Page 25 of My Hotshot

I cringed and wrapped my arms around myself. “Well, that’s because I’m operating on a bottle of wine. Any and all common sense I normally have? Just straight out the window.I’m more than likely going to regret this in the morning while I nurse my pounding head.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You want me to leave? We can pretend like this didn’t happen.”

Did I? My mouth opened to say yes, to brush it off, blame it on the alcohol—but I didn’t. I looked at him. Really looked at him.

The years had been good to Duane. Better than good. The boy I’d once known had vanished somewhere along the way, replaced by a man who wore tattoos like second skin and filled up every inch of the space he stood in. He didn’t feel like a stranger, though. Not completely.

“No,” I whispered. I shook my head. “No, you don’t need to leave. I just… I just wouldn’t have texted you if I wasn’t drinking.”

“Truth juice,” he said with a grin. “I’ve been there before, babe. Though the truth that came out of me was that I once tried to trade my bike for a sandwich after a forty-eight-hour bender.”

I blinked slowly and let out a surprised laugh. “Well, if that’s the only truth that needed to come out of you, then I guess you’re doing pretty good.”

“I’ve already admitted that I wanted to see you again, Lainey. Now we’re just on the same page.”

“Uh, well, I wouldn’t say that I wanted to see you again…” I trailed off.

His eyebrow arched. “You text just your address to people you don’t want to see?”

I wished the floor would just swallow me whole. “Uh, well, you see. Lottie’s spending the night at a friend’s house for the first time since we moved to Mt. Pleasant, and I was…”

“Lonely?” he offered gently.

I frowned. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t use that word exactly. I was just trying to figure out what color to paint the walls and thought it would be good to get a second opinion.”

“So you texted me your address so I could give you my opinion on the wall color?” he chuckled, doubtful.

I crossed my arms and nodded. “You and Lottie are the only people I know within two hundred miles. I’ve been busy unpacking and whatnot. I did meet a couple of your friends at the farmers market today.”

He tilted his head. That surprised him. “You were at the market today?”

I pointed behind me at the bounty still scattered on the counter: tomatoes, a braided loaf of bread, half a dozen pastries, and a box of donuts with only two survivors. “I might also be in the middle of a sugar rush. Wine and sugar make me do some crazy things, apparently.”

“Roll it back to you meeting my friends. Who’d you meet?” he asked, suddenly interested. Maybe even… concerned?

“Uh, Sloane and Aero. She talked him into buying her an appropriate amount of crocheted animals.”

He relaxed visibly and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, they were at the market. Aero was bitching about those animals when they walked in the door. Something about how Sloane needs to take up crocheting so he can retire off the profits. You fall victim too?”

I lifted the small crocheted turtle from the counter and stroked its tiny green head. “Lottie loves anything turtle. The second she picked it up, I knew we weren’t leaving without it.”

He studied the turtle for a beat, then me. “Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you have a kid.”

I scoffed. “I don’t even think I can call her a kid anymore. She’s teetering on the edge of being an adult at fifteen. Keepsreminding me she needs to take the test to get her learner’s permit. I’ve been conveniently forgetting about it.”

Duane chuckled, and I let myself watch him—really watch him. The years had changed him. His jaw was stronger, his shoulders broader, his tattoos snaking down his arms like stories I’d never read. Lainey from sixteen years ago would have melted into a puddle at the sight of him now.

“Lainey,” he said softly.

“Uh, yeah?” I snapped my eyes back to his face.

He shook his head, that grin dancing on his lips. “Nothing, babe.”

We stood in silence. It should have felt awkward. After all this time, after everything.

But it didn’t.

It felt… right. Comfortable. Like slipping into a pair of shoes I hadn’t worn in years but still fit perfectly.

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