Page 51 of Love You Truly

“I don’t just mean the flowers.” She holds up the ring and lets the sun catch its facets so it sparkles. “You got everything right.”

Hearing her words does something to me, hits me deep, and I want to kiss her.

I take a step closer, then another. Gently reaching for the flowers, I pull them from her hand and put them on the porch swing. Her eyes follow my movements as I put a hand on her hip and guide her closer to me.

She doesn’t resist when I slide the other hand into her hair and run my fingers through the silky strands before cupping her cheek. There’s fire in her eyes as they meet mine, and her lips part. I suppress a groan when the tip of her tongue slips out and licks her bottom lip.

The air crackles between us, swollen with electricity that sparks my desire even more. I hesitate a second longer to enjoy the anticipation before I sink into her lips and take what I don’t want to resist anymore. Her eyes drift shut and I hear a quiet intake of breath.

I hesitate a second too long.

A truck barrels up the driveway and skids into a dusty spot next to mine. Mallory’s eyes shoot open and my head whips around to identify the intruder. Mary swings open the door to her truck and emerges with a white pastry bag.

“Biscuits are on me today.” Fucking cheerful, irritating Brit.

Mallory takes a step back and my hands drop from her body. Mary makes her way to us and Mallory walks past me to greet her and show her the ring.

“Nice work,” Mary tells me. “You do fake engagements right.”

Mallory’s apologetic smile tells me she regrets the interruption, but Mary’s words are what ring in my ears. Fake engagement.

I may have let the ring and the moment sweep me up and make me believe we really are an engaged couple in love.

But she’s not that woman. She’s my business partner.

So I can’t be that guy.

CHAPTER 19

Dash

Me: Hi

Mallory: Hi

Me: Hope the biscuits were good

Mallory: You should’ve stuck around to find out

Me: You should’ve insisted

Mallory: You should’ve insisted I insist

“Whoa, really?” Archer’s incredulous voice booms from twenty paces away, as soon as he recognizes me jogging toward him on the path around the lake.

“Yes,” I mutter, fully aware that at seven in the morning, this is not on-brand for me. As Archer draws closer, breathing in the easy way runners do, I get ready for all his mocking, but he surprises me.

“Good on you.” He high fives me as he runs past, never breaking stride. I suppose I should be grateful that we’re moving in opposite directions, which makes conversation impossible. Because I have no good explanation for what I’m doing.

After Mary disrupted us, Mallory and I seemed to have an unspoken understanding that we needed a cooling off period. I didn’t hear from her all day, and even though I was itching to show up on her doorstep to finish what we started, I fought the impulse all fucking day long.

That led me to a latenight workout, which ended with me in the shower, fisting my dick and thinking about Mallory. Which led to a restless night of sleep and useless energy with nowhere to burn it.

Hence the early morning jogging and persistent thoughts about what Mallory meant when she texted that I should have stuck around.

To eat cookies? To finish what we almost started?

I round the lake at Buttercup Hill and feel a glimmer of understanding of why Archer likes to run out here each day. It’s peaceful when the only sounds are birds and insects. It’s the quiet before the shitstorm that’s our daily effort to save our family business from what always seems like the edge of a cliff.

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