Heat floods my veins. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
The gossip page continues to explode. The church ladies are probably already drafting invitations for our wedding.
But standing here under the fading summer sky, with Levi’s hand warm against my skin and the echo of that kiss still humming through me—the fake part feels like the least believable thing of all.
And that’s what scares me most.
Because if that kiss was real—then we’re not just playing with fire anymore.
We’re standing in it.
Chapter 5
Sadie
If the church ladies wanted spectacle, they got it.
The annual Spring Firefighters & Foam Charity Car Wash is chaos before it even starts. Folding tables sag under trays of lemon bars. Hand-painted signs wobble in the breeze. Children run in sticky circles around orange traffic cones. Mrs. Dottie Henderson stands front and center like a five-foot general directing battle.
And Levi Kane is shirtless.
I stop mid-step in the church parking lot and forget how to function. My lips are still tingling from our KissCam performance yesterday and now this.
He’s leaning against Engine 3, a sponge in one hand, sunlight cutting across his shoulders like it was designed for him specifically. Water slicks down his chest. His turnout pants sit low on his hips. The muscles in his arms flex as he wrings out the sponge.
The whistle from somewhere near the bake sale booth is not subtle.
“Lord have mercy,” Mrs. Dottie breathes beside me. “That boy is raising money just by breathing.”
I swallow.
“He’s aware of that,” I mutter.
As if summoned by my internal crisis, Levi glances up and spots me. His mouth curves into a smirk. Slow. Dangerous.
He pushes off the engine and strolls toward me like this isn’t public torture.
“You’re late, Hotshot.”
“I’m supervising,” I reply smoothly. “Someone has to maintain professionalism.”
His gaze drags down my sundress. Then back up.
“Professional,” he repeats, low.
Heat flares under my skin. “You’re supposed to be washing cars.”
“I am.”
“You’re posing.”
He leans closer, voice dropping so only I can hear. “You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
His brow lifts.
