I always carried you.”
Summer’s smile faltered a bit, and Wes tilted his head so that his lips were resting near her ear and whispered, “Don’t let her fool you. Every win you’ve ever accomplished has been because you are determined, passionate, and damn impressive. You’re one hell of a special woman. You don’t need a knight or your sister to fight your battles. You have yourself and you’re enough.”
She turned her head slowly until their mouths were practically lined up, and met his gaze. Her breath hitched. “You believe that?” she asked, as if none of the other men in her past had bothered to tell her what an amazing woman she was. It made him want to punch her ex in the nuts—Daryl Sanderson too.
“With all my heart.”
Her eyes were wide with gratitude and something akin to warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his lips briefly.
“You’ve got me cuffed, you’re in a wedding gown, and you’re staring at me like you want me to kiss you but you can’t even hold my hand. I’m getting mixed signals here,” he said, quietly so that only she could hear.
“My brain must be misfiring.”
Her blush told a different story. “Are you ready to say it yet?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, let me know when you are.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Autumn teased.
Summer turned to her sister and took a few confrontational steps forward, dragging Wes behind her. “About how we’re going to kick your backside! A billion-dollar algorithm says that Wes and I are the perfect match.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in algorithms?” Wes asked.
“Today I do.” She gifted him a smile that lit a fire in his chest. Then she twisted her hands to go palm to palm with his and linked their fingers before pumping their arms in the air. “Bring it, sis.”
As if on cue, both of their phones pinged letting them know there was a verified match within the vicinity. Letting them knowtheywere a verified match.
Wes was starting to like this app. He also liked the fact that she hadn’t deleted hers. Because if she had, she wouldn’t have been able to snoop around his profile, which she definitely had. The app told him every part of his profile she’d clicked on. Which had been all of it.
They’d breached a wall last night. Not a physical one, but an emotional one, and he wanted to keep exploring. Oh, he wanted to keep kissing, but that would come in due time.
“All right,” Uncle Giuseppe said excitedly. Because he wrote the clues, he and Cecilia were sitting this one out and acting as referees. “I have your first clue. When you get there, another clue will be waiting. Line up at the start line, and when I finish reading the clue the race will begin. The first team to snap all the pictures will win.”
“Ready?” Summer asked, her eyes flickering with a joy and anticipation so contagious that he couldn’t help but smile back. He also couldn’t help but fall into them for a long moment, and when he surfaced something had shifted in his rib cage.
“Ready,” he said back, but somehow his gut told him he wasn’t just talking about the race. He was talking about something deeply more important.
Giuseppe cleared his throat and in a booming voice announced, “The first clue is:Go to the first place you saw the angels and strike a pose.”
It was as if a shot had rung out. Screaming and giggles erupted from the group, causing passersby to stare. Not that people weren’t already staring at the two generations of women in wedding gowns, their skirts pulled up to their shins and running shoes on, in the middle of old-town Mystic.
“A church?” Wes guessed.
“Shhh, and no, the old cinema downtown,” she whispered in his ear as if it were a matter of national security. “My dad took us all to see theCharlie’s Angelsmovie one summer. Let’s go!”
“The new one or the original?”
“You’re such a Brit. The original was a show, the movie was with Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu.” She looked at the competition, who was disappearing around the corner, their veils flying like kites behind them.
“No time to jabber. We’re not going to lose this time.”