A performance.
But the way she looked at me under that table?
The way she asked if this was still fake?
There was nothing pretend about the way my body answered.
And next time—if there is a next time—I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to walk away first.
Chapter 7
Sadie
Ishould’ve known something was going to go wrong the moment Mrs. Dottie handed me a clipboard and said, “Interns handle inventory.”
Inventory, apparently, means crawling around the back hallway of the church gymnasium with Levi Kane while folding tables threaten to topple and half the town screams about raffle baskets.
Spring Fundraising Season is a full-contact sport.
“Why am I counting tablecloths?” I mutter, balancing on my toes to reach the top shelf in the storage closet. “I have a degree.”
Behind me, Levi’s voice is dry. “Use it to count.”
I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a fitted black firehouse T-shirt. His jaw’s shadowed. His hair’s slightly damp like he showered too fast before showing up.
He looks like trouble.
He looks like mine.
“Careful, Lieutenant,” I say sweetly. “You sound bossy.”
“I am bossy.”
“That’s debatable.”
His mouth twitches.
The closet smells like dust and old wood polish. It’s narrow, shelves lining both sides, barely enough room for two people to stand without brushing shoulders.
Which we are.
Brushing shoulders.
I shift sideways to grab a box of plastic forks. My hip bumps his thigh. He doesn’t move.
“You’re in my way,” I say.
“You’re in my town.”
My pulse jumps. I twist toward him fully. “Excuse me?”
He leans closer, not quite touching. “You left.”
The words are quiet. Not angry. Just true.
Before I can respond, someone in the hall shouts for more raffle tickets. I grab a bundle from the shelf and turn to squeeze past him toward the door. The lights flicker. The door slams. Then—click.
We’re standing in total darkness.
