“What? Who?”
“Hang on,” I said, focusing on the list. I knew there was another one. “‘Help a tourist.’ Two birds, one stone. I drove on the freeway. Technically, the frontage road, but still.” My hands shook as I got closer to the item we’d both been avoiding.
“No, wait. When was all this?” Pace held my hand with the pen until I looked up at him.
“Last week,” I said, flushing with no way of hiding it and not even sure that I cared. “When you didn’t show up for our—at our meeting spot on Halloween, I was concerned. Then, when I heard about the fire, I went a little berserk.”
His brows narrowed, and his mouth formed a hard line. “I’m sorry.”
“Please. God, no. You cannot apologize. You were doing your job. I don’t even know what happened. I just freaked out. But I won’t do it again. I promise. Something came over me. I don’t even recognize the person that I became. I think I parallel parked at some point. I don’t think that I could ever do that again, gun to my head.”
He swallowed, his gaze moving all over my face as though to make sure I was okay. “And in your search for me, you did all these things?”
“Yeah. Wild, right? Technically, you can still take some credit if you want.”
He was about to say something else when I looked back to the list.
Nothing ventured . . .
I felt sick. I was going to bring up the thing that we weren’t discussing ...
My hand moved to cross off “superhot make-out session” when he stopped me again.
“Hey, now. That’s not been done.” His teasing smile fell. “Wait. Right?”
I blinked. My cheeks had to be bright red and flaming now.
“Well, you were there ...” Did he really not remember the incendiary kiss that forever changed my life? Was that no more a common event for him than saving cats from trees?
Oh, I’d been a fool. I had thought about that kiss over and over since that night. Dreamt about it, woke up tangled in sheets after replaying it.
And he hadn’t even registered it.
“Sophie.” His voice was low but demanding. I forced myself to meet his gaze despite my mortification. “That was not a ‘superhot make-out session.’”
“Ah. For us mere mortals?—”
“No. No. This isn’t whatever tale you’re telling yourself.” He turned more fully toward me. I mirrored him. He leaned even closer. I did too. “That kiss we shared was very hot, very,veryhot. Don’t get me wrong.”
“It was a big fire ...”
“Don’t do that. Don’t downplay it. But I’m saying that while that kiss was a remarkable thing, it wasn’t making out,” he said.
I couldn’t speak ...Remarkable. I swallowed.
“That was a few seconds surrounded by people in the midst of my day job.” He shook his head with a soft huff of a laugh. “A SHMOS—that’s what I’m calling it now—is not that. That was just a little bit of PDA.”
“Too many acronyms.” Though I thrilled that he considered my display affectionate. I swallowed, watching his mouth. “W-what is it then?” I asked with every ounce of bravery I could muster.
“A SHMOS is much more.”
“We should workshop the name,” I mumbled, but was lost in the soft tenderness of his gaze.
“First of all, it’s private. Just two people in a bubble of desire.” His voice was a low whisper that tickled up my spine.
I nodded, feeling hazy and almost drugged.
“It’s long too,” he whispered.
