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His body,his mouth, his hands.
Oh god, those hands.
Nope.
I turned the radio louder, but not even Van Halen could drown out the thought of Lee kissing me last night.
When an old woman in the shop fussing with my arrangement of ceramic dishes frowned at me and the volume level of the music, I turned it down and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
I returned my attention to the piece of pottery on my wheel, but nothing about it was right. The walls were an uneven thickness, wonky and sagging. The concept itself was just ...off. I scraped the clay from the wheel and inelegantly plopped it in a lumpy ball in the center to try again.
And again.
And again.
The bell to the door of Sand Dune Studio chimed, and I lifted my head to offer whoever it was a welcoming smile. Emma wore a shit-eating grin as she blew through the door, and she twirled like a ballerina in the middle of the shop as soon as she entered.
She planted her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands. “Tell me everything.”
“It’s Sunday. What are you doing here?” I began to wipe the clay from my hands, giving up on the piece entirely.
“Tell. Me. Everything.”
I laughed and moved to the sink at the back of the shop. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit!” she yelled.
“Emma,” I chided.
She turned to the elderly woman. “Sorry.” She then offered a smile to the patrons milling about the shop. “Excuse me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I offered to the mother with two small children. “She has a condition.”
The woman with kind, tired eyes looked at Emma with sympathy. “I understand. I have a nephew who suffers from similar outbursts.”
“Oh, no, she’s just an idiot.”
Emma laughed as I pulled her to the side of the shop and whispered, “Cut it out.”
She raised her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But this isLee.”
“Exactly. It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m totally going to sponsor you. Pitch in some flowers or something.” Her smile widened. “John Mercer bid on me, but I already know you two will be chosen as Top Couple.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. To bring in even more funds for the chosen charity, townspeople could donate things like flowers, small gifts, and other extras to enhance the couples’ date-night experiences and help their favorite become Top Couple.
It was ludicrous, and my face told her as much.
Emma furrowed her brows. “Annie, come on. It’s forcharity.”
I moved around the shop in a flurry, trying to ignore my growing sense of panic. “What is this,The Hunger Games?”
“Please,” Emma scoffed. “Six dates with Lee Sullivan?” Emma stood and raised three fingers in the air. “I volunteer as tribute!”
“Shh!” I looked around to see everyone staring at us. Ms. Tiny shook her head, and I offered a polite smile even though she always walked around my shop and never bought a single thing. “Stop that!” Laughing, I pulled Emma’s arm down. “It’s just weird because he’s my best friend.”
“And you’ve never thought of him in that way?”
