I rack the balls, and Harleigh lines up to break.
“Now, let’s get to the bottom of thismissed date and long-lost auntsaga before your ass loses her to a man who picks at horses’ feet for a living.”
She hits the cue ball with more force than you’d think her tiny five-foot-six frame could muster, sending the balls in all directions before four drop into some pockets.
“And don’t try to hustle a hustler,” she says.
Damn.
We play, and by the end of the game, I’ve somehow managed to win over two out of four Storm sisters.
“So, what’s your next move?” Charli asks as she sinks the eight ball in the left-corner pocket.
“What do you suggest?”
She cuts her eyes to Harleigh and grins.
“Uh-oh,” Cabe mutters.
“We might have an idea.”
Ilie here, staring at the ceiling long after Dixon’s taillights disappeared down the drive. My lips still tingle faintly from his kiss, but not in a way that makes me want more. Not in a way that makes my heart speed up or my skin catch fire. It’s just … there. Like when your truck battery’s dead and the motor barely clicks when you turn the ignition.
The date was nice, but it definitely didn’t get my motor running.
The food was delicious. The movie was a sweet romantic comedy with witty dialogue and a happy ending that had most of the theater sighing. It was exactly the kind of night sixteen-year-old Shelby Storm would have dreamed about—flowers upon arrival, a man opening doors, soft laughter shared over dessert.
But twenty-three-year-old Shelby?
She knows better.
When Dixon walked me to the door, I already felt the weight of what was coming. Not dread, just inevitability. He leaned in slow, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to. I didn’t. I needed to test the water. So, I let his lips brush mine.
And there was nothing.
No goose bumps.
No spark.
No sudden wanting.
It was just a kiss.
Sweet. Gentle. Chaste.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched my face, and something in him seemed to sink. He knew. Of course he did.
Dixon Fisher is many things, but he’s not stupid.
“I …” he started, then stopped.
“I had a really nice time,” I told him—because it was true. “You’re wonderful, Dixon.”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth tightening. “You don’t have to say it like you’re letting me down easy.”
Guilt coiled in my chest. “Hey, I do like you, Dixon Fisher. It’s just … you felt the same, right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you can’t make something be there if it isn’t,” he said, accepting it.
