“Where are y’all – and I’m telling you now, if you are doing the nasty in the bedroom then… oh hey!” Gina exclaimed in delight, walking around the corner happily. “I saw the Porsche and knew Nettie was home,” Gina continued, oblivious. “Girl, you missed a doozy of a movie. There were intestines everywhere, and in this one scene, this guy shoved what might have been a fence pole or a javelin into—um, why are you both glaring at me?”
Nettie’s breath caught, her embarrassment clawing its way up her throat. Glaring? If that was what Gina thought this look was, then heaven help her if she ever saw Nettie truly furious. Right now, Nettie was somewhere between mortified, dizzy, and ready to melt straight through the hardwood floor.
“Sup Stitches…” Shannon’s voice carried before she appeared, skidding around the corner with the grace of a freight train, nearly barreling into Gina.
The two of them stumbled awkwardly, one glaring, one grinning, before they both went oddly silent.
Tate shifted beside Nettie, his warmth grounding her, and she found herself glancing up at him. Just one look, a silentexchange that said everything they couldn’t possibly voice right now.
Shannon’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh – you a-and the gargoyle were about to…”
“No,” Nettie blurted, her voice strangled with nerves.
“Yes,” Tate countered, smooth and unbothered. “So get out.”
Nettie blinked, startled by his bluntness, though a tiny part of her wanted to laugh. Only Tate could sound that calm while standing at the epicenter of her complete humiliation.
“You two were…” Gina whispered now, her eyes lighting up with dawning realization. She swung a finger back and forth between them like she was conducting an orchestra, her grin spreading wider with every second. “I interrupted you two starting something?”
“I think they were about toeh-eh-uh-uh,” Shannon hissed, her voice pitched high as she slapped her hand over her mouth like she couldn’t bear to say the words outright.
“If it was anyone but my brother, I’d say ‘I wanna see this’ – but trust me, I really don’t,” Gina muttered back, stage-whispering as though Tate and Nettie weren’t literally three feet away. “I cannot even imagine his ‘O’ face…”
“Or hers,” Shannon breathed, staring at Nettie with wide, owlish eyes. Her gaze held all the disbelief of someone spotting a unicorn in their backyard. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on?”
“You’re not alone – and I feel like a freeeeak,” Gina drawled the last word out dramatically, shaking her head. “Back away slowly and get anything that will function as an upchuck bucket.”
They began to retreat, step by awkward step, whispering and gawking as if they’d stumbled upon a scandal worthy of a primetime soap.
Nettie’s hand found the middle of Tate’s back, steadying herself as much as offering him support. She nearly bit her lip to keep from smiling—the absurdity of her two best friends backingout the front door like guilty toddlers sneaking out of a candy shop was too much.
“You watched a movie with intestines – but you can’t imagine Tate kissing me?” Nettie shot after them, incredulous as they kept backing away toward the front door. Tate was slowly advancing on them, almost menacingly.
The ivy planter dangling from the ceiling swayed violently as Tate slammed the door behind them, sending a gust of air rippling through the room before either woman could answer. Nettie braced herself. She expected him to turn on her, expected his legendary temper, the one she’d seen simmer in his eyes more than once.
Instead—he laughed.
A rich, deep sound rolled out of him, bending him over as if the humor had caught him entirely off guard. He cackled, shaking his head, one hand braced on his knee, the other running through his hair.
Nettie stared at him, stunned. Her lips parted.
“Oh my gosh, Gina’s face was priceless…”
“You’re not upset?” she asked cautiously, half afraid the laughter might mask something else.
“Nah,” he chuckled, straightening at last. His smile lingered as he reached for her, tugging her against him until she fit snugly in his arms. “It’s just kinda funny that fate sent her to interrupt us, so maybe it’s not time for that first kiss after all. I want it to be special for you, a moment we both look back on and treasure, and my sister interrupting us - that was not it.”
The tension that had been coiling tight inside Nettie loosened, unwinding all at once. She let out a nervous laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t storming off. He wasn’t regretting that almost-kiss. He wanted it—wanted her—but hewanted it right. That realization left her heart flipping like a gymnast mid-routine.
“Want to help me with the buckeyes?” she asked softly, clinging to something normal, something grounding.
“Let’s have that coffee, those buckeyes, and hang out for a bit, Sticks,” he said tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His touch lingered, feather-light, but it left fire in its wake. “I’d like for things to be comfortable between us.”
“As friends…” she murmured, though her voice wavered.
“Sure,” he chuckled, lowering his mouth just enough to brush a teasing kiss to the tip of her nose. “You can call it that.”
