Page 35 of Sweet Caroline
“And I’m almost thirty,Caroline,” he teases, pinkie still hanging. “Your point? What, you too good for pinkie promises?”
“Fine.” My shoulders sag as I hook my pinkie to his. “Deal. I’ll trust you.” Then my voice softens to something more tentative. “But there’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
“What?” He lets his hand fall back to his lap, and I can’t help but wish he hadn’t let go.
“We might need to act… affectionate. Tonight. At the event.”
That gets his attention.
Warmth flushes my face and neck and I’m grateful for the darkness in the back seat.
“Like, touch each other, you mean?” He almost winces, like he regrets how those words came out.
“Yeah, I mean, we’re posing as a couple. It’ll be expected.”
“Right. For the cameras?” He looks nervous.
“Exactly. Like, small stuff. Holding hands. That kind of thing. And… never mind. I’m not gonna ask you to—” I cut myself off, breaking eye contact. “The press can just be a bit pushy about getting a good photo and?—”
“Hold up. You saying we might have to kiss?” He swallows, the movement caught in another swath of passing orange light from outside.
“Just for the cameras,” I stress. “But we don’t have to?—”
“Right.”
“If that makes you uncomfortable, I completely understand.”
“No, it’s—” He shakes his head, then clears his throat.
“Because we can figure something out if they?—”
“Caroline.”
The low tone in his voice cuts through my spiraling, and I press my lips together to stem the flow of words.
“Let’s take it as it comes, okay?” Slowly, he takes my fingers between his own and gives them a squeeze. His hands arewarm and a little rough, and he strokes his thumb over my skin. “Trust me, remember?”
The inexplicable thing is: I do. I do trust him.
“You’re saying we should wing it?” My eyes flick from our joined hands to his face. “Are you sure we shouldn’t…”
He shifts to interlace his fingers with mine. The movement is slow. Careful. As if he’s testing the waters.
“… practice?” I finish the question in barely a whisper, then bite my lip.
Suddenly, all I want to do is bite his.
God, what am I thinking?
“Well, how’s this?” He squeezes my fingers and his gaze settles on my mouth. Reaching out, he tugs my lower lip out from between my teeth with his thumb and I have to remind myself to breathe.
The car pulls to a stop, jarring us from the moment. Miles drops his hand and, like smoke suddenly clearing, whatever was materializing between us evaporates.
Trying to shake it off, I glance out the window before returning my attention to him and wetting my lips. “That was…”—I swallow—“good. A good start, I mean.”
A slow grin unfurls across Miles’ features as he opens the car door. “Alright, fancy girl. I think we’re on.”
8
