I froze mid-breath.
Her grin spread slowly. “There it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “Everyone in town is talking about it.”
A slow, heavy pulse thudded behind my ribs. “Talking about what?”
“The kiss.”
My stomach dropped. “What kiss?”
She gave me a look that said,Don’t insult my intelligence. “The one at the supper club.”
I held still, like movement might somehow make the conversation vanish. “How do you know about that?”
Abby’s eyes widened like the question itself was adorable. “Honey. It was the kiss heard around Buttercup.”
I blinked. “Heard… around…”
“Yep.” She tossed a rag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s trending on local Facebook groups.”
I closed my eyes. “Of course it is.”
“Small towns,” she said cheerfully.
“Small towns,” I echoed.
Except it didn’t feel charming the way she meant. It didn’t feel quaint or cozy or harmless.
It felt like a stone settling low in my gut.
People were watching.
Talking.
Invested.
That wasn’t good.
Not when I wasn’t staying.
Not when she didn’t stay still.
Not when neither of us had any business being pulled into something bigger than a single impulsive kiss.
Abby leaned one elbow on the counter. “Relax, Carson. Around here, gossip blows in and out like lake wind. By tomorrow, they’ll be talking about whose ice fishing shanty fell through or whether Millie’s cat joined the Sunshine Breakfast Club.”
“Comforting.”
She winked. “Just don’t break her heart.”
My breath caught. “I’m not—”
But the words lodged in my throat.
Not because I meant to.
