Page 29 of That Kiss

We stand next to each other in silence, sipping our coffee. I’m waiting—hoping—he asks me what I’m doing tonight or tomorrow night or where I see this going.

“I got roped into helping Bernice with the beer tent this year,” he says.

I look over at him. “I’m sure she’ll love that. Pretty sure she’d dive into your bed headfirst without a second thought.” We both laugh and then I wonder. “Wait, you haven’t slept with her, have you?”

“Bernice?” He sounds offended. “Jesus, I know I’ve got a reputation, but the woman is old enough to be my mother’s older sister. She’s a lovely woman, but no.”

“Just making sure. Although,” I scrunch up my nose, “not sure I really want to pull at that thread—the reputation of Decker Slade and the trail of bodies left in his wake.”

He drags his hand slowly over his beard before placing his coffee mug on the counter. “Is that a talk you want to have?”

“Oh,” I wrap my hands around my mug and shake my head, “I was honestly just teasing, being dramatic.” I thought he’d just laugh away my remark; I didn’t expect for the conversation to turn serious. But the way he’s looking at me, I know what he’s asking . . . if I see what’s happening between us as serious enough to have that kind of conversation.

“Does it bother you that I’ve been with several women?”

I shrug nervously, unsure of what I should say. Truthfully, it does bother me in a stupid, jealous way I know I have no control over. It’s just because I sat on the sidelines for so long wishing it could be me.

“Should it? I mean, it’s not really my business, is it? Does it bother you that I’ve been with other guys?” I watch to see if he flinches or his jaw ticks, but he calmly shakes his head.

“No.”

“Not the jealous type?” I tease, poking at his ribs. I don’t know why I do it. The moment I say it, it sounds desperate.

He chuckles. “I didn’t say that. I can be jealous, yes, but I don’t like being made to feel jealous on purpose. That shit gets old fast.”

“Yeah, been there.”

“Isn’t that what you were doing last night?” he says. “With Trevor?”

I’m taken aback. “No, I had no idea he was going to pull me on the dance floor or anything. We were all just talking and having a good time before you got there. It was Trevor being Trevor. He’s harmless.”

I’ve known Trevor for a few years. He transferred to our small high school my junior year, and he was a sophomore. He was the class clown from what I remember—the kid the teachers constantly had to threaten with detention so he’d settle down.

“Honey,” his voice grows serious and he reaches out to take my now-empty mug, “I know you like having a good time with the boys—dancing and flirting—but if they knew what I did to you last night, they’d kill to be me. Every one of them.”

My body quivers beneath his gaze and the way the word “honey” dripped from his tongue, sweet and thick like the nectar itself. I want to beg him to call out of work, but I know my body couldn’t take another round of his appetite.

“And I’m not saying you can’t make your own choices regarding Trevor or anyone else. I just know, if given the chance to be with you, he’d take it in a heartbeat.” He reaches out and brushes my hair behind my ear. “But we both know he won’t fuck you like I did.”

My heart drops even though he plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“We should get going. You ready?” he asks.

“Yes.” I smile and follow him out to his truck, continuing to laugh and make small talk. All the while, I keep overthinking the way he worded his comments about Trevor.

Is he saying he doesn’t care if I do sleep with Trevor? Was this his way of saying he’s had his fill and we’re done?

I kick myself thinking back to when he asked if it was a talk I wanted to have. I should have said yes. I should have just told him that it does bother me, all of it, especially if we’re going to continue what we’re doing, because I don’t want to share him with anyone else. I don’t want to be his friend with benefits. It wouldn’t be worth it to lie to him—to pretend I’m okay with it because I’m scared to lose what we have.

I debate all through my morning shower and rush to get ready for work. Around the time I pull into work and walk into the empty office, I finally decide I’m going to send him a text. I open our conversation thread and read over the message twice before hitting SEND.

Me: Hey, I’m sorry if this is awkward to ask now, but regarding your question earlier about if it was a conversation I wanted to have with you . . . I do.

Chapter 13

Decker

“You kick someone’s ass in poker last night or something?”

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