I forced myself to focus on eating, hoping the food would settle my nerves. The sooner we finished, the sooner we could escape the constant parade of well-wishers. Kellan seemed to have the same idea. He practically inhaled his meal, and I picked up my pace to match. Within minutes, we’d cleaned our plates, and he was signaling for the check.
“You in a hurry?” I asked.
“Just tired of sharing you with the whole town.” He winked, but something in his voice made my pulse jump. “Let’s go home.”
Home. Because he was going home with me.
Oh, not like that. But for half a second my brain went there. And damn it, now I was actually wondering what he looked like naked.
No, no, no. Stop.
I managed to get myself under control by the time we made it back to my truck. The drive home passed in comfortable silence. My mind kept drifting back to that dance, but I shoved those thoughts away. I had enough complications without adding more.
Cornbread bounded to the door as we walked in, his whole body wiggling with joy at seeing both of us. He’d been Kellan’s dog first, but this past year had cemented a bond between us. Now he bounced between us, unable to decide who deserved more attention.
“Outside, buddy?” Kellan opened the back door, and Cornbread streaked out to do a rapid patrol of the perimeter.
The autumn air carried a hint of winter as we stepped onto the back porch. The dog made his way to his favorite spot in the yard, while Kellan and I settled on the steps. Our shoulders brushed, and that same spark of awareness flickered through me.
“He’s gotten better about staying in the yard,” Kellan remarked.
“Yeah. Took some work, though. Remember how I told you about him chasing that rabbit through three yards?”
“You said you had to climb the Hendersons’ fence in your pajamas.”
“Not my finest moment.” I laughed at the memory. “Who knew he could leap over a four-foot fence if he wanted? But he hasn’t pulled that stunt again.”
Cornbread finished his business and bounded back, sprawling across our feet with a dramatic flop. Kellan scratched behind his ears, and the dog’s tail thumped against the wooden steps like a cheerful metronome. The tension from the dance melted away as told him more stories about Cornbread’s adventures. Little, everyday stories that painted a picture of the normal I knew Kellan desperately needed in the wake of deployment. I sure hadn’t given him much of that since he’d gotten off that bus.
The familiar comfort of sitting here with him, sharing stories about his dog, made me forget for a moment about all the complications. The easy conversation and shared laughter shifted some piece of me that had been off-kilter for a year back into place. I had other friends, but no one else shared this ready understanding without words. No one else was quite on the same wavelength.
Content, I leaned back on my hands. “I missed this. Having you here to talk to at the end of the day.”
“Me too. Video calls aren’t the same.”
“No, they’re not.” I turned to look at him. The moonlight silvered his profile, accenting that strong jaw dusted with stubble. Noting a small clump of what was probably dog hair caught in the scruff, I reached for his cheek. “You’ve got a little?—”
He turned toward me, and his eyes met mine, soft and warm in the darkness. My heart did that weird, unfamiliar flutter again, and before I could think better of it, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. The kiss was gentle, nothing like the passionate ambush when he’d gotten off the bus. Just the sweet brush of my mouth against his, an expression of... something I wasn’t ready to name.
Kellan sighed against my mouth, and reality crashed back in. What was I doing? There was no one here but us. No need to perform. No reason to kiss him at all except… except that I’d wanted to.
I jerked back and scrambled to my feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m headed to bed. Goodnight!”
I abandoned him on the porch with his very confused dog and fled inside. I didn’t stop until my bedroom door clicked shut behind me.
Only then did I press my burning face into my hands.
What the hell was wrong with me? This fake engagement was messing with my head. I needed to get it together before I ruined everything.
Nine
Kellan
I pulled up to the Stewart job site with Cornbread hanging his head out the passenger window. The house was a two-story Tudor, and I knew from Tate’s notes that the owners were having us change up the hardscape to create an outdoor entertainment space that nestled into a more natural landscape design than the formal boxwood garden that had been installed back in the eighties and seen far better days. The rumble of equipment mixed with shouts from the crew created my favorite organized chaos. A wave of comfort settled over me at the familiar sound.
Tate’s truck sat empty in the makeshift parking area. She’d slipped out before dawn, leaving only the scent of coffee and a hastily scrawled note about checking progress on multiple jobs. Diligence or cowardice? Maybe a bit of both. She’d managed to avoid me since that kiss last night and probably thought she could keep it up until dinner because I wasn’t on the schedule.
Tough luck, sweets.
