He’d hoped they would have some privacy up here, but asking for complete isolation on the Fourth of July probably had been expecting too much. At least, Lee thought, there weren’t too many other people up here on the roof of his building. Looking around, he could see another couple, as well as a mother and two children. They’d staked out opposite corners of the roof already.
He dragged a lounge chair across to the corner he’d chosen. “There should be another one of these around somewhere.”
“I don’t see one,” Amanda replied. “I’ll be fine, Lee. Go ahead and sit down.”
“By myself?”
She laughed and perched on the side of the chair. “This thing’s not made for two.”
“But it could be.” He guided her into his lap and then leaned back into a semi-recumbent position with her cuddled against his chest. “See?”
“I guess I do. What if I get too heavy, though?”
“You, heavy?” He chuckled and pulled her closer, brushing his lips at her hairline. “Never. I’ll probably get too uncomfortable first.”
She pushed up so that he could see the raised eyebrow on her face, and that was when it hit him. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean like that. I just meant that I’m not soft like a pillow.”
“Uh-huh.” But she acquiesced, nestling back down against him. “How much longer before the fireworks, anyway?”
He had to twist his arm a little more than usual to see his watch, but it wasn’t impossible. “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I’ve never known them to start right on time.”
“And you’re sure we’ll be able to see them from here?”
“Amanda,” he chided, mildly exasperated. “Don’t you think I would’ve checked before suggesting this?”
“But weren’t you living somewhere else this time last year? How can you know for sure?”
He sighed into her hair. “I asked my new neighbors one afternoon, after you’d already left.”
“Oh. Are they up here?”
Lee craned his neck again. “I don’t see them. Doesn’t mean they won’t be later. They’re good folks. I’ve really been enjoying living here so far.”
“Why did you move, anyway?”
How could he explain it without sounding like a hopeless sap? “Lease was up.”
“You could have renewed, couldn’t you? Was there something wrong with the old place that you didn’t like?”
Yes. You weren’t there. The thought leapt into Lee’s mind before he had a chance to squelch it. “I, ah, I just like to switch things up every now and then.”
She hummed softly, but didn’t say anything else. Lee closed his eyes, reveling in the smell of her shampoo, her perfume, and that unique scent that was just her. Even when she was dirty and sweaty from working out, or worn out from too long on a case without a break — neither of which were the case right now — that last was always there. He was coming to crave it.
Amanda stroked his face. “This is nice.”
“It is. I’m surprised you were able to make it.”
“You were?” She would have pushed back up again, but he gently held her down. “Why?”
“Wouldn’t you need to take the boys somewhere?”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “I asked Joe to do it this year. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“I do,” he replied, though he was startled to hear her talking this way about her children. She’d never before implied that they created even the lightest of burdens. “I’m also surprised he didn’t wiggle his way out of it.”
“I didn’t give him a chance. I just asked him last night, and I made sure they were with me when I did. He couldn’t say no without looking bad in front of them.” She shrugged against his chest. “And they were far too excited earlier today for me to be willing to listen even if he had tried to back out of it.”
“What about that lady he was with at the movies?”
“What about her? If she doesn’t already know he has kids, it’s time for her to learn.”
He brushed another kiss at her hairline. “Who are you and what have you done with Amanda King? She’s always happy to spend any time she can with her kids. She’d never blow them off just for a date.”
At that, Amanda laughed out loud. “It’s been seven weeks, and you still think that? No, you’re right. I always want them safe, but they are when they’re with Joe. And for once, I wanted to spend a holiday with you.”
“We’ve spent holidays together before.”
“Only New Year’s. I wanted to try something else.”
Any reply he might have offered was interrupted by a flash of light. The booming noise of the first fireworks followed a second later.
Amanda twisted slightly in his arms, seeking a better vantage point. “That was pretty.”
“That was early,” he countered. “Probably went off before they meant it to.”
“Both can be true, you know. That it’s early and that it’s pretty.”
Lee chuckled softly, resisting the urge to shift her to a more comfortable position. Hadn’t he been the one who’d claimed they’d be fine if they shared this lounge chair? It should have been. He’d picked Amanda up before; he knew how heavy she was. So why did it seem like even the tiniest movement from her sent warning tingles through whatever arm or leg was immediately underneath? Come to think of it, why couldn’t he feel his right foot at all anymore?
She shifted again, and the involuntary gasp was out before he could stop it.
Amanda bounced to her feet. “I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me I was too heavy?”
“Because you’re not.” His answer sounded far more petulant than he meant for it to be. “Amanda, come on. Sit back down.”
“No. No, I’ll go see if I can find another chair.”
“Amanda,” he protested, sitting up so he could reach out for her. “I liked sharing with you.”
“You might have, but your body didn’t. It’ll only be a second, Lee. I’ll be back before the main show —”
He grabbed for her again, and that was when disaster struck. As his weight shifted to the edge of the lounge chair, it overbalanced and tipped over with a loud clatter. Lee hit the ground hard enough to cause a couple of bruises, but the worst injury was to his own pride. Since when had he lost the ability to cuddle with a pretty woman on a beautiful summer night?
Amanda started fussing over him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he muttered, arranging his legs underneath himself before pushing to a stand. “Just let me get this thing put back —”
“Hey,” interrupted a third voice. “You guys mind keeping it down? The fireworks are about to start.”
Neither one of them had seen the older of the two children come over to them. Now that he was closer, Lee saw that the word child wasn’t quite right; the young man was perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, and by the look on his face, definitely understood what had been going on between the two of them.
Amanda brushed herself off. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we had a little accident.”
“And my mom says teenagers are gross. Yuck. If you want to be like that, you should go back down to your apartment.”
“Look,” began Lee, irritated. “It’s not what you —”
“Whatever. Save it. And do whatever you want with each other. Just at least be quiet so everyone else can watch the fireworks, will ya? My sister,” and he vaguely indicated his mother and the other child, “she’s already starting to whine.”
At this exact moment, Lee couldn’t say that he blamed her, but he was supposed to be one of the adults here. Allowing himself a single breath, he nodded. “Well, you can go tell her the show’s over. At least the one down here, anyway.”
The kid snorted but trotted off. Behind him, he could hear Amanda beginning to chuckle.
“I thought we were going to watch the fireworks,” he groused.
“We still can. From separate chairs.” She pointed toward an empty one a few dozen feet away. “Just be still. I’ll be right back.”
With a sigh, Lee closed his eyes and admitted defeat. Maybe, he thought, they could cuddle in his apartment after the show. Assuming the mood hadn’t already been irretrievably broken. And this time, there was nothing and no one he could blame aside from his own body.