The Summer You Found Me (The Summer, #3)

by Elizabeth O'Roark

I instead move to the other side, toward white wood slats that rest against a wall, railings that curve, still smooth to the touch. A crib we didn’t end up needing.

The crib was in the basement of the Lake House in The Summer You Saved Me not in a storage unit. Continuity matters.

I frown at him as he pulls out a chair for me on the deck. “They treat you like a piece of meat. Do you enjoy being objectified?” He looks oddly pleased by my tirade. His mouth actually curves fully, if only to one side. “I’m a guy, Kate. I love being objectified. That’s living the dream.”