“Sure. I’ll add you.”
“Hey, Riley, we’re okay, right?”
“Of course. Always.”
“Okay,” she said again, her heart squeezing like it had a band tied around it, tightening by tiny increments.
She could tell when her brother was lying, too.
Chapter 12
When the knock came at her half-glass back door that night, Rachel jumped even after the five-minute-warning text had told her to expect it. Her throat tightened, and her palms were so damp that she’d never be able to turn the doorknob. Near the stove, she wiped her hands on a paper towel and tossed it into the garbage can.
“Coming,” she said too softly for him to hear outside.
She couldn’t allow herself to think about events from less than twenty-four hours before, when this particular guest had visited. Things that could never happen again, no matter how many locations in her body warmed at the memory of it. She conjured her brother’s face to tamp down her hormones and brushed her fingers down the front of her baggy sweatpants. If her whole outfit, including a top that was closer to a dress and an oversize zipper sweatshirt, didn’t help him to forget about the night before, she didn’t know what would.
The tap came a second time, this one on the glass, just as she reached the entry. She slid the curtain aside though she already knew who to expect and twisted the lock. Mick pushed the door open, slid inside and closed it behind him.
“Hey,” he said, stomping his boots on the mat.
Rachel took an automatic step back. Though Mick looked away as he shoved off his hood and shook snowflakes from his messy hair, his upper lip twitched. He clearly recognized that he made her uncomfortable. After that kiss last night, that had blown her socks off—and nearly everything else—she almost resented that she didn’t do the same thing for him. Not that she should care. Especially if she planned to follow the rules they’d set. And she did.
“It smells great in here, but we really have to stop meeting like this.”
His chuckle sent a pleasant, though unwelcome, tremor through her, but the irony of his words settled like a rock in her gut. “You know that in the dark is the onlyway wecanmeet. At least, if we don’t want anyone to know about it.”
“That’ll be even tougher after daylight savings time starts Sunday.” He bent to remove his boots.
“You think there’ll be more reasons for us to compare notes?” She was surprised by both his suggestion and by the flip in her tummy at the prospect of his continued visits. If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to him being around.
“There might be,” he said. “And if that’s the case, it’ll probably be the girls’ bedtime before it even gets dark.”
Rachel had turned away to stir the spaghetti sauce, but at his mention of her daughters’ evening schedule, she whirled back to face him. Sauce from the wooden spoon still in her hand landed with a splat on the floor. They both stared at the red sunburst on the yellowed tile before Rachel lunged for a paper towel and started wiping up the mess.
“Sorry about that.”
“No big deal.” She waved off his apology with the messy cloth as she stood.
Mick appeared to be holding back a smile. He was joking with her, probably because she’d invited him to join thegirls and herfor dinner when he’d suggested they should meet that night.
“Guess the time change will make that tougher for any ‘tea sessions.’”
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” she said.
They would have to. She didn’t know what Mick thought about it, but she appreciated having those two pint-sized chaperones around them to remind her to keep her hands to herself.
“Uh, anyway, you texted me about meeting, so…”
Mick slid out of his coat and draped it over his arm. He wore jeans that fit his strong legs better than they should have and that same soft-looking flannel shirt he’d worn the night they’d met. Hadn’t he gotten the memo about trying not to look good?
“You want to know what I found? Besides an excuse to get invited to dinner?”
“Yeah. Besides that.”
She rolled her eyes at his joke, but her chest still tightened. Had he found something that could confirm her suspicions that someone had set up Riley? After the things her own brother had said—and didn’t say—earlier, she doubted anything Mick had learned would surprise her.
“Well? Are you going to tell me?” She tried to appear nonchalant, stirring the sauce again at first. After a few seconds, she set her utensil in the spoon rest and turned back to him, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms.
