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My cheeks warmed, my insides fluttering like my tiny, weakened wings. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

His smile returned, and our hands went into position.

I didn’t overthink it this time.

One, two?—

I did scissors.

Reed did rock.

My eyes panned up to his, while his shimmered with victory.

And then he bopped my scissor fingers with his fist until that fist unclenched and his palm opened, covering my small hand. His touch lingered. It lingered like his eyes always did as he brushed his thumb up and down the length of my index finger.

I swallowed hard, all breath stalled in the crux of my throat. I stared at our clasped hands, wondering why fate had to be so wicked and make it so they’d have to part. His touch was warm, thumb calloused yet gentle.

Everything inside of me turned to sunlight.

A fireball, a blaze.

And then the patio door clapped shut, ripping him away from me.

Reed jumped back, spun around, and shoved a hand through his hair as he cleared his throat. Whitney strolled into the kitchen with an empty wine glass.

Her eyes were glazed with Merlot as she sent us both a wide grin. “Smells amazing, Halley.”

I twisted back to the counter and began to clean. “Thank you. It’s a lot easier now that I have two hands,” I replied, showcasing my arm, sans the sling.

It was a lie, though.

I didn’t have two hands.

One was swiping sour cream dollops off the counter with a dishrag…

And my other was still tingling with the memory of being locked with his.

Evening crested, and I tiptoed out onto the deck after Whitney and Tara had gone upstairs to bed. Reed was outside, watching Ladybug run around in circles as he tossed her a rubber ball and the string lights on the veranda bathed him in a soft yellow glow.

I swallowed down my jitters and approached as he sat hunched forward in a plastic patio chair, elbows pressed to his knees.

Reed glanced over at me when the patio door rolled open and shut. He blinked, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Hey.”

“You’re still here?” I was wearing my new lipstick and my Gin Blossoms T-shirt, while my hands clung nervously to a gift hidden behind my back.

“Leaving in a few. I had some wine with dinner, so I was waiting for it to wear off before I drove home.” He watched as I inched closer, his gaze slowly trailing over me before settling on my plum-stained lips. “Are you going out?”

“No.”

Confusion settled into the creases of his forehead as his focus snapped up to my eyes. He blinked again, waiting for me to voice my intentions. “Did you want to talk?”

I shook my head. “I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” My reply caught on a spring breeze. “I never thanked you for the gift you gave me on Christmas Eve.” Rubbing my matte lips together, I studied his reaction as he continued to stare at me. “The money you snuck in my pocket.”

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