Flic swipes up her drink and changes the subject. “Anyway, can I just say, you look a lot less in crisis and a lot more…” She trails off like she’s searching for the right word. “I can’t evendescribe it. You look… relaxed?” She shakes her head like that wasn’t quite what she wanted to say.
I roll my eyes, grabbing my coffee, but I can’t stop my fingers drifting to my lips. How is it possible they’re still tingling after our kiss this morning? “Relaxed? You make it sound like I’ve been walking around looking?—”
“Like you want to kill someone?” she cuts in, her face surprisingly serious. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I choke out a laugh, causing a splash of coffee to land on my bare thighs. “I have not.”
“You have. Very I’ll-stab-you-with-a-pitchfork-if-you-look-at-me-wrong. But today…” She pauses, tilting her head as she studies me again. “You’re almost… glowing.”
I snort. “Glowing? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious! If Dylan Sullivan’s kiss can do this, think what?—”
“Flic!” I shout, covering my face with my hands but laughing too. “I’m begging you to stop talking.”
“Why?”
When I look up, she’s grinning wickedly.
“Admit it,” she says. “You’ve got the hots for Dylan.”
“What are we, twelve?”
Flic narrows her eyes, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh my God, you do, don’t you?”
“I hate you,” is all the reply I give, but the flush creeping up my face betrays me. The truth is, I do have a crush on Dylan. Who wouldn’t? The man is infuriatingly sexy, and when he kisses me, it’s like the rest of the world stops existing. But I’m not about to dive in headfirst. I’ve done that before and have the failed marriage to prove it.
Underneath the electricity between us is still a man who hasn’t asked me to stay. Still hasn’t said a single word about the future. A man who hasn’t proven he’s reliable. A man I don’tknow if I can trust. And as of next week, I’m out of time. Back to square one. Without any other ranch work going—despite what I told Dylan—I’ve got one option left. I have to move into my parents’ house with Madison, where everything feels tight and small and suffocating. Fuck.
So what if I want him? Wantthis? That’s not enough. Wanting something doesn’t make it real. Doesn’t make it sustainable. Especially not with a man who can’t talk about tomorrow.
“Mm-hmm. Sure you do,” Flic says, picking up her coffee and taking a smug sip. “But more importantly, does Dylan know?”
“Know what?” I ask.
“That he’s turned you into a human being again. All… kiss-tinted and relaxed.”
“Please stop talking,” I beg, but Flic just laughs harder, clearly having the time of her life at my expense.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she says breezily.
“For what?”
“For being your best splinter-removing friend.”
“Best friends don’t tell other best friends they look like they want to murder people,” I mutter, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
“Just so you know—if you two start banging, spare me the details.”
“Please stop saying ‘banging.’ Why are we friends?”
“Because I’m delightful,” Flic replies. “And because no one else would dare pull a splinter out of your back while simultaneously giving you a pep talk about your love life.”
She’s got me there.
“So what now?” Flic asks. She peeks at me over the edge of her cup, taking a long sip and purposefully leaving a mustache of foam on her upper lip to make me laugh.
“Now I go back to Oakwood Ranch and pretend I didn’t lie awake all night thinking about one kiss,” I reply.
