I check the time and groan inwardly. It’s only been ten minutes.
Gavin clears his throat. “Listen, about last night?—”
“Can we please not do this?” I sink a little in my seat, still humiliated. “I’d rather we pretend that never happened.”
“But it did happen. If we don’t discuss it, we’ll feel uncomfortable around each other.”
I’m uncomfortablenow.
“We have to spend the next three weeks together,” he says. “We should clear the air.”
Is he in school for psychology, too? I know what he’s saying is true, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about the most embarrassing moment of my twenty-fourth year. I run my hands through my hair, wishing it would just lay down sosomethingcould go right this morning. “You were pretty clear last night.”
“Aye, but that was when I thought you knew who I was.” He glances at me, then back at the road. “If you did know, I imagine you wouldn’t have?—”
“Yep, exactly,” I say shrilly.
He shrugs. “See. Now we understand each other better.”
I get what he means. Okay, fine, maybe it eases my mortification a smidge. Wasn’t I the one who told Luna yesterday I won’tkiss Hamish’s cousin? Learning Gavin’s identity is a swift bucket of cold water on my attraction.
Or maybe that’s the rejection talking.
Either way, I relax a little. “So you’re saying you didn’t kiss me because you knew I was Luna’s sister the whole time?”
“Not entirely. I’m not the fling type, Callie.”
Well, ouch.
“It’s only a kiss,” I mutter. All my fingers and my toes wouldn’t be enough appendages to tally up the number of guys I’ve kissed in my lifetime. It’s not a big deal.
“That’s where we disagree,” he says.
My eyebrows shoot up, and I shift a little to face him. “I wasn’t trying to start arelationship.”
“I understand what a kiss is.”
Not sure he does.
Gavin rests his forearm on the center console, and his hand manages the wheel easily on the narrow lane. “I’m selective about whom I choose to kiss.”
Selective. As in I don’t make the cut. That stings.
He glances at me. “You should be, too.”
“Oh?” I scoff lightly. Right now, I want to select him right out of this car and forget all about his sultry accent and mesmerizing eyes.
“I’ve said the wrong thing,” he hedges.
“Yes, you have.”
Gavin presses his lips together. “It’s notyou, Callie. I just don’t kiss every woman I chat with at pubs.”
Ah. Which sounds like he thinks Idokiss every person I chat up at a bar.
Concern flashes over his face. “It’s not a good idea to cross those boundaries.”
What boundaries? Physical ones? My cheeks are hot. He’s practically stamping a label on my forehead that says I’m toofree with physical affection, that he cares more about quality than quantity.
