The kisses replay whether I invite them or not. The first was careful, like he was giving me a chance to stop it. The second was not careful or hesitant. It was a full-on kiss with a little tongueaction — deep, penetrating and urgent. I press my lips together, like that might stop the memory from resurfacing again. It doesn’t.
“Okay,” I say to myself adjusting my grip on the wheel. “We’re just having dinner.”
That’s it. Food and conversation. Normal human interaction that does not involve losing all sense of composure because a man knows how to drive a four-wheeler, cook breakfast and kiss amazingly well.
Totally normal.
I make the final turn onto his drive and slow the SUV, gravel crunching under the tires. And that’s when it hits me hard. I did not bring dessert. I sit there for a second, engine idling, staring straight ahead as the realization settles in like a personal betrayal.
“You had one job,” I whisper.
One simple task. Bring dessert. I consider turning around. Briefly. Very briefly. But the idea of backing out of his drive like some kind of emotionally unstable raccoon is worse than admitting I forgot.
I cut the engine and sit there another second, gripping the steering wheel.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “We’re owning it.”
I’ll try to appear confident about my forgetfulness and hopefully Troy is unbothered by it. Completely fine with the fact that I am showing up empty-handed to the first not-a-date dinner with the man I definitely kissed twice.
I step out of the SUV and smooth my hands over my jeans like that’s going to somehow reset my entire energy. It does not.
His place looks the same as it did earlier, but now it feels loaded and almost familiar. It's doesn't have the same effect as when I first arrived this morning. Things feel different. I feel different.
I take a breath and walk toward the door before I can overthink it again. Because if I stop now, I will absolutely talk myself into leaving. And I am not doing that. Not tonight.
I reach the porch and pause just long enough to arrange my hair and take a deep breath. Somehow, this makes me feel more prepared. I'm not sure what I'm worried about. Troy is not an axe murderer … I think. If he is, he must kiss his victims first.
I lift my hand and knock. It takes a moment, then the door opens.
Troy stands there with a kitchen towel folded over his broad shoulder — looking exactly like the hottest man you'd ever find in the woods.
“Well,” I say, because apparently humor is my coping mechanism now, “I have great news.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“And bad news?”
“I forgot dessert.”
I pause.
Then add, because I can’t help myself …
“But I did remember to show up.”
Chapter 16
Troy
Rainey forgot dessert. That’s the first thing she tells me. Not hello. Not anything normal. Just that — like it matters more than the fact that she showed up in the first place. I look at her for a second, taking it in. The slight tension in her shoulders. The way she’s trying to play it off like it’s nothing. The way she’s already bracing for my reaction.
I huff out a quiet laugh. Then I step forward and pull her into me before she can overthink it any further.
“Welcome,” I say, my hand settling at her back. “I’m glad you remembered to come.”
Rainey stills for half a second before she relaxes into the embrace. I let myself hold her a second longer than necessary before stepping back, keeping my hand at her side as I look down at her.
“You’re fine,” I add. “I don’t need dessert.”
