Holy mother of pearl.
I’d actually kissed him.
Without warning, without permission, like some kind of overeager teenager who’d never learned about personal boundaries.
Theo’s eyes were wide with shock.
“I’m sorry. God. I’m so sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, but I am. Does that make sense? Jesus, I’m babbling. I have to go. Now. Shit.”
I turned and ran.
Actually ran down his front walkway, across his lawn, and straight to my car like some kind of coward who kisses cute librarians and then flees the scene. I threw myself into thedriver’s seat, slammed the door, and let my head fall back against the headrest.
My mind reeled.
He’d said yes!
But then I kissed him.
He hadn’t pulled away.
He hadn’t exactly kissed me back, but he was caught off guard. Hell, so was I—and I was the kisser, not the kissee. I couldn’t blame him for being momentarily frozen in time and space.
Wow, I sounded all theological and shit, if only in my mind. Theological? Theologic? Those were words, right? They started with “theo” so they must be okay.
I chuckled to myself. Why did I feel so damned giddy?
And why had his eyes gone wide with surprise instead of disgust or anger when my ragged-ass lips pressed to his baby’s-butt-soft skin?
My heart argued back fiercely.
Therehadbeen something in the way he’d looked at me, hadn’t there? Some spark of interest that went beyond neighborly politeness? The way he’d stammered when we first met, how his cheeks had flushed when I’d caught him staring at my chest in the library.
Maybe he’d been giving off signals all along and I’d been too thick to catch them. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d completely missed obvious cues from someone. Hell, it probably wouldn’t even be the tenth time.
Either way, I was elated.
That’s when it hit me.
I hadn’t gotten his number.
Or arranged a day and time.
Or place.
I’d given him a whisk, asked him to dinner, he’d said yes, I’d kissed him, and then I’d run away.
This was a new level of stupid, even for me.
I groaned and banged my head against the steering wheel, then quickly hoped it hadn’t left a mark because—there was no way around it—I had to go back. I had to face whatever expression was on Theo’s face and somehow salvage this disaster.
I forced myself to stop spiraling and climbed out of the car. The walk back to his front porch felt like the longest walk in human history. Even more so because Theo was still standing in the doorway.
He hadn’t gone inside. He hadn’t locked the door.
He was just standing there, watching me approach with an expression I couldn’t quite read. As I got closer, I realized his fingers were pressed to his lips, like he was still feeling the kiss.
And he was smirking. Actually smirking.
