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Trace pulled back and looked at her. “Lilah?”
The want in his eyes disintegrated, replaced with worry. Lilah tried to stop her spinning mind, but all she could think of was that she hadn’t kissed anyone since her husband.Since Henry.
“I . . .” She swallowed, not sure how to tell Trace what had clutched her thoughts. Her lips still tingled from his kiss.
Trace eased his hand from her hair curling it into a fist on her shoulder.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he whispered, and even though she’d had the same thought, Lilah’s heart rebelled at hearing those words from Trace’s mouth.
She blinked, recognizing pain on his face.
Was the kiss that bad?
“You’re right.” She took a step back, shell shocked by the thrill of kissing Trace followed by the plunge of defeat.
“It’s just—” Trace started, but Lilah didn’t let him finish.
“It’s okay.” Saying so was the only thing she could think of to lessen the sting. “I should get back inside and check on the kids.”
Trace ran a hand through his dark hair and nodded. She walked to the gate, more confused than before. Fumbling with the chain, she let herself out of the pasture and hurried toward the house.
Trace didn’t stop her.
Chapter Six
Tracewalkedtowardthefootball field, spotting Andy from afar. He and the rest of the fourth-grade tag-football team were huddled around their coach, listening intently to instructions. Andy’s back was to Trace, but his auburn hair and jersey number were dead giveaways.The number three.It was Andy’s favorite number. He’d been so excited when the coach handed out jerseys the first day of practice.
Three had also been the number of Henry’s high school football uniform. Trace and Henry had played countless games together on this field. Now, Henry’s jersey was framed and hung in his boys’ room—as a memory and tribute. Seeing Andy wearing the same number gave Trace a stab of both pain and pride.
“Trace!” Ben ran at him from the side and latched onto his leg with a tight hug. Trace gave him a one-armed squeeze—their usual greeting.
“Hey, buddy.” Trace ran a hand over Ben’s blond mop. “What’re you up to? You’re all sweaty.”
Ben let go of Trace’s leg and looked up at him. “Playing football with my friends.” He pointed at a group of young kids gathered close to the school. Trace noticed Freddie Jones among the other boys.
“Are you having fun?” Trace asked tentatively.
Ben bobbed his head. His face said he was having a blast.
“Freddie said sorry and gave me a hug.” Ben smiled brightly, and Trace was glad the tears of yesterday were gone.
“Good.”
“And I’m getting a juice box. I’ll get one for you too.” Ben ran off before Trace could shoot down his offer. His little legs blurred across the grass, straight to Lilah, who stood on the sidelines with a group of parents and kids. Trace walked over, steeling himself for the awkwardness that was sure to come. They hadn’t talked since last night. Since Trace had kissed her.
He hadn’t thought of anything but Lilah since.
Crouched down, Lilah was digging through a small cooler. She wore a flowy sundress in a pale yellow that showed off her golden skin. Ben was next to her, peering into the ice that filled the cooler. He had a juice box in his hand. When Lilah handed him another, Ben jumped toward Trace and proudly raised the strawberry-apple drink.
“Here you go!” he exclaimed.
“Thank you,” Trace said, and Ben ran off to rejoin his friends.
Lilah looked up at Trace. Her cinnamon tresses were pulled back in a low ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and emerald-rimmed glasses. The smile she gave him looked apprehensive.
“Hey,” she said, rising from her crouched position. “Ben said you were thirsty.”
She looked at his hand, reminding Trace that he was holding a juice box.
