Page 77 of Sweet Caroline
“Yeah, I’m…” I trail off when he lifts a hand to cradle my jaw, tilting my head up, and a little involuntary sound escapes my throat at the look in his eyes.
With a crooked smile, he spins his hat backward and stoops down to kiss me, everything inside me turning to warm honey when our lips meet.
Dear God. That spin-the-hat move should be illegal.
I kiss him back, not even thinking to question it, because the truth is, I’ve been craving this all night and it’s soothing the twisting sensation in my chest to finally be in his arms like this. It’s only when he breaks the kiss that my mind catches up. “What was that for?”
“I uh…”—he swallows, then shakes his head like he’s coming back to his senses—“just uh… thought I saw a guy watching us.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” I school my features to hide how disappointment grips my stomach.
He was just acting.
But, as we set up to play, I can’t shake the feeling that nothing about that kiss was fake. I try to let go of the idea. Maybe Miles issimply a great actor; he said he was a ham, after all. Maybe he missed his calling in the theater.
All it takes is a few rolls to see that Miles did, in fact, miss his calling—as a Skee-Ball shark. Being lost in my head probably isn’t helping my hand-eye coordination but, my distraction aside, his aim is incredible and he trounces me easily. Several times over. Pride glitters in his expression, though he looks like he’s trying to suppress grinning too hard.
“You know you can openly gloat about this, right?” I ask, lifting a brow. “You’re wildly good at it, and I’m”—I roll my next ball and it doesn’t even think about cooperating—“lousy.” Deflating, I watch as it slips out of view at the bottom of the rings.
He moves to kiss my cheek, but I pull away without thinking—Jude’s warning and the fake kiss still too close to the surface. Regret lands like a brick to my sternum when I catch the sting of rejection in his eyes.
Damn it.
The uncomfortable reality is I want him to kiss me more than anything right now. I just don’t want it to be a lie for the cameras. What I told him before about not wanting to date anyone after Fletcher was true enough, but that was when my idea of a relationship was being treated like an afterthought by a man who never truly cared about me—and who I’d never really loved in return.
Before Miles, I’d never experienced wild chemistry like this. Never felt this kind of connection. Never been treated like I should be someone’s priority—in bed or otherwise. It’s all so new that it has me reeling. And it’s making me question what I want.
I must look as conflicted as I feel, because he hands me my next ball with a frown. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” I can’t tell him the truth—that I’m starting to wish this thing between us wasn’t an act. Wasn’t only temporary.
“Bullshit. What’d I miss?” When I hesitate, he tries again. “C’mon, you know I can sense when something’s up. And you’ve been all quiet ever since I left to get—” Realization smooths his features and he steps closer. “Wait, did my brother say something to you?”
“Uh, sort of?” His eyes widen, and I rush to add, “He just reminded me you’ve been through a lot, and he said I shouldn’t…” I take a breath, not sure how this will land.
“Shouldn’t what?”
“Mess with you?” I may have softened Jude’s sentiment in both tone and choice of words, but Miles’ features harden all the same.
“Fucking Jude.”
I touch his arm. “He’s just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, he does a lot of that.” Miles furrows his brow. “Needs to learn how to turn it off, though. And keep his nose out of my business. Jesus.”
“But be real, though,” I press. “Am I already messing with you? Maybe we’re playing with fire with this whole thing. I really don’t want you to get off track because of me, Miles.”
“Caroline, you aren’t messing with me. We made this plan together, right?”
“Yeah, but?—”
“And I’m having fun. I wanna do this with you.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “It’s not too complicated? With my list? That’s not, like, blurring the line a bit?”
I keep the rest locked in my chest—the admission that I’m feeling plenty blurry myself here. Between acting like a couple in public and the mind-altering orgasms in private last night, the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend aren’t feeling too far-fetched.
Acting, I remind myself, though I can’t help the doubt niggling at me.
