This is even better than deep-fried s’mores. Better than Krispy Kreme burgers. Better than …
It suddenly hit him—it was Ceci Rivers he was kissing.
He took his lips from hers but didn’t pull away; his body was still sinking into her softness.
“This wasn’t part of the agreement, was it?” she asked.
“No,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t.”
“Well, while we’re violating the agreement … I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow?”
He frowned.
Is she asking me out? On a real date?
“Tomorrow?”
“I might need a wingman when I go to my father’s.”
He looked into her eyes. They were glassy.
She’d drunk a lot of bourbon.
His gaze drifted to her lips.
She must have seen where he was looking because she pulled him in. And this time, the kiss was so deep, it wasn’t just his lips but his entire body that locked on hers. He was about to slip his hand under her blouse but quickly stopped and pulled back. He could see where this was going, and she was drunk. There were rules about this kind of thing. And he’d never been one to break them.
Besides, if she were sober, none of this would be happening. And that’s because none of it should be happening. It’s a mistake we’ll both regret. I already regret it.
He pulled away completely and took hold of her hand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
She stumbled, and he put his arm around her to help hold her upright and guide her.
“Home?” she asked. “I don’t want to go home. We’re in Texas, aren’t we?”
“Yes. I meant, back to your hotel.”
“Oh,” she said. “Okay, then.”
Her tone was different now. She sounded … defeated?
No, he heard his brain telling him emphatically. As though, if it spoke with enough force and conviction, he could make it so.
Ceci Rivers defeated? No. Absolutely. Not.
He found himself wanting that snarky, cheeky, combative voice back. Even if she used it to insult him.
True, that voice often irked him. Even angered him.
But this one hurt. And he couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Twenty
Clarke
Ican still do it. Until that door opens, I still have a chance. I can run back down the path, jump in my car, and make my escape.
But he stood, frozen like the fake icicles hanging from the eaves of the strange house. Strange because it seemed out of place amidst the miles of acres surrounding it. The property was just outside Austin and looked like a modern version of an old manor house one would find in England.
