June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

saw you eyeing me in the tree house.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmurs against my T-shirt, her fingers drifting downward and inching beneath the hem. “Think we can occupy the kids with a movie while we lock ourselves in the bedroom?” “You mean, without tears or bloodshed?” “Valid.” Taking her by surprise, I bend down, grip her by the thighs, and haul her onto my back. June squeals, wrapping her legs around my waist and burying a fist in my hair for leverage. “I guess I can wait. But the moment you blow out your candles, you better be well on your way to blowing—” Her hand slaps over my mouth as she laughs out, “Brant!” “You can’t look at me like that and not expect me to obsessively think about what that look implies, Junebug.” I start to move toward the open patio door with June bouncing on my back, holding on tight through her giggles.