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“Let’s break this down. Did you want me to kiss you?”
Austen goes still as if under threat. Her gaze finds mine and shines in the same way it did before I tried kissing her.
“I’m afraid to be touched.”
“You didn’t get scared until I tried kissing you. When I touch your face, you seem okay.”
“Okay, I’m afraid to have my body touched.”
“We’re talking neck down, right?”
Austen stares at me, ready to cry. Then, suddenly, she cracks up and bites her lower lip to silence herself.
“Yes. It’s mostly a neck-down thing.”
Realizing she’s chilling out, I see an opportunity to keep her with me longer. If she runs away now, I sense she’ll use her fear as an excuse to stay in Banta City.
“So, if I kissed you without touching anywhere south of your neck, we’d be fine?”
Austen’s lips twist into a pout. “What kind of relationship is that?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be forever, right?”
“Maybe. I’ve had therapy for a long time, and this is me at my best.”
“No, I think you’re underestimating the last few days. Assholes burned down your business and nearly killed you and your best friend. I think you’re a private person, yet everyone around here is gossiping about what happened. Plus, you’ve met this really great guy who’s wildly easy on the eyes. But he’s also bossy and insists you ditch your home to come with him to live in a clubhouse full of dudes. Oh, and the dying-dad thing and possibly scheming brothers are issues, too. So, no, Austen, I don’t think this is you at your best.”
“It’s true I’m going through a lot of stress right now,” she says as if my words give her permission to forgive her behavior.
“I’m a patient guy.”
“I’m not a sexual person.”
“Have you tested that out in a real way?”
“No. I’ve only been kissed during a game of spin the bottle at a junior high party.”
“How’d that go?”
“There’s a lot of spit involved in kissing.”
“The guy,” I say and then pause. “It was a guy, right?” Once she nods, I continue, “He wasn’t doing it right. If you were kissed well, you wouldn’t think about spit or what’s for breakfast or if a test is due. You’d just want to be close.”
Austen reflexively licks her lips, clearly imagining me kissing her. Based on her overly direct gaze, she’s hoping I do it well enough to keep her from considering spit levels.
“I could keep my hands above your neck. You have many places available to touch. Your cheeks and jaw. All that red hair.”
Austen presses her lips together, and her breathing speeds up. She’s already feeling me against her. All I need to do is get closer without spooking her.
“Which of these horses is your favorite?” I ask, stepping toward the one horse before making a little detour closer to her.
Watching me casually wander in her direction, Austen gestures toward a black horse with the name “Glorious Summer.”
“Why her?”
“She used to be a wild beast, but her former owner broke her. She was scheduled to be euthanized after she became too skittish, but I saved her. Now, she enjoys a quiet life.”
“So, she reminds you of yourself.”
