Page 30 of That Moment
He nods, like that’s enough. Then he nudges the pink box with a knuckle. “Eat one, the sugar will make you feel better.”
“You’re probably right.” I trade the mangled maple for a chocolate-glazed. He watches me take the first bite, his eyes following my tongue as I swipe it across my bottom lip.
“Better?” he asks, bringing his thumb up to wipe at the corner of my lips. I’m about to respond, but I almost choke on the donut when he brings his thumb to his lips, wrapping it around the tip and sucking. “Mmmm.”
I just nod my head, swallowing the donut down. We stand there another few breaths while I finish.
He sets his cup down. “Ready to get your hands dirty again?”
We spend the next few hours mostly in silence, just the hum of the radio and his guidance or instruction every so often. I’m still coming down from our talk—er, my rant rather about pressure, family, expectations when he breaks the silence first, voice low.
“Why’d you bring up our kiss last night?”
I glance over, startled. “What?”
His eyes flick up from the workbench, steady on me. “By the fire. You asked if I remembered.”
I laugh, trying to play off my nerves. “I was just trying to get under your skin.”
He grunts, half a smile tugging his mouth. “Worked.”
I swallow. “Good.”
He’s quiet for a beat, wiping his hands on a rag. I should leave it alone, but instead, the words slip out before I can stop them. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
He glances over, brow raised. “The car?”
I shake my head, heart thudding. “Our kiss. Even before I brought it up, actually.”
That makes him pause. He tosses the rag aside, leaning one hip against the workbench. “Yeah?”
I nod, heat creeping up my neck. “You never said why you did it.”
He exhales slowly. “We were kids.”
“So? Doesn’t mean it didn’t count.”
“The bottle landed on you, remember? That’s why I did it.”
“Technically, it didn’t. Milly told you to kiss me. You could have said no.”
That grin ghosts across his face. “You really want to dig up that night, Barbie?”
“Maybe.” I step closer, pulse racing. “You lingered. Everyone else got quick pecks, but you—” I tilt my head, teasing— “you didn’t rush it with me.”
He chuckles under his breath. “You’re right. It lasted at least two seconds.”
I fold my arms, frustrated that he keeps deflecting. “I know we were kids and it was still just a peck, that isn’t my point.”
“So what is your point?”
I huff. “So why? You could’ve kissed anyone in that circle.” He shakes his head and closes his toolbox, thinking for a second.
“Because,” he says quietly, eyes darkening, “you were staring at me like you wanted me to.”
That admission steals the air from my lungs. He must see it, because his expression softens a fraction. I try to cover the flutter in my chest with a grin. “And now?”
“What about now?”
