He runs a finger through my tangled hair and kisses the tip of my nose. “I’ll check to see if the coast is clear. Then I can at least pretend I was giving you a tour and we can poke our heads into the common area and say ‘hi’ to the guys.”
“I should go. Not because I don’t want to stay. I do. I’ve just got a big day tomorrow.”
He groans and pretends he’s offended. “I already hate sharing you with the bakery.”
“And yet you were elbow-deep in cookie dough with me twenty-four hours ago.”
“That was different,” he mutters. “I got to kiss you whenever I wanted.”
“You still can.”
“Good. Because I plan on doing that every chance I get.”
My heart does a ridiculous somersault and he kisses me one more time before unlocking the door and poking his head out. “Coast is clear.”
I step out. Coat zippered, scarf wrapped around my neck, and cheeks still flushed.
Hayes follows me back to the same door he let me in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Count on it,” he promises.
I unlock my car door, climb in, and take one last breath of cold December air before shutting the door.
“I am insomuch trouble,” I whisper to no one but my own foolishly happy heart.
Soft light filters through my curtains the next morning. The first hints of another winter storm gently tapping against the windows in delicate spirals. I’m warm under my blankets, sore in the best way, and smiling like someone who has no intention of hiding her happiness.
Which is dangerous, because I live with Mom and Evie
Mom can sniff out a secret before the coffee finishes brewing. And Evie has been as relentless as ever now that shethinksshe knows that something is up with me and Hayes.
I roll out of bed, tug on a pair of leggings and my favorite, well-worn Dockside t-shirt, then tiptoe down the hall, hoping—praying—my sister is still asleep.
No such luck.
She’s perched on a barstool at the kitchen island with her mug raised like a judge ready to rule on my fate. “Well, well, well,” she drawls, eyes glittering with mischief. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“I came home before midnight,” I defend, weakly.
She snorts. “Honey, you came home after midnight. And you were glowing. Radiating. Positively luminescent. If Hallmark tested you, you’d be ninety-nine percent made-for-TV romance right now. No. Scratch that. You’d probably be more like a Lifetime movie or Skin A Max.”
My cheeks burn. “Evie?—”
She clutches her chest dramatically. “Oh my God. He rearranged your spine, didn’t he?”
I nearly choke. “Evie!”
Mom walks in just in time to hear that and promptly turns the color of a ripe tomato. “Evie Lynn!”
My sister just grins around her coffee mug. “What? She’s a grown woman. And clearly a very satisfied one.”
“That does not mean I want to hear about it!” Mom replies.
“Nor does it mean that I’m going to confirm or deny any of it,” I add.
“Wait. I take that back. I need to knowonething. It’s Hayes, isn’t it?” Mom asks, filling her own cup of coffee while watching me very carefully.
