Before I could say anything, his sister intercepted. “I’m riding with y’all.”
Cornbread bounded between us, nearly knocking me over. Kellan steadied me, his chest pressed against my back. His touch felt different now. Everything felt different.
“We should head to the house,” his mom called out.
No, no, no. I needed five minutes alone with him to explain. Maybe fifteen to clean up the mess when his head exploded. But Kellan was already guiding me toward my truck, his family following behind us, and all I could think about was that kiss. How right it had felt and how much trouble I was in.
I worked to regulate my breathing. It was fine. I’d just corner Kellan at his parents’ house. Although if I dragged him back to his old bedroom, they’d probably think we were trying to squeeze in a welcome-home quickie, and then I’d never be able to face his parents again, even if the truth somehow ever came out. Maybe I could get him outside with the dog…
Sadie scrambled into the front seat with me, while Kellan and Cornbread took up the back. She kept up a running commentary on the drive across town, updating him on all the latest gossip. Kellan cuddled his dog and listened, but his eyes periodically found mine in the rearview, and I’d have sworn there was heat in them. But that made absolutely no sense. Because despite the snowball of a lie I’d caught us both in, that wasn’t how we were together.
The ghost of that kiss seemed to whisper liar in my ear as I drove.
I could still feel the tingle where his tongue had swept across my bottom lip and the press of his arm against my back as he’d hauled me closer to him.
No. Stop it. This isn’t helping.
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as my traitorous mind kept replaying the moment. The way his chest had felt against mine. How he’d made that small sound in the back of his throat. The heat that had pooled in my stomach when he’d taken control of the kiss.
“Turn left here.” Sadie’s voice jerked me back to reality.
“I know where your parents live.” My voice came out sharper than intended.
Kellan’s low chuckle from the backseat sent another wave of warmth through me. I caught his eye in the rearview again, and my breath hitched. There was something different in the way he looked at me now. Or maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there because I couldn’t stop thinking about how his fingers had threaded through my hair, how his body had curved around mine like we were made to fit together.
But we weren’t. We were friends. Business partners. This whole engagement thing was just a massive misunderstanding that I needed to clear up before it got even more out of hand.
Even if my lips still tingled from his kiss.
Even if my skin burned everywhere he’d touched me.
Even if, for just a moment when he’d kissed me back, I’d forgotten it wasn’t real.
The scent of pot roast and fresh-baked rolls hit me the moment we walked through the door into the kitchen that had been as much a part of my childhood as my own home. Mrs. Fox had clearly been cooking for days. Every surface in the room groaned under the weight of casseroles, pies, and dishes I couldn’t even name.
“Sit, sit.” She shooed us toward the dining room table. “You must be starving.”
Kellan’s hand settled on the small of my back as he guided me to a chair. “Mom, we’ve got the cookout at the MacAvoys’ tonight.”
She waved that off and began loading plates. “That’s hours away. You need to eat now.”
I knew his mom was on some kind of mission to make up for all the home-cooked meals he’d missed over the past year. She did this every time he came home from deployment. But I had to talk to him.
I grabbed Kellan’s wrist. “Can we?—”
“Who wants sweet tea?” Sadie breezed past with a pitcher.
Kellan brightened. “Oh, hell yeah. I haven’t had good tea in a year.” He reached out with an empty glass.
Fresh guilt pricked, but I didn’t waver. “Actually, Kellan and I need to?—”
“Did you hear about the Hendersons’ youngest?” His aunt cut in from across the table. “Got herself arrested last week.”
My fingers tightened on his arm. “Kitchen. Now.”
But he was already being drawn into the conversation, dropping into a chair and reaching for a dinner roll. “What happened?”
I slumped in my chair as platters made their way around the table. Every time I opened my mouth to suggest we step out, someone appeared with more food or another story or another question about the wedding I hadn’t actually planned because there wasn’t actually going to be one.
