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He noted it on the clipboard, shifting his butt on the tailgate as he did so. “Check the EpiPens.”
She did. “Plenty here, unless we’re planning on taking peanut butter sandwiches to an anaphylaxis convention.”
He pushed to his feet as she came up behind him, turning to look at her, that now familiar gut punch hitting him. Her smile seemed a little forced as she jumped down from the back of the van and she started that hurried chat thing she’d been doing all week.
Although Mikayla’s forced enthusiasm for everything was really starting to grate, there was more to it than that. He missed her. She was right there next to him, chatting brightly. Bullshitting, mainly, if he were honest, but he missed her. Missed that easy affection that she gave so generously. He’d never considered how he had really taken it for granted for years, just how affectionate she was. Just a rub on the arm, a kiss on the cheek, a brief hug. That was Mikayla. That’s how she was with people she loved. But not anymore, not with him, and it ate at him. He just hadn’t realized how much he’d taken their connection for granted until it was strained. Shit. There was nothing else to be done. He had to apologize, had to clear the air.
As soon as Len and Bluey clocked in for their shift, he met Mikayla in the locker room. “Let’s take the dogs to the beach.”
She turned to him, her mouth forming an O of surprise. This was going against their unspoken code of avoiding each other if they could. “What, now? Are you crazy, it’s nearly dusk. We’ll barely have time to—”
“Let’s take the dogs to the beach,” he said with more force.
“Right, okay. Don’t get your knickers in a knot.”
Wesley and Buttercup went crazy as soon as they hit the sand, racing around in circles, chasing each other, streaking in and out of the waves. This late on a cold winter’s day, they had the beach to themselves, so it was easy just to let the dogs go for it. They walked along for a way in silence, Mikayla with her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets, the light breeze pulling at her braid under her knit cap.
If he didn’t do it now, he’d never do it. He drew in a deep breath and the cold, salty air hit his lungs with a bracing rush. He could do this. “Mik—”
“I’m sorry I kissed you!” She burst out, taking him utterly by surprise.
“Huh?” he stopped midstride to stare at her.
“What do you mean, huh? I’m sorry I kissed you.”
“You didn’t kiss me. I kissed you.”
“What?! No, you didn’t.” She took a step closer to him. “I grabbed you, like this, and laid one on.” She put her hand to the back of his neck, and he felt his pulse leap. Then she stepped back hastily, almost tripping over her own feet. He went to grab her, to steady her, but pulled back. God, this was ridiculous. She righted herself and started walking, whistling for the dogs to come back. They’d run almost the full length of the beach while Rafe and Mikayla had been distracted.
Rafe frowned as he followed her. Had she really kissed him first? He’d been so worked up leading up to the wedding about wanting to kiss her and trying to ignore it that he’d just assumed he’d made the first move. But now that he thought about it, and she’d shown him, it felt accurate. Jesus. What did that mean? If this was mutual, it changed the conversation entirely.
“Mikayla.”
“What?” There was no mistaking the exasperated note in her voice.
“We have to talk about this.”
“Why?”
“Don’t get stroppy. We’re adults. It’s awkward if we keep pretending it didn’t happen.”
She sighed and stopped walking, turning back to him. “Okay. I’m sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. If only it were that easy. “Great. I’m sorry too. It’s probably better to get it out of our systems anyway.”
She walked in silence for a long moment, pulling her cap off and shoving it in her pocket. The last rays of the sun caught her hair, burnishing it a soft red-gold. “Get it out of our systems?” she said with a frown. “It wasn’t in my system till about five milliseconds before it happened.”
He felt a little sliver of foreboding curl in his gut.
“Was it in your system before that night?”
He didn’t answer. There was a world of difference between a spontaneous kiss after a lovely wedding and a few drinks and a kiss that was the result of days or weeks of thinking about it.
“Rafe?”
She wasn’t going to let it go. “Yes.”
Another long, drawn-out silence followed before she said, her tone flat, “So, I am what crawled up your butt?”
