Page 78 of Sweet Caroline
He must feel this too.
No. I’m getting ridiculous ideas in my head. He’s not ready.
Miles shakes his head. “You’re overthinking this. And trust me, I overthink shit all the time, so ifI’mtelling you to relax… Listen, I’m here ’cause I wanna be, okay?”
“Okay, but you’re sure it’s not confusing? Because I can’t stand the thought of you risking your sobriety. Or your job. Everything you’ve worked so hard for. I could never forgive myself if—” My throat closes up as tears well in my eyes.
“Hey.” His stern tone is at odds with the gentle way he pulls me into his arms. “I’m not confused.”
I bury my face in his warm hoodie, inhaling the earthy, clean scent of his soap and hoping this looks more like a loving embrace than me trying to fight off tears at an arcade like a teenager.
Mom might be right about me being dramatic.
“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me,” Miles says. “But letmeworry about me, alright?”
I nod, nuzzling closer.
“Here’s how I see it.” His voice rumbles low against my temple. “It’s like we’re two friends—twosexyfriends…”
I grin against his T-shirt, hugging him tighter.
“… who landed this really cool gig where we have to hang out and have fun together a whole bunch and—super cool bonus—we get to boink while we’re at it.”
I lift my head, peering up at him. “Did you just sayboink?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “It’s like being forced to go to Disneyland and ride all the rides. Like,oh no.” He fakes a weak protest, adding, “Don’t make me go.”
A tendril of heat winds low in my belly. “Yeah? And which ride did you wanna try tonight?”
His lips tick up at the corner. “Aren’t you the one with the list of things to try?”
“Yeah, so choose something from my list, then,” I say, playing coy. “If you can remember what was on it.”
“Is that a challenge?” When I shrug, he makes apfftsound. “What, you think I’m allforgetty spaghettiover here? I got that shitmemorized.”
“Oh, you do, huh?”
“Locked in.”
“Then pick something.”
He thinks for a moment, then holds my gaze when he says, “Splash Mountain.”
I raise my brows, catching his meaning right away. “You’re saying you wanna get… wet?”
He leans close and his lips graze my cheek. “Soaked.”
With a slow nod, I hum, pretending to ponder this—pretending the way he said that word didn’t just getmesoaked.
“I’m not sure if that ride is… operational.”
“I think we can get it working.” He lifts a brow, all cocky confidence, and his gaze slips to my mouth. “Plus,” he adds, “I said I’d help you with those, uh, tender spots of yours?”
I slide my hands over his chest. “I think I’m feeling all better, actually.”
“Oh?” The scarred corner of his lips twitches. “Well, I’m sure we can find somewhere that still needs a little attention.”
“I do have one spot that’s been… not hurting, exactly. More like…aching?” The innuendo is shameless, but I can’t resist liquefying his brain while we’re in public.
