“Kade, I’m glad you’re okay,” Mom said, her voice thick with emotion. “And moving on.”
I lowered the binoculars and stared at my phone.
“Aww, Mom, don’t cry,” I murmured with a frown.
“You were always the more sensitive one,” she sniffled. “Not like Caleb. I worry about you.”
“I’m fine,” I said gently. “Really.”
She cleared her throat, trying to sound brighter. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you too,” she replied, her voice steadier now.
The call only strengthened my resolve.
Fortuitous timing.
Juliette was at the checkout.
I stepped out of my truck, ready to soften my target up.
I waited by the store doors, hands in my pockets. The second she emerged, I stepped forward and casually snagged the cart from her grip.
“Hey—” she started, then her eyes landed on me. “You.”
Without a word, I turned and strode off with her cart, leaving her to scurry after me.
“This is theft!” she shouted.
I stopped at her car and waited, casually leaning on the cart like I owned it—and her. A few shoppers glanced over. Perfect. Let the grapevine feast.
“I can’t let the mother of my child carry heavy groceries,” I said, projecting my voice just enough. “What will people say?”
She slapped a hand over my mouth with a gasp, eyes wide.
“Aww, baby,” I murmured against her palm. “If you wanted a smooch, you should’ve just said.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist and dipped her back, sealing my lips over hers.
Her gasp was muffled beneath my mouth, and I felt her body tense in my arms. The kiss had started as showmanship—a territorial display for the gawkers around us—but the second I tasted her, everything else slipped out of focus.
The press of her lips, soft and warm against mine. The way her fingers clutched at my shirt, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer.
God, she tasted like sinful sweetness and trouble.
I deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just a long, smouldering claim. Her breath hitched when I slid my hand from her waist up to her ribs, feeling the delicate thud of her heart under my palm.
She kissed me back. Not fully—not with surrender—but enough. Enough to say she was curious. Still angry. But not immune.
The sound around us faded. No more footsteps, no more carts clattering over concrete. No more whispers. Just her—her scent, her heat, the tiny whimper in her throat as I tilted my head and licked into her mouth like I owned it.
Which, let’s be honest, I would.
Eventually, she broke the kiss with a breathless shove to my chest, eyes wide, lips swollen, chest rising and falling beneath that thin cardigan like she’d just run a mile.
“You—” she started, but the words didn’t come.
