He led the way to the back patio where his grill stood, a housewarming gift from his brothers that had seen more use in the last year than he cared to admit.
“So how exactly do we ‘keep up’ this fake dating thing?” Amy asked, handing him the steaks as the grill heated. “I mean, we haven’t even kissed.”
Nash’s heart skipped a beat, then seemed to double its pace to make up for it. He grinned, carefully placing the steaks on the hot grill before closing the lid. “Well, I guess we have to fix that.”
Before he could overthink it, Nash stepped closer, gently took her face in his hands, and pressed his lips to hers in a light, softkiss. The contact was brief—barely more than a moment—but Nash felt it all the way to his bones. When he pulled back, Amy’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted in surprise.
“Okay,” she said softly, grinning.
“Now we’ve kissed,” he said, his voice huskier than he’d intended. “A real kiss.”
Amy nodded, then surprised him and leaned forward, kissing him again.
This time, there was nothing light or brief about it. Her hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck. Nash’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, years of wondering and waiting and what-ifs dissolving in the heat between them.
Nash lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feel of Amy in his arms, the softness of her lips, the quiet sound she made when he tangled one hand in her hair.
Eventually, Amy pulled back slightly, a breathless laugh escaping her. “The meat.”
“What?” Nash asked, still dazed.
“The steaks,” she clarified, with humor in her tone. “We should check them.”
“Right.” Nash reluctantly released her, turning to open the grill. The steaks were sizzling perfectly, not a bit overdone. “They’re fine.” He closed the lid again and turned back to Amy, unable to resist drawing her into his arms once more.
This time when he kissed her, it was slower, more deliberate, as if he was memorizing everything about this moment. Her hands rested against his chest, and Nash could swear she must feel his heart hammering beneath her fingers.
When they finally separated, Amy looked up at him with a small smile. “Hey, I think we got our practice in.”
Nash kept his arms around her, his gaze steady on hers. “So we’ve agreed this isrealdating, right?”
Her expression shifted, uncertainty in her eyes. “Nash, this whole thing is crazy. I don’t know why you’d want to start something with someone who isn’t even … real.”
“You are real.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek before sweeping down to steal another brief kiss. “And maybe that’s not your decision.”
She looked stunned for a moment; then her expression softened. She leaned up and kissed him again.
Nash felt himself getting lost in her, in the rightness of this connection that had somehow survived eight years of separation and secrets. He deepened the kiss.
She held tightly to him.
Eventually, Nash pulled back with a laugh. “Now we really have to check the meat.”
Amy smiled up at him, something warm and tender in her eyes that made his chest ache in the best possible way. “Okay. I think,” she said softly, “that I’m going to need a lot more practice at this dating thing.”
Nash grinned, feeling lighter than he had in years. “Good, then we’re agreed. We’ll real date and keep practicing our kissing.”
She giggled again.
He liked the sound of it more and more.
As he turned to check the steaks, Nash caught sight of movement at the edge of his property—a flash of something near the fence line that separated his yard from his neighbor’s. He squinted, trying to make out what he’d seen, but whatever it was had disappeared.
A chill ran down his spine, the moment of happiness dimming slightly. Were they being watched?
He didn’t mention it to Amy, not wanting to spoil their moment. But as they carried the steaks back inside, Nash couldn’t shake the feeling that their fragile bubble of normalcywas about to burst—and that when it did, they would need more than kisses to survive what was coming.
Back in the kitchen, Amy returned to her roasted vegetables and quinoa while Nash set the table, moving with the same easy comfort they’d established over the past two days. It felt natural, like they’d been doing this for years instead of hours.
