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Not by him.
“You’ve had a crush on him for years. Why aren’t you dancing around the room? Why aren’t you just calling a spade and spade or, in your case, a date a date?” Reagan raised her eyebrows. “Wait—is it because of me?”
“No. Well, a little bit.”
She walked around me and pulled some flowers out of a container. Water dripped on the floor as she brought them over to the counter. “Your self-confidence sucks, do you know that?”
I adjusted my glasses. “I think you got enough for both of us.”
“Halley, if you date my brother and it all screws up, chances are, he’s the one who fucked up anyway.” She smirked, her eyes flashing with amusement. “And I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend, but you’re way too good for him.”
I stared at her. “You are saying that because I’m your best friend.”
“Maybe a little. But seriously, you have got to have a little more confidence. You know Preston doesn’t date around like most other people do. If he wants to take you on a date…” She trailed off and gave me a small, one-shouldered shrug. “He’s not doing you a favor or anything. He’s going out with you because he wants to.”
She was focused intensely on the flowers in front of her, and I narrowed my eyes. She knew something—more than she was letting on.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Reagan!”
“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands, dropping the flower she’d been holding. “I’ve known for a while that he’s been interested in you. I honestly think it’s the only reason he agreed to do the kissing booth.”
I blinked at her.
And blinked some more.
And then again.
“What?” That was the only word I could force out.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She pointed at me. “He never actually told me. He didn’t deny it when I asked; he always told me to drop it. I never said anything in case I was wrong. I figured you two would sort it out if it was meant to be.”
I sagged, letting the small bubble of annoyance I’d felt disappear. “I know. I guess I’m just confused about the whole thing. Me and Preston have never been friends—”
“Because neither of you were willing to admit how you really felt.”
“—So it’s come a little out of left field.”
“And you complaining that he didn’t kiss you hasn’t?” Reagan raised her eyebrows. “Look, don’t think about him being my brother. Don’t think about him being this guy you never thought would be interested in you. I’d date the hell out of you if I were a guy.”
I laughed. “I know. Maybe I’ll have my head around it by the time we’re done at the booth.”
“Well, if anything, you’ll have a good conversation starter.” She flashed me a grin from behind a curtain of violet hair. “How many other people you’ve kissed in one day is always a good start to a hot date.”
I snorted, sending hot coffee up my nose, and shook my head. “Don’t even. I have no idea what we’re going to talk about.”
***
As it turned out, there was an awful lot for us to talk about.
The day was an absolute disaster. One kid kicked over Preston’s bucket which sent his money flying everywhere, another almost spilled lemonade all over me, and one old lady who was visiting from Georgia collapsed outside the tent and was whisked away to hospital in an ambulance.
That was before you even thought about the pigeon that’d made its way inside the booth and terrorized us all for twenty minutes until a group effort managed to usher it back out.
I still had a headache from the screaming. You’d think it came from the kids, but nope—they loved it. The screaming was all from the grown-ass women who were trying their best to win the heart of Preston Wright.
I didn’t want to be that person, but screaming about a pigeon that wasn’t interested in you wasn’t the way to win the heart of anyone.
Unless they had a serious hero complex.
Judging by how hard Preston had laughed, he didn’t have one.
I was okay with that because I didn’t have a damsel complex, either.
I was the one who’d grabbed the freakin’ bird and ultimately tossed it outside.
Yep, that was me—Halley Dawson, wildlife whisperer extraordinaire.
The one bonus that’d come from it was that both of us had forgotten about the third state of our bet. We’d wiped the day’s board clean and added it to our tally before Preston had let loose a string of curse words that would make a hooker blush.
“Just do it tomorrow,” I said, dropping my phone in my purse. “It’s not the end of the world, is it? One of us is going to win by the time this is all over, and I know I’ve had enough today.”
