Page 70 of The Worst Possible Plan

And I, Sophie Hartwell, had just kissed the sheriff. Captain Competent. The man responsible for enforcing the law. There was probably a bylaw somewhere about not randomly making out with law enforcement officers during public events. If not, I was fairly certain the town council would be drafting one and naming it after me.

The Hartwell Amendment: No spontaneous kissing of municipal employees while on duty.

When I made bad decisions, I didn’t just dip a toe into poor judgment. I cannonballed straight into the deep end while waving enthusiastically at everyone on the shore. Go big or go home. Right?

Silence settled between us again, like we’d both accidentally walked through a door neither of us had intended to open. Neither of us seemed entirely sure whether to step farther inside or back out and pretend we’d been looking for the restroom all along.

“I…” I pointed vaguely between us. “That…”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t usually…”

“I know.”

“I mean, I don’t just kiss people.” I frowned. “I should probably make that clearer because that sentence somehow sounded like I occasionally do this as a hobby. I don’t. I don’t wander around kissing random sheriffs. Or accountants. Or mailmen. There’s no list. No punch card. No loyalty program.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Good.” I nodded quickly. “Because that would’ve been embarrassing. More embarrassing. I feel like we’ve already achieved a fairly impressive level of embarrassment.”

He looked at me. “Sophie.”

“I’ve made this weird. Haven’t I?” I winced. “Please don’t answer that because I feel like you’re going to.”

He raised a brow. “A little.”

I closed my eyes. “Fantastic.” I rubbed both hands over my face. “I’ve been an event planner for what… barely two days?” I sighed dramatically. “And now I’ve chased a goat through Main Road and kissed the sheriff. When you hear it out loud, it does sound like the beginning of a psychological evaluation.” I frowned thoughtfully. “Actually, if I told this story to a therapist, they’d probably ask me to slow down around the goat chapter because that’s where things really start going off the rails.”

For the briefest moment, the corner of Eric’s mouth twitched again. Sheriff face. With another crack in it. It was becoming my new favorite expression. Unfortunately, I suspected it was also becoming addictive.

His thumb brushed lightly against my back before he seemed to realize he was still touching me. Then he let his hand fall away.

The sudden absence of it was ridiculous. It shouldn’t have mattered. It absolutely mattered. My body noticed before my brain did, which felt both inconvenient and slightly traitorous.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he said.

I had a brain fart moment. “What?”

His expression stayed calm. “I have for a while.”

“You did?” My heart attempted to leave my body. It didn’t simply skip a beat. It packed a lunch, climbed over my ribcage, and made a determined run for freedom.

“But…” he continued.

There it was. The responsible but.

“We probably picked the worst possible time,” said the sheriff.

“Right.” Right? Did he regret kissing me? Was that what he meant? After what was probably the best kiss of my life?

“You’re running the festival,” the sheriff went on.

“And you’re the sheriff,” I added.

He nodded once. “So…”

“So…”