Page 28 of Stolen Kisses

“Yes, and you have all the right to berate me. It was a mistake.”

“What happened?"

I detected a protective note in his voice that took me by complete surprise. "They trashed their room. I guess I should be happy they didn't do any permanent damage."

"You can still make them pay for it."

"Nothing was broken. I just had to do a deep clean of the place.”

"Hannah—”

"Nope, let's not talk about it,” I said as we stepped into the backyard. “You came here under the pretense of wanting to roast marshmallows, so let's do that." I pointed to the place where we usually had bonfires, about twenty feet away from the inn. The earth was scorched, and there were several logs around there where people could sit.

"Let me see if I can start the fire," I muttered once we reached the logs.

"I know how to start one," he said.

I grinned at him. "Okay, let's see you be all manly, then."

And sexy, a voice said in my head.

And holy shit, was he sexy.

He started by rolling up his sleeves. His arms were impressive, and although I had noticed them at the wedding, here just before sunset, when it was only the two of us with no one to distract us, things felt different—intimate.

Why is he here?

Chapter Seven

Hannah

––––––––

Five minutes later, the fire was crackling. I put marshmallows on two metal sticks and handed him one. The tips of his fingers lingered on mine a beat too long, and a bolt of heat unexpectedly coursed through me. Averting my gaze, I turned to the fire, putting my marshmallows right into the flame.

Sunset was my favorite time. The sky was a mix of blue, orange, and streaks of pink. The birds were singing happily, and if I concentrated, I could almost hear the ocean waves, even though we were pretty far from the shore.

"That's it," I said a few seconds later. "Watch me do it so you don't accidentally burn yourself." As carefully as possible, I put the marshmallow between two graham crackers with a chocolate bar. Then I bit into it.

"Mm, these are good. Your turn." I pointed to his stick, and he shoved it into the fire, but his eyes were fixed on my mouth. I pressed my thighs together, fidgeting on the log.

"Your marshmallow is melting off," I said. He hadn't taken his stick from the fire. Two marshmallows had completely melted, but one could still be salvaged.

He prepped the s’more the same way I did, blowing cold air before eating it.

"So, what's the verdict?" I asked.

He glanced up at me. "I kind of expected more."

I gasped. "You don’t like them?”

"I do, but I'm not impressed."

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve just lost all the goodwill you earned at the wedding. All of it.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “How can I gain it back? Another dance? Or another kiss?”

Excitement spiked in my veins. It was thrilling. But I felt like I was missing part of the story and was playing catch-up.