Page 53 of The Right Kind of Wrong

And that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all for Monroe to be attracted to the first friend she’d made since coming home.

But here she was, wondering what else might cause that look to arrive on Blake’s gorgeous face.

She let out a steadying breath that also, coincidentally, did not help. “You, um . . .” She blinked. Why was it so hard to find her words? “You have a little piece of chocolate. Right there.” She pointed to Blake’s cheek, just to the side of her plush, still-wet lips.

She picked up a napkin and handed it to Blake. Even though Blake reached out and took the napkin from her, she still decided the best way to get said piece of chocolate was to poke her tongue out and lick it off gently, sighing again with gratification when the chocolate hit her tongue.

If there was ever a time for Monroe to say the phrase “my heavens” and honest to god mean it, it would have been this moment.

Still, she kept her mouth shut, afraid of what would come out. Probably some kind of strangled sound.

Even in the air-conditioning, she could feel little beads of sweat forming across her skin. Blake didn’t seem to notice the war raging inside of Monroe, still coming down off the high of the muffin that should probably have come with a parental advisory sticker, lest it put some other poor, unsuspecting soul in this position.

Finally, Blake blinked, opening her eyes fully and coming back to the present. Her cheeks were still flushed, maybe a little pinker now. “Saying thank you doesn’t really feel appropriate, but I really needed that. I was up late studying and didn’t have time to grab breakfast this morning. You’re truly a lifesaver, Monroe.”

All Monroe could do was flex her hands atop the counter, willing her mind to get with the program and start making sense again. Finally, she found words. Maybe not good words, but she’d take what she could get. “Y’r ‘lcome,” was what it sounded like.

So she found Blake attractive. Big deal, she told herself.

Which was easier said than done, though, because Blake looked at her again, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Do you and Maisie have plans for the Fourth of July this weekend?”

Monroe blinked. What now? Her mind sifted through information, trying to make sense of whatever Blake was saying. Finally, she landed on, “Right. The fireworks. Um . . . I was going to take Maisie out to the high school at some point so that we could watch them. They do a whole festival, too, right?”

This town loved a festival. The Wild West Fest was only the kickoff for, what Monroe had learned, was a whole jam-packed summer of outdoor events that ran all the way through to the fall. Hell, there were even ones happening in the winter, which featured holiday light shows and whatever else this town could dream up in its obsession with celebrating traditions.

And sure, Monroe had considered inviting Blake to go with them, but she was already showing up at Blake’s workplace every single day. That in itself had given her pause on acting even needier when it came to Blake’s time and attention.

Blake nodded, giving Monroe a strange look, like she could see that Monroe was out of sorts. “Yeah. I was wondering if you and Maisie wanted to go. All of us together, I mean. I have the truck, which is a great place to watch fireworks from.”

“Strength in numbers?” Monroe teased, though she immediately regretted her words when Blake’s face fell.

Blake busied her hands with the box, straightening the sides so the lid could close. “No, I mean . . . I just thought that Maisie would enjoy it. A lot of the girls were talking about the fireworks in class last night, and she seemed pretty excited, too.”

Monroe reached her hand across the counter and wrapped her fingers lightly around Blake’s wrist. She didn’t want to be one of the people that made Blake doubt herself. “That sounds great, actually. Maybe we can head over in the early evening tomorrow?”

Blake’s lips twitched, and with her free hand, she soothed her long fingers against her scalp. Monroe wondered if it was working. “It’s really not a big deal, Monroe. You’re allowed to have your own life. We’ve seen one another every day this week, and we have plans for next weekend. I promise that I’m not trying to monopolize all of your time.”

“I like hanging out with you,” Monroe said quickly, even though she didn’t know how good it was for her sanity to blurt things like that out. But the truth was, she felt better when Blake was around. More capable. More confident in her decisions.

Something about Blake steadied her, and even though she had become acutely aware of her attraction, she wasn’t going to let it stop her from moving their friendship forward. Especially as it became clear that it was something that Blake wanted, too.

When Blake didn’t respond, Monroe squeezed her wrist, pulling her attention away from the top of the pastry box. “So, tomorrow? We’ll need to drive separately since Maisie can’t sit in the front of the truck, but we can leave our houses at the same time. Sound good? I really won’t take no for an answer.”

Finally, Blake met her stare, a small smile playing at her lips. “Well, I don’t want you to have to keep begging me.”

The words, along with their accompanying smile, fluttered through Monroe’s stomach. “Yeah,” she agreed, managing a grin that she hoped Blake wouldn’t look at too closely. “That would be the worst.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Dammit,” Blake hissed under her breath. The cold spray of water splashed back on her, and she threw the hose down.

It had seemed like a good idea to wash out her truck and clean the interior, given that later tonight they’d all be crawling into the truck bed to watch the fireworks.

Now, she wasn’t so sure. She’d spent all morning catching up on coursework, and she’d just finally finished everything due at the end of this weekend a little while ago.

Once the thought had sprung into her mind, she’d grabbed a bucket and run outside, playing her least favorite game—beat the clock.

Regardless of the state of her truck—which would be clean, dammit—at least she had a ton of blankets. When Noah had kicked her out, she’d taken all of the soft, ridiculously expensive throws that had littered their home in Dominion Ranch.