"I don't remember."
His laugh was rough and warm against her skin. "Good."
Riley pulled his face back to hers, kissing him harder, deeper. Grant's hands gripped her hips, and she was already reaching for the hem of his shirt when the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway made them both freeze.
"Your dad?" Riley asked, breathless.
Grant glanced at his watch. "He said an hour."
"It's been twenty minutes."
"I'm aware."
They stood there, both breathing hard, staring at each other.
"We have terrible timing," Riley said.
"The absolute worst."
The truck door slammed outside. Grant stepped back, running a hand through his hair, looking as frustrated as Riley felt.
"Tonight?" he asked.
"What about tonight?"
"Can I see you?"
Riley knew she should say no. Should create space. Should stop doing this thing where they couldn't keep their hands off each other.
"Yes," she heard herself say.
Grant's smile was slow and devastating. "Good."
Thomas appeared in the barn doorway, arms full of lumber. "Grant! Need a hand with—oh. Riley. Hi."
"Hi, Mr. Lawson."
Thomas's eyes gleamed with amusement as he took in their flushed faces, Grant's messed-up hair. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," they said in unison.
"Right. Of course not." Thomas set down the lumber. "Riley, you staying for lunch?"
"I should actually go. I have—things."
"Family things?" Grant asked, echoing her excuse from yesterday.
"Exactly. Family things."
Grant walked her to her car, neither of them speaking until they were out of Thomas's earshot.
"Tonight," Grant said again. "Seven?"
"Where?"
"I'll figure something out." He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "Somewhere we won't be interrupted."
Riley shivered despite the cold. "Okay."
