My knees buckle, and he catches me with a smug grin.
“Don’t jinx me,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be on napkin duty.”
He tugs my lip between his and traps it with his teeth.
Holy.
Hannah.
“Napkin duty is underrated,” he says into my mouth.
I give in. I kiss him like he’s the only oxygen in the room.
Because I can’t get enough of him. I never can. No amount of kissing or couch cuddling or game nights or slow dinners can fix it.
I’m an old phone with a battery that can’t hold a charge, and he’s the outlet that keeps me going.
“Mm,” he says between kisses, “you even taste good.”
“So do you,” I murmur. “But you’re starting to taste a little crispy. Almost …”
I gasp, shoving him back. “BURNT!”
I throw open the oven, grab a mitt, and yank out the bubbling tray of sweet potato casserole.
Blackened.
“You did this!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“You did! You sabotaged me because you love being the potluck golden boy! I should have made the deviled eggs and you should’ve been stuck with casserole duty!” I swat his shoulder with the oven mitt. “But noooo, you had to be gorgeous and perfect and everyone’s favorite person who can do no wrong.”
He catches my hands in his. “I think you’re gorgeous and perfect andmyfavorite person who can do no wrong. Does that count?”
“It counts for nothing.” I pinch his cheeks, scowling. “If you weren’t so delicious, this never would’ve happened.”
“I can’t even apologize for that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I yank his face down and kiss him. Hard.
Then I break away, point at the door, and say, “Grab your keys. We’re going to the Piggly Wiggly.”
Miss Eunice eyes the casserole like she’s waiting for it to confess. “Hmm.”
Miss Loretta takes the smallest possible serving. A “polite bite,” if you will.
“Hmm,” Miss Loretta says, echoing her friend. She chews. She swallows. Then she nods and takes an actual serving. “Mmm. Eunice, I’ll give the girl this: she can follow a recipe.”
I can’t tell if I should be offended or honored by her tone.
But it’s enough to give the entire town permission to heap store-bought sweet potato casserole onto their plates.
I watch with a mix of shock and … okay, just shock.
Sean squeezes my shoulders behind me. “Miss Eunice, you should know Kayla practiced this recipe multiple times before discovering the … missing step.”
