Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You look incredible.”
We did.
We also looked horny. Like two people who had incredible chemistry and who were ready to jump each other’s bones, simply put. Which was a little funny, in a way. Under normal circumstances I would have totally framed that picture and had it displayed somewhere in the house. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and it was hard to laugh at how my sister’s best friend had put that aroused look on my face when I felt so horrible for actively lying to her. Face-to-face. Even if through my phone.
“You don’t think so?” Adalyn asked. “Is that why you’re frowning? Or is it because the picture is on a page with two million followers?”
I forced my eyebrows to chill. “Well, seeing our picture on Page Nine makes me a little woozy. But it’s fine.” That wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t all that rattled by the photo. It was a great photo, even though it was a hoax. “I just… wish I’d thought out my outfit better, I guess. Am I showing too much cleavage? Grandpa Moe said I should have worn a scarf.”
“He’s sweet,” she answered with a chuckle that made her dark eyes spark with amusement. “But absolutely not. Your outfit is perfect and you are glowing. What did Matthew think? I’m sure he had plenty to say about that dress. Or the fence, really.”
Once more, I felt that gut instinct to switch topics. Deflect. And once again, I suppressed it. A week had passed since the game, and Adalyn and Cameron finding out. We’d talked to them separately, Matthew going first like he insisted. So this… feeling of betrayal would surely go away. I still believed it was best for Adalyn and Cameron not to know the truth. Adalyn would go bananas on the whole thing if she knew, and she’d probably try to become my personal bodyguard. Less involvement meant less stuff shoved on their plates. Her plate. Bobbi had been sent to deal with me, anyway. Not Adalyn. She’d had enough. Plus, neither Adalyn nor Cameron questioned my supposed relationship with Matthew anyway. I guessed that was based on my track record with relatively quick engagements and my tendency to get carried away by the moment.
“He… said we look great,” I lied. Lies, lies, lies. He hadn’t. Matthew hadn’t said anything about the picture. Nothing specific when Bobbi shared it with us. And nothing when I posted it to my socials. I didn’t even know for sure if he’d seen Page Nine using it too.
Adalyn’s brows arched for a moment. Then she sighed. “You can tell me what he really said. Even if it’ll gross me out, because you’re my sister and he’s… very unfiltered and inappropriate.”
I racked my head for a Matthew thing to say but came up empty.
Adalyn shook her head. “Is this why you thought you had to keep your relationship a secret? These kind of things? I won’t react in a weird way. We can talk about… private stuff.” She made a face. “Like sex, or… dirty talk.”
“Can we?” I asked her, genuinely surprised.
“Maybe not,” she said. “Not yet? Ugh, I don’t know.”
We both laughed, even if a little awkwardly.
“You…” she trailed off for an instant. “You make an incredible couple. And I love you both. I think I’ve already said that, but I don’t know how else I can reassure you that I’m okay with you two being together.” Her expression sobered and it was so hard to keep my arm up, holding the phone in place, when I felt there was a but coming. “But I’m still disappointed that you felt the need to hide it. It’s not just directed at you or Matthew. I—” She sighed, and the sound was so sad it broke my heart a little more. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve gone through this already. It’s the stress of everything. Life has been a lot lately. Building the youth club from the ground up hasn’t been easy, and I think I need a vacation.”
That felt like a punch to the gut. All of it. Several punches I deserved. “I’m so sorry, Adalyn. It was never my—our—intention to hurt you. Or Cam. Do you believe me when I say that all I did and do is with the best of intentions? So you wouldn’t worry about unnecessary stuff?”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I know that. And Cameron knows too. Even if he still gave Matthew the third degree.”
“He did?” I croaked. “When?”
“Matthew drove down here and came by the club the other day. He was dying to see the facilities after hearing us going on about it for months. We showed him around and before I knew what was happening, Cam had him sitting down in one of the meeting rooms.” She huffed out a laugh. “He got really graphic about how well he knew every muscle and bone in a body and all the ways he could inflict damage on them.” A snort left her. “With only a boot. Or a ball. He wouldn’t even need to get his hands dirty.” More laughter followed. “Wait. Matthew didn’t tell you?”
I blinked at the screen for a second before groaning, “Oh God. No. He didn’t, and now I feel… horrible. Awful.”
“Don’t,” Adalyn reassured me. “I’m sure Matthew was trying to spare you feeling bad. And honestly? I think he secretly enjoyed it. He kept trying not to smile, and Cam kept trying not to be aggravated by that. It was cute.”
I didn’t think it was. I also didn’t understand how Matthew hadn’t said a word. “Is Cam… angry at me?”
Her head tilted, shoulder-length dark waves moving with the gesture. “Cam’s just protective of you. I think because he was there when you were engaged to Ricky and because he knows enough of the rest. You’re also the reason he moved to Green Oak, and therefore, the reason why we met. So I think you’ll just have to deal with the fact he’s not going to back down. Once he makes up his mind, he’s immovable. And in this case, that’s promising retribution if you’re hurt.”
“Right,” I said, feeling my throat work around a lump. “I’m so…” Lucky to have them. So scared to lose them. So determined to spare them any unnecessary hardships. “Flattered. And I think I deserve the third degree too.”
“Are you going to break his heart?” Adalyn asked.
The question caught me so off guard I stumbled. “No.” Because no hearts were on the line. Only an engagement that wasn’t meant to last.
“Okay.”
Okay. That was it? “I’m…”
“You’re overwhelmed,” Adalyn finished for me. “And I get it. The attention is a lot. If anyone gets it, it’s me, I swear. I’ve been a meme in the past. And Cam has been in the spotlight enough time to get it too. That’s why we’re offering our support, from any distance you’re comfortable with, and in any way we can.” I frowned at her choice of words, but she was quick to add, “I just hope this doesn’t ruin the excitement of the engagement?”
“It doesn’t. I’m just a little overwhelmed, you’re right. And no, if anything, I just hope the timing of the news has the opposite effect and it makes everything a little less bad.” Or makes them go away. “Like Bobbi said.”
“I don’t like that she’s putting that pressure on you. And I could take Bobbi Shark,” Adalyn offered. Her expression was serious. Very bodyguard-ish, just like I’d feared. “If she gives you trouble. You know I could. I can take Dad, too. I know he’s talking about being part of the wedding, but if you—”
“It’s okay,” I interjected. “I swear. You already have so much on your plate.” And I really didn’t want to discuss Andrew. Or Bobbi. Or any of this. “Are you still struggling with the development programs?”
Adalyn pursed her lips. “We are. It’s hard to cater to so many different age brackets with the workforce we currently have. We had a big influx of sign-ups from out of state since Dad’s Time piece. Dad gave us a shout-out we didn’t expect to get, and it’s a blessing and a little bit of a curse. We’re trying to accommodate as many—” She tapped on her phone screen. “One sec. It’s Cam.”
“Go,” I told her. “I’m sure it’s important. And I need to take these.” I lifted the basket I’d placed on the copilot seat. “Muffins. To Robbie, as an apology. And tomorrow, I’ll give another basket to Bobbi. Also as an apology.” Adalyn arched her brows in question, dark eyes filled with curiosity. “There was an incident with a matcha latte. I’ll tell you some other day. I’m running a goat yoga class in ten minutes anyway.”
“Okay,” she said with a small smile. “I would press for that story, but I really do need to go. Cam only texts when it’s important.” I nodded my head, already throwing the driver’s door open, when Adalyn said, “Hey Josie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really happy about the two of you. And I get it. Why you hid it from me. It hurts a little, but this whole sister thing is new for me too. I’ve never had a sibling before, and some days I don’t know how to have one. I would have definitely freaked out at the possibility of ruining things with you.”
A weight seemed to lift off my shoulders, though for the wrong reasons. Adalyn didn’t mean it the way I wished. But I chose to believe that when the time came, she’d remember her words. “I love you. Give Cam a hug. Good luck!”
“You didn’t have to,” Robbie said, taking the basket off my hands.
I learned early in life that a basket of freshly baked mini muffins would always smooth out the sharpest of edges. Liz Moore’s had been known across all the county, and mine weren’t that far from Mom’s. Or at the very least, they’d never failed me. “I think I really do.”
“I should be the one apologizing. I lost it for a second there.” He shook his head. “I swear I didn’t do anything to the latte. I did consider it, though, which is just as bad. That woman… She’s something else. And María has been picking up on everything lately. She’s no longer my baby girl, I’m afraid.”
She really wasn’t. The kid had always been sharp and mature for her age in her own way. Which I knew was a product of losing her mom so early in life. The weight of which I could see right now in Robbie’s gaze.
“You know María is her own person,” I countered with an easy smile. “Even if she is eleven years old. There’s nothing you could have done to stop her if she thought Bobbi deserved a matcha latte with a pinch of tabasco. We all but invaded your property. So the muffins are the least I could do. Bobbi’s my responsibility.”
He sighed. “You’re not responsible for her actions. Don’t put that on yourself, Josie.” He stole a glance at the group of people behind me. “Anyway. How was the class? Did any of the goats give you a hard time? The new kids have been a complete nightmare, and I was hesitant to have them out today.”
“No hardships to report,” I said with a little salute. “I love those furry monsters rolling around the mats.” I threw him a wink. “And the baby goats, too.”
Robbie laughed in response, and I felt an ease, a sense of normalcy I’d been missing these past few days. This was one of the things I loved about my life in Green Oak. The apparent simplicity I was always working on spicing up. I ran activities like goat yoga—or Green Oak’s Goat Happy Hour, as it was advertised in our pamphlet—pottery night; pre- and postgame get-togethers, no matter if the Warriors won or lost; and seasonal fun events like the haunted pumpkin patch, the star of our Fall Fest. Mayor or not, I adored doing all of that. It was my way to show up for my community. Just like I had today with the muffins for the Vasquezes after Bobbi hijacked their farm. Change, as I loved to think, challenged you in a way not much else would. But I’d had enough of that this week. A girl still needed something to hold on to when the road bent and turned a little too much. Yoga, muffins, baby goats.
“All right.” I tugged at the towel around my neck. “I should probably let you get back to it and throw a hoodie on before I cool off. I’m so swea—”
Lips brushed against my cheek, just as a warm and solid body gently eased against my back.
My spine stiffened with surprise.
“Hi, babycakes,” was murmured in my ear.
Matthew, my mind screamed. Fiancé. Engagement. Ring.
“Hi,” I croaked. “Mattsie-Boo?”
Matthew laughed easily, and before I could grimace at myself, his arm snaked around my front, palm slipping under the towel and setting up camp over my collarbone. I felt myself flush. Toes to the roots of my hair.
“Robbie,” Matthew said in acknowledgment before switching his voice back to… his fiancé voice? “Did I miss the class? Damn, I was hoping to make at least the last few minutes. Mmh, I would have loved to watch.”
My lips twitched a few times, dazed by everything, really. That mmh. That voice. The feel of… Matthew, suddenly there. Everywhere. Much like during the photoshoot, when we’d been against a fence, and he’d been—I stopped myself.
“Boy,” I said with an awkward-sounding chuckle. “You missed nothing. Just me, sweating like a glassblower’s arse, like Cameron would say.”
I really did grimace then. Cameron had never said that.
“Cute,” Matthew said, and I swore I could hear the smile on that word. “And sweaty. Just how I like.”
A laugh seemed to be strangled out of me before I blurted out a “Yummy.”
Yummy?
Robbie shot me a worried glance.
Fair. I couldn’t understand how, but that kiss on the cheek had made me short-circuit. Which wasn’t good. I loved PDA, and everyone in town knew that. Under normal circumstances, I would have lit up and turned in Matthew’s arms, planting a kiss on his mouth. But I was pretty sure I’d collapse to the ground if I did that. Which… was worse than bad. Maybe we needed rules. Guidelines. A… plan, too, after Adalyn asked me if I was going to break his heart, and Matthew getting the third degree from Cameron. This engagement needed a Terms and Conditions. Yes.
“Do you mind if I steal my fiancée?” Matthew asked the other man, snagging my attention back. “She’s been out all day and I’m a needy man.”
“Absolutely,” Robbie said with a smile, already walking off. “I’ll put these in a safe place before María runs through them in the blink of an eye.”
I nodded my head, watching the man leave in the direction of the house.
“Hi,” Matthew said after a beat. As if he hadn’t done all that cheek-kissing and arm wrapping and suggestive commenting about my sweat. He moved, coming around to face me. “Was that a basket of muffins?”
The sight of the sun shining on him, surrounded by the greenery of the farm and slopes beyond, disarmed me. “You’re wearing your glasses,” I heard myself point out. Surprise registered in Matthew’s expression. Okay. That had been a little out of the blue. “You hardly ever wear them. They’re nice. And they momentarily distracted me, I guess.”
Matthew’s smile was hesitant at first, but big and smug once it fully parted his face. “You’re wearing a pretty distracting workout set yourself, shortcake.”
I hoped the slight flush that his words brought back to my skin wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I don’t think the cake thing is going to work,” I commented with a shrug. “And thanks. I’m feeling exactly how tight my clothes are.” I also knew he could be referring to the blinding shade of pink of the leggings and top, and not the way my body looked in it, but what did that matter in the big scheme of things? “Those were my apology muffins in Robbie’s hands. And you kissed me on the cheek. I think we need rules for things like that.”
“Things like you calling me ‘Mattsie-Boo’?”
“It was the best I could do,” I countered. “You caught me off guard.”
“With my kiss. On the cheek. That we need rules for.”
I could see the amusement in his eyes, so I shot him a glance. “With your presence. But yes. Did Bobbi send you or are you here to talk about Page Nine?”
His brows arched. “I’m your fiancé. I’m here to walk you home.”
My chest did a weird thing. Odd enough for me to know that it wasn’t only about the nice gesture. Strong enough for me to know we really needed that conversation about rules and a plan. “A walk home sounds great,” I said. “I’ll just have to let Robbie know that I’m leaving. Goat Happy Hour runs for another hour, and I usually hang around. It’s mostly the kids petting them and hanging out, but baby goats can be a bit of a handful.”
“Let’s stay, then,” Matthew offered.
I glanced at his clothes. Worn jeans, those Chelsea boots I’d seen a few times on him, and a basic tee under a corduroy overshirt. “I’d hate for you to get all messy or your clothes covered in goat hair.” I never minded having to do a little extra laundry, but the last time I’d brought a man to something like this had taught me that not everyone did.
“You underestimate how much I love a good mess.”
My silly mind took in that glint in his eyes and ran with the implications of it. A different part of me too, based on the questions that rose to the tip of my tongue.
“Let’s go,” Matthew insisted. Was that genuine excitement in his voice? He nodded his head toward the group gathered around the furry little monsters, setting his palm at the small of my back. “Let’s hang out with the goats, then I’ll walk you home.”
Matthew hadn’t lied.
He loved a good mess.
He hadn’t even blinked at the mud stains on his white tee, or the grass and goat hair scattered all over his jeans. Even when María had approached with Pedro—a teacup pig and the newest addition to the Vasquez family that had inspired my proposal story that night on the porch—Matthew hadn’t hesitated to snatch him up in his arms.
Based on how my lower belly had perked up at the sight, I seemed to be into glasses-wearing men holding tiny farm animals. Which shouldn’t be surprising. I loved tiny farm animals. I’d just never felt this invested in a pair of arms holding them. Much less, arms belonging to a blond man.
I didn’t think I’d ever date a blond. Not that I was dating one now. I—
I was probably ovulating. That had to be the explanation for why I couldn’t stop gaping at Matthew like I would at a celebrity doing one of those puppy interviews. Only this wasn’t a celeb. This was my fiancé. Matthew Flanagan, who was blond and who I was not technically dating. Sitting on the grass with a mini pig called Pedro Pigscal.
“You should snap a picture.”
My gaze bounced from Pedro’s pink snout to Matthew’s eyes. “What?”
“Just saying,” he offered, rearranging Pedro in his arms. “That way you could stare at it. Me. And little Pedro. Whenever you please.” He winked. “And whenever you need.”
I snorted. Or tried to. He really was good at this whole flirting thing. I shook my head. “I think I’ve had enough staring at a picture to last me a few weeks.”
Matthew sobered up. “How do you feel about that?”
That. Page Nine. Us on it. “It’s a good picture. It could have been a lot worse.” I brushed back a lock of hair that had come out of my ponytail, tucking it behind my ear. “It’s very believable.”
And I wondered what his family, friends, anyone who knew him thought of it. But the question was getting stuck every time I tried to summon it.
“You looked beautiful.”
My breath left me, and I had to get my head in check with the way my heart had skipped a beat. “We looked flustered. And horny. Like Bobbi said. I wouldn’t exactly call that beautiful.”
His head tilted. “It’s a beautiful look on you.”
Another beat was skipped, and then there was a beat in which we just looked at each other. Me, flushed. Again. And Matthew, easy. Casual. As if he hadn’t just complimented me again.
“Thanks,” I finally answered.
“You haven’t told me how you feel.”
“You didn’t tell me Cameron gave you the third degree,” I threw back at him. “Over this. Us.”
His smile was slow and bashful. A nice surprise. “That’s because it wasn’t a big deal. And I kind of enjoyed it.”
“That’s what Adalyn said,” I admitted. And God, there were so many things I could or should have said then, but I didn’t. I didn’t jump straight to the conversation we should have been having, either. “Smile bigger for me?” I asked, and before he knew what was coming, my phone was on his face and I was snapping those pictures he’d mentioned.
Matthew pursed his lips. “I thought you were done with that?”
“Bobbi would love this,” I said with a shrug. I went up on my knees and scooted closer, pointing the camera at him from a new angle. I schooled my face into a blank expression, trying to imitate her. “Domestic pictures. Chop chop. Tick tock. More stroking, less chatting. And can you look more hot and less depressed?”
Matthew narrowed his eyes at me.
“Not hot enough,” I reported after checking some of them. “You look like Pedro peed in your—”
“Get over here,” he said. And suddenly, I was dragged down onto the grass by a strong arm and planted right beside Pedro Pigscal.
On Matthew’s lap.
I swallowed at the unforeseen change, at what I felt at my back, at the fact I was sharing a lap—my fiancé’s—with a teacup pig. Giggling came from our left. María Vasquez and a few kids. A few people stared, too. Robbie, who was back, smirked to himself.
I cleared my throat. “I hope you don’t try this with Bobbi.”
“Jealous?” Matthew asked. But I could hear the amusement in his words. I could also feel those words rumbling in his chest.
Bracing my hands on his legs, I rearranged myself and snatched Pedro so he’d rest more comfortably on my lap. “More like intrigued at the idea of whether she would snap you in two like a twig if you did,” I said. At which he chuckled. “Now, if you don’t mind telling me why I’m sitting on you?”
“Domestic pictures.” One of his arms came around my waist, his hand latching on to my side. I went very still, only my chest moving with the breath I took. “Is this okay, Josie?”
It wasn’t. Not really. But it was in the way he meant. “Yeah.”
“I wanted to make sure,” he offered. His head came down a little, his voice growing closer. “You didn’t seem to appreciate that kiss on the cheek.”
Thing was, I had. “How do you want to do this?” I asked, decidedly ignoring that. I felt Matthew’s hum against my back, and I realized in that instant that I was spending a lot of time in this man’s arms lately, and a lot more was to come. So maybe it was time for me to stop acting surprised. “Hold on,” I said before Matthew could suggest how to approach the task at hand. I tugged at my hoodie, slipping it off over my head. “Now. I didn’t splurge on these yoga clothes for nothing.”
Two things happened at the same time. Matthew’s hand went back to its place on my waist, only now, thanks to my crop top and the missing layer, that was my skin. His fingers spread, and a murmured word I couldn’t make out dropped from his lips.
My belly fluttered, then dipped. And I had no choice but to bring my phone up in the air just so I wouldn’t think of that. Matthew’s free hand wrapped around my smaller one. The warmth of his palm, his skin against mine, once more overwhelming me.
I watched as his thumb changed the settings of the camera and he turned around the phone. He snapped a couple of photos. And not satisfied with that, he shifted the angle of our arms and took some more.
When he brought both our arms down, I felt so warm—sandwiched between the animal in my arms and the man at my back—and so dazed—by how nice, how natural, how confusing—the last minute had felt, that I didn’t even know if I’d smiled at all.
“I think those will do,” Matthew murmured, his voice deep and almost startling in a way I didn’t even mind.
I took the opportunity to elegantly slip out and return to a spot on the grass. At a safe distance. I tapped on my gallery and studied the results.
Hot freaking damn.
We looked… so hot. So absolutely real, too, with Matthew’s eyes peeking down at me, and the corners of my lips parting my flushed cheeks. There were also a couple of shots of him looking up at the camera while my gaze stayed cast down on Pedro. And one where he was openly checking me out.
My cleavage.
I pursed my lips to hide my delight. I had been very serious about splurging on athleisure, this was the least he could do.
“Bobbi would be proud,” I told him. As casually as I could. “You really seem to know what you’re doing, too. With the selfies. Should Bobbi be worried a Hinge account is going to pop up?” Should I?
A strange chuckle left him as he placed Pedro back on the grass and patted his jeans with his hands. “I’ve never been a big fan of dating apps. I’m a little too blunt for them.” He braced his arms on his knees and met my gaze. “I managed socials at work. Just for a while. It’s a savage world that makes you learn fast. I picked up a few tricks from the guy they brought in, though. And it was from watching him take the selfies, definitely not me.”
I wanted to ask him so many different things about that that I didn’t even know where to start. What exactly had he been doing? What was his plan now that he was unemployed? How long had he managed socials? I’d been sure he’d been doing something else. Something that had to do with writing. Was he applying to anything now? And if so, where?
But how did any of that concern me? How much prodding could I do without intruding or him closing off? Could I help him in any way? Make up for everything else? And why had he shut down the two times I asked?
“I could pay you, you know?” I blurted out.
Matthew frowned.
“For this,” I said. “For what we’re doing.”
He seemed as surprised by the offer as I was appalled by my poor delivery. A strange laugh left him. “What are we doing exactly?”
I shot him a bland look.
“Why would you want to pay me?” he asked, sobering. “What happened to it’s you I need to do this. Be my fiancé. Oh Matthew, please.”
My cheeks warmed. I knew what he was doing, as serious as he looked or sounded. “I never said Oh Matthew, please like that.” I swallowed, and the quality of his gaze changed. “And I’m offering because you deserve to get something out of it. I didn’t think of that when I asked you for help, but it’s the least I can do. You should get something in exchange. I’m asking a lot of you. Having your picture on the internet. Your time and energy. That must have a cost.”
“You’re making me feel like an escort, sweetheart,” he told me, but his tone wasn’t harsh, or hurt. His words seemed resigned more than anything. “I can freelance until I find something else. From here. That was the plan, anyway.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “It’s sweet of you to offer compensation for the hardship of touching you, kissing your cheek, or pretending I have the right to pull you on my lap just because I want to. All of which I agreed to do, by the way.”
“Okay,” I said with a nod. “That’s fair. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was taking advantage of you.”
“You aren’t, Josie.”
“Do you… want help with the job hunt?”
“It’s all right.”
“I could really help.”
His only response was a small smile. A bitter one. Or a sad one. I wasn’t sure. I was scared to push him for more and of him saying something I didn’t want to hear. Like how he might have already found something and already had a departure date. Or how I couldn’t be taking advantage of him when it was me who needed his help.
“We should talk about the terms, then,” I told him, lowering my voice. “The plan. The rules of engagement. We never did with how… fast everything unraveled, and I think we should.”
“What about them?”
The brown in his eyes flared, so I averted my gaze. My eyes fell on one of my hands as they rested on my thighs. “We’re not getting married,” I said. The ring caught the light of the sun, making it impossible for me not to look at it while I spoke. “I just want to appease whatever fear you might have. There won’t be a wedding on December first. That date just serves whatever narrative Bobbi wants to create. We’re more than a month away, and a professional is handling things. Gossip is fickle. That stuff dies out quickly. People can’t possibly be invested in someone like me for long.”
“Why not?”
I glanced back at him. “Because there are more important or scandalous things in the world than some small-town girl who happens to share DNA with a powerful man, and who never gathered the courage to say I do.”
“Is that what happened? With your exes?”
Yes. But also, no. It was a complicated and convoluted answer I didn’t have the heart to give him right now. Or the courage. “We’ll wait a sensible amount of time and break things off,” I said, noticing the way he sighed when I deflected. “It’ll be a clean, friendly breakup that will allow us to continue to coexist. We’re both in Adalyn’s and Cameron’s lives for the long run and neither of us wants to hurt them. So we do that, and soon enough it’ll be like nothing ever happened.” I remembered Adalyn’s words. “No hearts will be broken anyway. So it’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod.
My brows furrowed. No remarks? “I know it’ll be a little awkward to be friends after that, but we’ll be fine. I’m friends with all—almost all of my exes.”
Matthew clasped his hands as they hung between his knees, glancing at me over them. “All right. What else?”
“Kissing,” I croaked. “It’s obvious we’re bound to kiss, eventually, so let’s not fight it. On the cheek, like earlier, should be fine.” I straightened my back. Squared my shoulders. “On the mouth only if we must. No one died over lips on lips, but unless it is really necessary…”
He huffed out a chuckle I didn’t understand. “Next rule?”
“We’re obviously handsy.” My face heated up, leaving my exposed arms and section of my belly running a little colder. “I know I am. And I think you are too, from what I’ve seen. It’s working in our favor so… I don’t think we need rules about this. Touching is not like kissing. It doesn’t need to mean anything. Unless you’re… groping my ass or something. You could, but that needs a reason and a warning, maybe? We’ve touched plenty already and we’re fine.” A strange shiver ran down my arms. “Right?”
“Right. We’re fine.”
I waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, I shifted in my spot. I waited, crossing my legs and giving Matthew time if that was what he needed.
He didn’t add anything.
“You are awfully agreeable for someone I had to seduce and trick into this. No remarks? No demands? No rules that you want to add?”
A gust of wind picked up, hitting my skin and making me wince a little, just as he finally looked like he wanted to add something. He came up on his knees. “Arms up,” he said.
I frowned at him, and he moved, coming closer and snatching up the hoodie I discarded when we’d taken the pictures. He held it in his hands, positioning it above me before I could take it from him. The gesture was sweet, and exactly what everyone around us would expect him to do. Without complaining, I raised my arms and met his gaze, waiting for him to slip the sleeves around them. He did, and in one gentle and determined tug of pink fabric, it was going over my head.
“That’s all?” Matthew asked, only when the hoodie was secured around me. I noticed how he didn’t deny that I had to seduce and trick him into this. But that was fine. I could own that bit. “Those are your three rules? We don’t get married but stay friends. We kiss if we must. We can touch.”
That was a very condensed version of them but… “Except uncalled-for-ass-groping.”
“We touch. Except uncalled-for-ass-groping,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said, tempted to correct him again. We can touch. Not we touch. But I didn’t. “All right. Great. I feel a little better now that we’ve talked about this. Phew.”
Matthew didn’t say anything for a few moments, then one of those chuckles left him with a breath. “I’m happy to hear you feel better.” A pause. “My… ladybug ?”
I wrinkled my nose at him, hiding how relieved I was that he’d said that. “Nope,” I told him. “You’re going to have to keep trying.”
It was slow, maybe a little too small, but Matthew gave me a smile. “I will persist, then.”
And just as my lips were bending to return it, my phone chimed with a message.
BOBBI: Urgent. Call me.
“She can wait,” Matthew said. I looked back at him and found that smile gone. “Let me walk you home first.”
Let me walk you home first.
First… before what? I should have asked. But I didn’t.
It didn’t matter.
So I ignored the message and let Matthew bring me to my feet after he stood up. I could deal with Bobbi later. Now I wanted to bask in the little normalcy today had brought, and the way things seemed a little clearer between us. Plus, I’d been looking forward to that walk back home with him.
Even though my truck was parked outside the farm.