The barn door creaked open, and they jumped apart like they'd been electrocuted.
Thomas stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," they said in unison, not for the first time.
"We were just—" Riley started.
"Talking," Grant finished.
"Right. Talking." Thomas's smile was knowing, just like the last time he’d interrupted an almost moment. "Well, don't let me stop you. I just need to grab some rope from the back."
He disappeared into the depths of the barn, and Riley pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.
"That was close," she whispered.
"Too close."
"We need to be more careful."
"Agreed."
Thomas reappeared with the rope, gave them both a pointed look, and left without another word.
Riley waited until the door closed before bursting into nervous laughter. "Oh my god."
"He definitely thinks we're together."
"Everyone thinks we're together."
"That was the plan."
"I know, but—" Riley shook her head. "I feel like it’s getting really complicated."
"It's always been complicated."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Grant was quiet for a moment, then said, "Nothing. Forget it."
But Riley couldn't forget it. Couldn't forget the way he'd looked at her. Couldn't forget how easy it was to stand close to him, to fall back into old patterns, to pretend this was real.
"I should go," she said, even though she didn't want to.
"You just got here."
"I know, but I told my mom I'd help with some stuff she’s doing." A lie. A terrible, obvious lie.
Grant saw right through it. "Okay."
"But I'll load the tree first."
"I've got it. I'll drop it off later this afternoon."
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to." His voice was firm. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to see your mom. Make sure she knows I'm being attentive."
Riley's mouth curved into a reluctant smile. "You're really committed to this."
