She turns to face me, hazel eyes peering up at me.
“Last night was… and this morning…” What am I trying to say here?It was fun. No, it was incredible. We’re still just having fun, right?
Liv’s eyes grow wide, and a blush creeps up her neck. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“It was fun. Amazing even.” She smiles up at me from under her lashes.
“It was! I just… Once we get back to the house, we need to…” The briefest look of confusion crosses her face for a moment before it’s replaced with something more composed and collected. She pulls her fingers from my grip.
I reach for her again, but she tucks her hands into her pockets, so I do the same. It feels wrong, telling her to keep a safe distance so no one suspects anything, when all I want to do is touch her—to be near her.
It’s how it has to be, though. Secret touches, hidden moments.
This can’t be anything more than that.
“I totally understand. Don’t worry. The secret's still safe with me.” She zips her lips and throws away thekey. Her voice is steady and strong.
I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into me, running my nose along her neck. “I’m sorry. I hate this has to be a secret. I don’t want you to feel?—”
“This whole secret affair was my idea,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. A cute smile spread across her lips. “Stop overthinking.” She shoves me playfully.
“Then let me sneak in one more”—my lips play along her jaw—“kiss before we have to pretend I don’t want to devour you here on the spot.” And I would if I could, right here on this path. I’d lay her down and spread her wide to taste every bit of her sweetness.
My tongue tangles with hers, a dance we seem to have perfected over the last few days. I dig my fingers into her hair, pulling the messy bun free and tugging on the strands so her neck is mine. She gasps and grips my shirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers.
The moment is over all too soon when she pulls away from my arms.
“Alright, Romeo, come on. I need coffee.”
There are no more subtle brushes of skin, no more bumps of our hands as we walk. Liv keeps a safe distance, a little quieter than before. I chalk it up to making sure no one can misconstrue anything between us when we break through the tree line, the house in sight.
Viv is pouring her coffee when we enter through the doors. The great room is alive with people and the smells of breakfast. She turns and leans against the counter, watching us enter, a small smile playing across her face.
Ma comes out of the kitchen door carrying a hot plate of scrambled eggs, her ever-watchful eyes landing on me, holdingthe door open for Liv. Mae Huffman misses nothing. She squints slightly, the briefest raise of her eyebrows, then a tilt down of her chin as if working through some sort of puzzle.
Nothing to see here, Ma.
Liv makes her way to Viv, reaching up to the shelf for a mug. The two of them talk quietly at the counter. I grab the tray of eggs from Ma and place it in the designated spot on the counter.
“Thanks, hun. Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?” she asks, sweet as can be.This can’t be good.
“Morning, girls.” Ma leans toward Liv and Viv, who pause their conversation to say good morning in return. “Luke,” she brushes past me, holding the kitchen door open.
In the kitchen, she flips the dish rag from her shoulder and drops it to the counter, swiping at stray crumbs. I grab a peach from the fruit bowl. The juice dribbles down the side of my chin with my first bite.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks. The peach lodges in my throat, forcing a choked cough. My mother stops cleaning, turning her attention to me. Patiently, she waits for my coughing fit to subside, hip against the kitchen counter, canary-yellow glasses balancing on the tip of her nose.
I clear my throat, fist pounding against my chest.
“How do you mean?” I ask, grabbing a glass of water and washing the peach down.
“You know exactly what I mean, Lucas Huffman. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Weston. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take this much interest in the guests here.”
I can’t gauge her tone. She’s both accusing and curious. It’s disarming not knowing exactly where she’s coming from.
So, I do what any son would do—deflect.
“You’ve always told Josh and me to be more friendly and personable with the guests. I’m just doing what you asked.”
