My heart drums in my chest.
“Adam.”
“Hmm?”
“When I’m with someone—covertly or otherwise—I’m theirs. And they’re mine.” I can’t seem to take a full breath. “You’re m—”
I don’t get to finish staking my claim. Adam hooks his thick arm around my back, pulling me up and against him. His kiss is hurried but thorough. His mouth marks more territory than my words were ever going to.
He pulls away just enough to speak. “You don’t get to say it first,” he murmurs, pressing another quick kiss to my lips. “I want to say it.”Kiss. “I’m yours, Stevie.”Kiss. “You’re mine.”Kiss. “Got it?”
I fight a schoolgirl giggle. “Got it.” I don’t mind the bossy version of Adam under these circumstances.
I’m not sure how long I’m lost in him—completely detached from reality, no sense of time or space—when my front doorknob turns.
I push Adam away like I’m launching a cruise ship, wiping my mouth on my arm and scrambling to the opposite corner ofthe couch. Adam does the same, running his big hands through his hair and clearing his throat.
Marlow comes through the door. “Stevie?” She takes in the second occupant of my couch, and her mouth pulls into a wide, obnoxious grin. “Adam?”
I’m rethinking my open-door, no-knock policy. My friends and I have known each other for so long thatmi casa es su casais just how we work. We don’t have anything to hide from each other. No secrets. Until now. But if I suddenly start locking out my friends, they’ll know I’m up to something.
“What are you two doing at ten o’clock at night, with the mood lighting?” Marlow teases, probably hearing theca-ching!of prize money hitting her bank account.
And the beard burn,I don’t add. I rub my lips together, praying that they aren’t glowing red from Adam’s kisses. My gaze darts to his mouth. His lips are nice and supple from my peach lip gloss.
I roll my eyes like one of my students. “It’s not mood lighting. Bright light still hurts my head. You know, since the concussion.” This is mostly true.
Marlow plops on the middle cushion of the couch, wedging herself between Adam and me. “Oh, that’s right.” She winces. “Sorry.” She kicks her feet onto the coffee table, and I don’t miss Adam’s amused smile as Marlow makes herself comfortable. She frowns. “Is it still pretty bad?”
I take pain medication like it’s trendy, and my head still throbs by the end of the day, but who has time to wait out a concussion? I shrug. “Eh.”
“There are no awards for being the toughest girl on the playground anymore, Stevie.” Marlow puts a soft hand on my arm. Her voice lowers. “Your brothers aren’t watching.”
The stubborn braids are about to sprout on my head. I know she’s saying this out of love, but this isn’t about being tough. “I know.”
“I know you know.” She smiles. “So ... Whatareyou guys doing together so late at night?”
The insinuation in her voice makes me want to whack her face with a throw pillow—out of love, of course.
Adam saves her. “We’re going over photos on trail cameras I’ve installed in the preserve,” he says, gesturing to the open computer. He’s all business now.
“Oh.” Marlow deflates. “That makes sense.”
Who knew that honesty would rescue us? Partial honesty, anyway—that wasn’t all we were doing.
“Well ...” Marlow loops her arm through mine. “I have some good news. We found someone for you. You have another date tomorrow night—”
I interrupt her, grumbling a string of unintelligible words and veiled threats. Adam’s low chuckle at my reaction is full of relief.
Marlow cuts me off. “Diana found this guy. You trust her. She has good taste—”
“She’s obsessed with Tom Selleck,” I remind her.
Marlow ignores me. “His name is Jake. He’s meeting you at the diner tomorrow night at six-thirty.”
My gaze darts to Adam. He’s fully focused on me, waiting for my response. He’s socute. Marlow needs to leave so I can squeeze him. His cuteness—combined with his quiet steadiness—fortifies me. No matter what happens tomorrow night, Adam will be there at the end of it.
This can go two ways: I can whine and complain, or I can sit across from a random guy, eat dinner, never see him again, and win this bet.
