Page 10 of That Kiss

“You done?” I nod toward her bowl.

“Yeah.”

I start to exit the booth and motion toward the door with my chin. “Let’s talk away from anyone else,” I mutter, pulling out my wallet and tossing $20 on the table. That should more than cover the soup and give Karla a nice tip.

“I can cover it,” she objects as she watches my movements.

“And so can I. Let’s go.” I grab her elbow and wave a goodbye to Karla before heading out.

“So was this a date then, since you paid?”

“No. Just a friend buying another friend’s dinner.”

“What about when you had your tongue in my mouth? Was that a date?”

I ignore her comment, guiding her to the other side of Ranger’s truck that I borrowed while mine is in the shop. It’s late and there are only two other people here, but I really don’t need local gossips getting it in their heads that I’m fooling around with Juniper Riley.

“Look, about that . . . I was going through some shit, and instead of handling it like a fucking adult, I acted out of line. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Her eyes stay focused on me. “What kind of shit?”

“Nothing important. It’s in the past anyway.”

She nods, leaning back against the truck as she crosses her arms over her full breasts. Even in a simple black T-shirt, jeans, and a worn baseball cap, she looks like a siren. Without thinking, I reach my hand out and wrap my finger around a single curl that’s fallen out of her ponytail. Then again, maybe she styled it like this on purpose. It’s perfectly mussed and sexy beneath the hat, with a few stray tendrils hanging around her delectable neck.

“I like the purple streaks.” My voice is lower than it was a moment ago as I toy with the silky strands.

“We both liked it,” she says softly, reaching her hand forward to touch my shirt. “Why can’t it happen again?” I stare down where a single finger runs ever so slowly down my chest. “Last time I checked, we’re both consenting adults.” She says the last part with a smirk, and it takes everything in me not to take her up on her offer right here, right now.

“What about your boyfriend?” I grab her hand and slowly place it back at her side. “Pretty sure he’d mind.”

“Oh,” her expression looks confused for a second before she shrugs. “Yeah, we aren’t together anymore.”

I’m tempted to ask her what happened, but the reality is, I don’t want to know or hear about her and some other guy.

“Well, apart from that, Juney, we both know there are several reasons why we have no business letting it become more than what it was: a simple kiss that shouldn’t have happened.” She shrugs again, and her halfhearted attempt to look sad kind of stings.

“Whatever you say, Deck.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her keys. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Our dads grew up together.” She pauses and gives me a questioning look, as if to say and? “I’m not about to cause some family rift over a hookup, Juniper.” She doesn’t respond—just stares up at me with those big blue eyes. “Besides, you’re 22?—”

“Twenty-three in less than a week.”

“Fine, 23.”

“An adult,” she clarifies.

“Yes, you’re an adult, but let’s state the facts here,” I take a step closer to her, staring down at her plump lips, the same ones my body is screaming at me to kiss again. “I’m a 31-year-old man who has no business getting involved with you.”

I’m not sure what I expected. I figured maybe her bottom lip would begin to quiver as big, fat tears tumbled down her cheeks, or maybe there’d be a slap and some well-deserved profanities, but giggling while rolling her eyes was not it.

“Whatever, Deck.” She glances at her phone. “Anyway, it’s late, I’m exhausted, and tomorrow I have to do it all over again. But,” she reaches her hand out and grabs my wrist, giving it a quick squeeze, “I’m so glad you’re back home, and thanks for sitting with me tonight.”

“Yeah, of course.” I clear my throat. “I’m glad you’re back home too. Let me walk you to your car.” I reach for the keys in her hand as we walk, but she pulls them away.

“What are you doing?”

“I was attempting to be a gentleman,” I say when we reach her car.

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