Beside her, my sister Cordia snorts, leaning against the door frame with a knowing, dangerous smirk.
“Good morning to you too, Sunshine. And don’t growl at her. We hit traffic.” They drove separately, but always leave and arrive at the same time. I know this because Dove is always talking about how Cordia runs red lights, making Dove have to catch up after getting left behind.
Dove blushes, the color rising high on her cheekbones. “I’m sorry. It’s my car. It was making that awful noise again.”
“Your car?” I demand, the words snapping out too quickly. I hate that death trap she drives. I hate that she’s in it alone. “What kind of noise?”
“A grinding sound?” She bites her lip, and my gaze drops to her mouth instantly. “Like metal on metal. But, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” I step out onto the porch, closing the distance between us until I can smell her—vanilla and rain. The scent hits me like a drug. I tower over her, blocking out the sun, blocking out the rest of the world. “Give me your keys.”
Dove blinks, her hazel eyes widening. “What? You’ll get your suit dirty.”
“Not the only thing he wants to get dirty,” my sister unhelpfully mutters.
I shoot Cordia a glare, then return my attention to Dove. “I don’t care about the suit. If you think I’m letting you drive that death trap home, you’re out of your mind.”
The air between us turns electric. She stares up at me, her breath hitching, and for a second, I see it—the flash of awareness. The heat. She feels it too.
“You’re bossy today,” she whispers, but she’s reaching into her purse to grab her keys.
“I’m careful,” I correct, my eyes locking on hers.With you. Only with you.
“He’s acting like a caveman, that’s what he’s doing,” Cordia interjects, breezing past us into the house, though I catch the triumphant glint in her eye. “Stop undressing my best friend with your eyes and fix her car if you’re so worried, Shane.”
Dove gasps, her face turning crimson. “Cordia!”
“I wasn’t—” I start, a lie burning on my tongue. I absolutely was.
I step back to let Dove in, but I don’t move far enough. As she passes me, her bare arm brushes against the wool of my jacket. The contact is like lightning. A shock wave jolts through my system, tightening my chest. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to grab her hand and pull her back against the door and see if she tastes as sweet as she smells.
“You look beautiful, Dove,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. They hang heavy in the air, weighted with everything I can’t say.You look like mine. Forget the lamb, it’s you I want to devour.
She pauses on the threshold, looking back at me over her shoulder. The playfulness is gone, replaced by something fragile and terrified. “Thank you, Shane. You look nice. The tie suits you.”
Niceis something you say to a distant family member like your old Uncle Edgar, simply to be cordial.
But I could never be angry with her.
“It feels like a chokehold,” I mutter, holding her gaze.
“Maybe you tied it too tight.”
“Maybe.”Or maybe I’m just suffocating because you’re this close and I still have to pretend like I don’t want you.Though judging by my sister’s comments, I’m quickly realizing I’m not as good an actor as I want to believe I am.
I head out to her car, open the hood, peek around, but unfortunately, I’m not seeing what’s wrong. I’m not a huge ‘car guy’, but I know the basics. Still, not wanting her to get into a car accident, I will make her promise me to call an Uber or hitch a ride with Cordia after dinner. I’d rather tow her car to the shop and get it professionally fixed than have her sit behind the wheel.
Once back inside my parents’ house, I place a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the terrace. It’s a courtesy. A gentlemanly gesture. But the second my palm touches the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her dress, I know I’m in trouble. Her heat seeps into my skin, branding me.
She leans into my touch—just an inch, unconscious and instinctual.
My fingers flex, fighting the urge to grip her waist. I’m a drowning man, and she’s the only air in the room. And the worst part?
The doorbell rings again.
My stomach drops. The spell shatters.
“That’ll be Emily,” Cordia calls out from the other room, her voice flat.
