Page 58 of The Matchmaker
“Katie!” I freeze as Nush calls from nearby, her voice echoing through the trees.
Shit.
“You have to go,” I tell him, and his eyes widen.
“Seriously?” he asks. “What? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“You want to know who the first person to put Jack’s face on the dartboard was? It was that girl. She does not like Glenmill.”
“She doesn’t even know who I am.”
“She’ll know you’re not from Ennisbawn, and she’s a smart cookie. She’ll put two and two together. It’s for your own safety.”
“Now that sounds a little dramatic. Just introduce— okay, okay.”
Nush calls again, even closer this time, and I push him up against a large oak tree, hiding him from view.
“I’ve never been a dirty secret before,” he says, laughing, and as Nush emerges through the tree line a little way up, I slap my hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.
Big mistake.
His laughter stops immediately, his attention zeroing in on me in a way that makes me feel like I’m the prey in this situation, and not the person who just manhandled him against a tree.
“Katie!” Nush calls. “Marco!”
She pauses by the lake, waiting for me to answer before giving up and heading back to the trail. I turn my head to the side, ignoring the feel of Callum’s gaze on my cheek and try to listen in case anyone else has come looking.
“Okay,” I say. “I think we’re—”
My eyes dart back to his as his lips part, his warm breath hitting my skin for half a second before I drop it.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
He nods like I’ve made a compelling argument, but before I can step away, he hooks a finger through one of the belt loops on my jeans. It’s a small movement, and an easily breakable hold, but the gentle tug of it sends a bolt of heat straight between my legs, locking me in place.
“Can I do that?” he asks, when I don’t move.
I don’t trust myself to answer.
Standing together like this, we’re as close as two people can be without touching. And I suddenly, desperately want us to be touching.
Whether these thoughts are clear on my face or Callum can read minds, I don’t know, but he brings his other hand to my hip, and when I don’t move away, he pulls me in a step until our stomachs brush.
We stay like that for the longest time, and I know he’s giving me the opportunity to say no. To back out. To march dramatically away. But I don’t. I don’t do any of those things. I just stand there with my dry mouth and my little crush, and his head dips down, so close to me that I can count his eyelashes and—
“I have to get back to work.”
His grip tightens against my waist as he pauses, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. And then his fingers slip from my waist and his hand drops from my hip, and he straightens, resting the back of his head against the tree as he puts distance between us again.
“Guess I’ll see you around then.”
It takes a second to get my legs to move. When they do, they’re stiff and not my own, and I have to force myself away, mumbling a goodbye as I head back into the trees. I don’t look back until I reach the barn, where Nush is literally tapping her foot as she waits.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” she asks, when she sees me.
