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“As long as you’re not planning to turn half the house into some sort of man cave with beer pong tables lining the hallways, I think you’ll find someone who will love your dream house,” she said. “Of course to meet that special someone you will have to start dating.”
And that was as close as she was going to get to kicking him in the butt and demanding that he turn his focus away from her. They could remain friends. But another kiss would just lead to a dead end.
His smile faded. “You think I should ask someone else to be my date to the wedding?”
She forced a brief nod and let her gaze settle on the half-eaten pie.
“No,” he said slowly, lingering over the simple word. “I don’t think so. But I might put in an offer on that land.”
“You should do both,” she pointed out despite the relief that threatened to turn to joy. “I can’t move into your four- to five-bedroom dream home. Not when I’m still so . . .”
Scared.
Nearly fifteen months had slipped by since she’d run away from the military. She’d pressed pause on her life that day. There had been moments here and there were she’d felt ready to hit play again and move on. Each one revolved around the man standing across the stainless steel counter looking down at his pie.
“A couple of weeks ago you stopped wearing those baggy cargo pants.” Josh dug his fork into the dish and glanced up at her. “I like the skinny jeans better.”
Me too. And I like the way you look at my legs when you think I’m distracted. . .
“I stood out in the cargo pants and boots,” she said with a shrug. “Lily said I’d blend in more if I dressed like the university students. And Josie had some clothes she didn’t think would ever fit again even if she lost all the baby weight. She gave these to me.”
“You stand out in those jeans too. I’m glad I only have to share the view with the dishwasher.” He nodded to the machine. “And not all those young kids from the college.”
“You’re twenty-eight, Josh. Not that much older than those ‘young kids.’ Many of them are graduate students.”
“More than half would love to have you serve their drinks,” he said.
“I like it back here where no one will—”
“Notice you. Yeah, I get that. But my point is, you’ve changed since you first showed up here looking for Noah.” He set down his fork and took a step back. “Who knows what will happen next?”
“Nothing.”
I hope. I pray.
Because the only life-changing events she could imagine would land her in trouble. She’d carved out a safe place to hide. She had a cash job and a place to live thanks to her boss. If she lost this—
“Something always happens next.” He turned and headed for the door.
She’d touched the hard planes of his chest when she’d kissed him, but the view of his backside left her wanting more. More pies. More conversation. More Josh.
One . . . Two . . . Three. . .
He turned and glanced over his shoulder. And then he flashed a knowing smile. Oh, she’d seen plenty of hard-bodied men. She’d served alongside soldiers with drool-worthy muscles. There was nothing special about Josh Summers.
Except for his smile.
She was falling for that grin and the man who wielded it like an enticing treat. Tempted to trust in him. Believe in him.
“I’ll see you at the wedding,” he called and then he walked his delicious smile out the door of the bar’s back room.
She abandoned her fork and dipped her fingers in the pie dish. Sugar. She needed a burst of sweetness to take her mind off Josh Summers.
Next time he asks you to lick the whipped cream from your lips, say yes!
Because Josh Summers was right. Something always happened next. And if she wanted to reclaim her life—or at least a small piece of it—if she wished for another chance to land in Josh’s arms with his lips pressed to hers, then she needed to find out what happened when she said yes.
Chapter 3
