Page 78 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Blake nodded, then grew uncertain. “You were actually checking me out the other day, right? Otherwise, should I be apologizing for what just happened?”

Because, again, she had no idea what she was doing! She’d never kissed a woman before. Much less pursued anyone. She was wildly out of her depth but hadn’t been able to stop herself in spite of how spectacularly her actions could have backfired.

Monroe’s laughter echoed through the car. “Oh my god, Blake. We kissed for literal minutes. You think I’d do that just to humor you?”

She blanched, resisting the urge to check the clock radio for the time. “Barely.” It couldn’t have been that long. It was a thirty-second kiss. Tops.

Monroe looked surprisingly delighted, her dimple popping out. “I’ve never actually slowed time for a woman before. That’s got to be some sort of accomplishment to add to my resume.”

“So . . . not bad?” Blake asked. As the rain finally started to slow, she could make out the other cars in the parking lot.

The conditions were growing driveable, at least, even if the fifteen minutes back to drop Monroe off would feel like torture depending on how the rest of this conversation went.

“Blake,” Monroe chastised her, running her hands through her hair, putting a few of the curly flyaways back in place.

Blake liked that Monroe looked a little disheveled, her lips still wet. Blake’s stomach fluttered when she wondered if Monroe could still taste her on them.

She let out a trembling breath, trying to focus. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. What was that?” Monroe asked, quickly adding, “Not that I minded it. Clearly.”

Monroe, with her soft, open stare, deserved an honest answer. At least, as honest of one as Blake could give at the moment. She leaned her shoulder against the seat. “I just feel like, for my entire life, I’ve done what other people wanted.”

Monroe cut in, speaking quickly. “Well, I hope you didn’t do that because I told you that I used to have a crush on you. I promise I wasn’t expecting anything from that, Blake.”

Blake waved her off. “Monroe, that is not what I’m saying at all. I wanted to kiss you. For me. Because you’re gorgeous and so good with Maisie and, honestly, you’ve made my painfully dull existence more interesting than I’d thought possible.”

Okay, so maybe she was being a little too honest.

Monroe grew serious, biting her lip like she was trying to figure out how to respond.

You know, the lip that Blake had been kissing only moments ago.

Focus, Bettencourt.

Monroe wrapped her hand around her neck, digging into the muscle. “I just don’t really know what comes next. Maisie has to be my top priority, always. And I have my show coming up and can’t lose sight of that. Plus . . .” She stilled, her eyes flashing with a depth that made Blake sit up at attention, knowing that whatever Monroe was about to say was going to be exceedingly important. “I’m not used to depending on people. Or counting on them. And, whether fair or not, I’ve started to do both of those things where you’re concerned. I just really don’t want to mess up what we have going.”

Admitting that seemed to take something out of Monroe as she sagged back against the truck’s bench seat.

And Blake understood all of those things. Truly she did.

She wasn’t trying to come in and implode Monroe’s fragile world.

That wasn’t what she wanted, and she’d never be the reason that things were harder for Monroe if she could help it.

But that didn’t mean she regretted the kiss either.

The problem was that the more she learned about Monroe—how fiercely she loved, how loyal she was, how much she’d overcome to get where she was—the more Blake wanted her.

Blake wouldn’t go after something she wanted at someone else’s expense, though. She’d had enough of other people in her life doing that.

And, at the heart of it all, she’d take Monroe in whatever form she could have her. Friend. Confidante. Neighbor.

“A kiss can just be a kiss,” she rationalized, as much to herself as Monroe. “I don’t want me—us—to be another thing that you feel like you need to manage right now. I absolutely promise that I can go back to being your favorite neighbor, Blake, who’s always there if you need her.”

Monroe groaned, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know that you’re more than my neighbor.”

“I know. But even if that’s all that I was, I’m telling you that it’d be okay.” She gestured between them. “I’m okay. I promise. I just don’t want the kiss to come between us. Promise me that it won’t?”