“Sixteen.”
“What did you do?”
“Which part?”
Her eyes go wide. “There were multiple parts?”
“There was a sequence of events that started with a dare from Tanner, involved about two hundred bottle rockets and the Hendersons' stolen tractor, and ended in the slowest police chase in the history of Marble Falls.”
She's laughing properly now. The kind that takes over her whole face, crinkles the corners of her eyes, makes her forget fora minute that she's supposed to be keeping me at arm's length. I want to keep going. Think up every stupid thing I ever did in this town just to keep that look on her face.
“Tanner's idea,” I say. “Obviously. And he got off scot-free. Of course.”
“Of course,” she agrees, still smiling.
Her pen rolls off the counter. We both reach for it at the same time, and end up crouched on the same side of the island, faces level. Close enough that I can see every freckle across her nose, the way her eyes aren’t just blue but dark at the edges and lighter at the center, like they’re lit from within.
I have the pen. I hold it out for her.
She takes it.
Neither of us straightens up.
She smells so good. Sweet and fresh. I want to lean in. I want to know how her skin feels beneath my lips.
Without meaning to, my eyes wander across her. Down the column of her smooth throat as she swallows. To the swell of her breasts against her tight tank top.
Fuck. Her nipples are stiff and visible beneath the fabric. Her breathing is shallow and quick.
Mine isn't much better.
This is the point at which I’m supposed to stand up. To hand her the pen and walk away and go check the fence line and not look back.
Instead I watch her breasts rise and fall. Watch the color climb her throat, her cheeks. Watch her tongue touch her bottom lip in a way that she doesn’t mean as an invitation but that my body’s receiving as one anyway.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. Come back up.
Two things are true right now. I've never wanted anything the way I want to kiss this woman. And I absolutely cannot.
We straighten up together and I take one step back and shetakes one step back. We put the kitchen island between us and find separate things to look at with great focus, like two people who’ve both suddenly developed an intense interest in opposite corners of the same room.
The pen is still in her hand.
“I'll be back by dinner,” I say. My voice comes out like gravel.
She nods. “Okay.”
I put my hat on. Walk to the door. Put my hand on the frame.
I should just go.
“Sadie.”
She looks up. Still pink-cheeked, still not quite meeting my eyes.
“Thank you. For everything you're doing for Jonah,” I say. “I'm glad you're here.”
“Me too.”
