I grinned. “Was it hyped?”
“In my mind, it’s been in development since the truck-bed incident.”
“Should I be worried about future installments?” I handed her a sandwich, which she happily took.
“Oh, absolutely. You’ve set a very high bar now.”
I leaned back, trying not to gloat too visibly. “Maybe we’ll get to volume three later. I’ve got strong ideas involving pie and questionable plaid.”
Fifi laughed, a bright, uninhibited sound that carried across the lake.
She sat up straighter and tapped my knee with her bare foot. “Wearepaddling to shore eventually, right? Or is this a floating makeout hostage situation?”
“I mean, now that you say it out loud…”
“Ben.”
“Yes?”
“If you dump us both in this lake, you’re never getting another one of our muffins again.”
I made a solemn face. “Understood. Muffins are sacred.”
She smirked. “Exactly.”
We drifted a little more, the paddle untouched, the lake holding us like a secret.
And I thought, if this is what danger looks like, I might just be ready to risk everything.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fifi
The canoe had barely touched shore before my mind had turned it into a cinematic masterpiece. The soft ripple of the lake, the heat of the sun warming our arms, the impossibly perfect kiss that had made my toes curl even as I tried not to tip us both into the water.
It was… ridiculous.
And wonderful.
And now, twenty-four hours later, I was still mentally floating.
I sat at my tiny kitchen table, tucked into the corner of my cozy 800-square-foot house near the center of town, cradling a mug of coffee that had long gone lukewarm. My hair was still messy from sleep, and I was in my oldestI Run on Caffeine and SarcasmT-shirt, but none of that stopped me from staring dreamily out the window like a woman deep in the third act of falling for a guy.
Ben kissed me like I was the most dangerous and delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
In a canoe.
And I liked it way too much.
I mean, it wasn’t just the kiss.
It was the fact that Ben—grumpy, reluctant, edge-of-broody Ben—hadplannedit. The picnic. The surprise. The soft-spoken sweetness had all but cracked open a very well-defended part of my heart.
I took another sip of my now-cold coffee.
What was it about that man?
Was it the challenge of his resting scowl? The thrill of coaxing out that quiet, crooked grin? The absolute rush of seeing himchooseme, even in small, careful ways?
