Hartley smiles, taking a sip of his Coke. He watches me over the bottle. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that makes my stomach swirl.
“What?” I ask, picking up a strawberry.
“Whatwhat?”
“What’s that look?” I ask.
He holds up a container of fluffy white dip. “Try this with your strawberry. Cathy makes it. I don’t know what’s in it, but it’s amazing.”
I do as instructed, and it is, as promised, fantastic. “Okay, Cathy can keep making this. Make sure she knows that.”
Hartley laughs, placing the bowl between us.
“Now, what’s that look about?” I ask. “Also, can I double dip, or does that gross you out?”
“I think we crossed that line years ago, darlin’.”
My gaze snaps to his because I know exactly what he’s talking about. Betsy Barn. A bottle of strawberry wine. Hartley’s mouth onevery single inchof my body.
His eyes are dark, the gold flecks hidden in the browns as he looks at me. They never leave mine. Not when goose bumpsripple across my skin. Not when the memory hits hard enough to make me shiver. And certainly not when my lips part to allow in a rush of cool air to help regulate my temperature.
He reaches up, brushing his thumb across the corner of my mouth.
The touch is barely there. And despite being in a public space filled with people, the act is as intimate as it gets. My pulse sputters as I lean into him before I can stop myself, caught in this strange space between the past and the present where one wrong move can ruin us both.
“You had some dip there,” he says, exhaling and ripping his eyes from mine.
I deflate, closing my eyes. I cametoo closeto forgetting this isn’t real.
“That was my fault,” he says, clearing his throat.
“No harm, no foul.” I scoot a little farther away from him, reaching for my Coke so I have something to do with my hands. “So, what are you doing tomorrow? Markie’s making me get my hair and nails done, which is totally unnecessary, I think.”
“Unnecessary or not, enjoy it. Markie’s your big sister. She probably wants to be a part of this … even if it’s not real.” He takes a couple of grapes from the basket. “Does she know that? Or does she think we’re actually doing this?”
“She knows the truth. Lolly explained the plan to Markie before she told us.”
He nods as if he’s processing that. “Well, I didn’t tell Gray the truth.”
“You could’ve.”
“Yeah, but we agreed to make it believable, and I don’t want to ruin my chances at the land by telling Gray something that he didn’t need to know.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “If that makes sense.”
It sure does. It means you’re doing this ultimately for the land, which I knew … and better be sure to remember.
“I have to run to Nashville tomorrow,” he says. “And then the wedding’s Thursday, and I thought we could leave from there and head to Kentucky. Sound good?”
It sounds so mechanical when he says it like that.First we do this, then that, then this other thing. I hate that it bothers me. But even more, I hate that this stopped feeling like a transaction for a moment.
“Sure,” I say.
“I put Bobby in charge for the weekend at the ranch, but I really need to be back by Sunday.”
“Of course. I get it. I put a vacation responder on my email and website yesterday so I could navigate this week. But I’m going to have to get back to work on Monday, too.”
He smiles at me. “We’ll set up an office somewhere in the house for you.”
“I’d like that.”
