Page 24 of Hearts on the Line

I don’t either.

Before I know it, two bowls of pasta tossed with butter and parmesan are steaming in front of us. He pushes one toward me, and I’m about to take a bite before I grab the container of lemon-infused olive oil beside the cutting board and drizzle a little on top.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Finally, I stab a piece with my fork. Without thinking, I hold it out toward him across the counter. “Try it.”

His eyes lock on me as he leans forward, lips parting. His hand slides over mine, steadying the fork, and when he takes the bite, his mouth brushes my fingertips, sending a spark of desire though me.

It’s just me and him, and the echo of us.

For a wild moment, I think he might close that distance completely. Press his lips against mine like he used to. Like no time has passed at all. Like I never left.

The fork trembles in my hand, nearly slipping, and the spell breaks.

We’re not kids anymore. Not sneaking kisses in school stairwells or hiding under the bleachers at hockey practice, stealing moments wherever we could find them around town, desperate and hungry for one another. Not the teenagers who thought forever was a given.

Now we’re two adults with more than a decade of unfinished business between us.

I’m not sure which version is more dangerous.

Chapter 8

Sloane

I’m stalling.

I swipe the damp rag across the table in a big circle once more, even though I’m sure I’ve already cleaned it off.

I should check with the garage about how much longer before the repairs are finished and start making plans. I’m going to stay until the summer is over, let the media frenzy about the wedding die down, before I head back to New York in September to work for the Monarchs’ PR team. It’s a lie, but I keep telling myself I’m okay. There’s just this big hole in my chest, and I’ve been walking around numb all day, taking orders, thankful at least that I don’t run into any other familiar faces just yet.

“Sloane?”

“Hmm?” I glance up. Annie is in the doorway, a concerned look etched on her face.

“I’ve been calling you…”

I stretch a fake smile and shake my head. “Sorry, distracted.”

She waves me off, then bounces into the small dining room. “Go get ready upstairs. I’m taking you out tonight.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’m leaving in a few days, and I want to celebrate with everyone. That includes you.”

My first instinct is that she doesn’t know me well enough to insist. But that’s not how Annie moves through the world. Everyone adores her for good reason—she’s friendly and fun and a little zany. She has to be to survive her brothers.

I wring the cloth in my hands. “I’m just not feeling it.”

“Ahh,” Annie says, diving for my hands. She grabs me and swings me around as ABBA blasts in the kitchen. “But I can promise you three things.”

I grin, even as the small dining room blurs around us.

“One, there will be no men.”

“Straight for the top selling point, I see.”

She taps her nose. “I’ve had my heart broken a time or two. Second, there will be booze I will be purchasing.”