Page 198 of Well That Happened

“That’s incredible,” Mrs. Maddox says sincerely. “Such important work.”

“She’s amazing,” Hunter adds quietly, and something in his tone makes everyone look at him. He clears his throat. “At her job, I mean.”

“At everything,” Grayson says simply.

The table goes quiet.

Grandma sets down her fork with a delicate clink. “Well. Isn’t this fascinating.”

“Pie?” Mrs. Maddox says desperately. “Who wants pie?”

“I’ll help with dishes,” I announce the second dinner ends, practically leaping from my chair.

“We’ll all help,” Grayson says smoothly, already stacking plates.

Mrs. Maddox tries to protest, but we’re already moving—a well-oiled machine of desperation to escape Grandma’s knowing looks.

In the kitchen, I’m at the sink, Caleb’s drying, Hunter’s putting away, and Grayson’s on leftover duty. We work in careful silence at first, the sound of running water covering the tension.

“That went well,” Caleb says cheerfully.

Hunter glares at him. “My grandmother thinks we’re in a cult.”

“She does not,” I protest, scrubbing a plate harder than necessary.

“She asked if we ‘share everything,’” Hunter reminds me.

“That could mean groceries,” I say weakly. “The utility bill.”

Caleb leans in close to grab another dish, his lips near my ear. “We do share everything though.”

“Caleb,” I warn, but I’m fighting a smile.

That’s when Hunter crowds in from my other side, reaching around me to put away a serving bowl. His chest presses against my back for just a second, and I feel his lips brush my hair.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, so quiet only I can hear.

My hands still in the soapy water.

Grayson appears at my side, setting down containers. “You’ve got suds on your cheek,” he says softly, then reaches up to wipe them away with his thumb.

The touch lingers.

We’re all too close. The kitchen’s too warm. And I’m about to combust.

“Guys,” I breathe, “we can’t—”

But Caleb’s already turning me from the sink, backing me against the counter. “Just one,” he says, eyes bright. “Been dying to kiss you all day.”

“The door—”

“I’m watching it,” Grayson says calmly.

Hunter makes an impatient sound. “Just be quick.”

And then Caleb’s kissing me, soft and sweet, tasting like pie and making me melt despite every logical reason not to. He pulls back just for Hunter to turn my chin, kissing me deeper, more desperate, like he’s been holding back all through dinner.

“My turn,” Grayson says quietly, and then his mouth is on mine, steady and sure and—

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