Page 25 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

The challenge hung in the air, crackling between them, and if Emma hadn’t mumbled something in her sleep, that moment on the couch might have gone in a very different direction.

Instead, Robyn let the feeling pass, saving it for later, when all bets would be off.

They turned back to their books and silence settled around them, and suddenly Robyn was hyperaware of everything. The soft glow of the lamp. The warmth of the couch. The fact that she’d been there for over an hour, and it still felt like she’d only just arrived.

She looked up, and Tyler’s eyes held hers. “It’s still relatively early,” he said. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

Robyn’s heart gave a small, stupid flip. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’d like that.”

It didn’t take long to land on a romantic comedy they’d both seen before. Something familiar and low stakes.

Tyler pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and shook it out. “Come here.”

Robyn hesitated for half a second.

Then she shifted closer.

Tyler stretched out along the sectional and guided her with an easy hand at her waist until she was tucked in front of him, a perfect fit. His arm slid beneath her head, his forearm warm against her shoulder, and she settled back until her spine pressed into his chest.

Robyn stared at the TV screen as the opening credits rolled, but she couldn’t focus. Not with Tyler’s hand resting at her waist, not with his breath occasionally stirring the hair near her temple, not with the gentle, steady rise and fall of his chest behind her.

She felt like a teenager again, curled up on a couch with her crush, hyper-aware of every inch of space between them and every inch of contact that wasn’t space at all. When at any moment, one of them might make a move… and at any moment, an adult might come downstairs and ruin everything.

Tyler’s arm was heavy and warm around her, and every time he shifted, his hand brushed her waist like it belonged there.

On screen, the heroine made a dramatic decision that would absolutely backfire in twenty minutes.

Robyn scoffed. “She’s going to regret that.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Robyn tilted her chin, still facing the TV. “Nobody quits their job for a man they met on a train. That’s how you end up living in a renovated barn with no cell service.”

Tyler chuckled, the sound low in his chest. “A renovated barn could be nice.”

Robyn laughed, then realized his thumb was moving—slow, absentminded—tracing the seam of her leggings at her hip.

Her pulse tripped.

“Tyler,” she said, trying for warning and landing somewhere closer to breathy.

His hand stilled. “Yeah?”

Robyn turned her head just enough to see his face in the lamplight. His eyes were on her, steady and patient.

“Are we actually watching this movie?” she asked.

Tyler’s mouth curved. “We’re making a very sincere attempt.”

Robyn’s lips twitched. “Mm-hmm.”

His gaze flicked to her mouth. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

The question was so quiet, so careful, that it made something soft and bright bloom in her chest.

Robyn swallowed. “No.”

Tyler’s exhale was slow. “Okay.”