Page 29 of Secondhand Secrets

Was he supposed to say something?

For a man with a vast vocabulary, he had nothing to say. All he had was a painfully sharp awareness of his desire. That her fingers now raked over his back, the rigid bite of her nails daring him to continue. To kiss her again. To—

Unwilling to finish that thought, he hissed and pulled back.

One little mistake with potential for so much damage. Not that he would ever consider Ally a mistake, but hell, he didn’t have a condom. Maybe his desire burned hot enough for him to care less on that front, but he’d also gleaned enough of Ally to guess she would think this moment a big mistake. Maybe not now. But later.

Dark pools swelled in the pale blue of her eyes, and the twist of her brow hinted her sudden understanding.

So, seeking to comfort her, he opted for talking this out. “Last night—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a hand to her face. “I changed my mind, Chip.”

She opened her eyes, the sensual haziness from before gone, while she pushed at his shoulder, gesturing for him to give her space. “This is so humiliating. I’m rushing things again, aren’t I?”

“Again?” His stomach clenched, and he settled in beside her, pitching his elbows over his bent knees, his eyes battling the sunlit water’s glare. “So, throwing yourself at men is just a normal afternoon activity for you, is it?”

She gave a light chuckle, even though he didn’t turn to look at her, because heaviness still filled his stomach. Despite what others seemed to think, sometimes his brain was his worst enemy. Maybe he’d been wrong to stop kissing her long enough to think.

“Not in the physical sense that you’re probably thinking. So congratulations, Chip.” She gave him a gentle fist bump at his shoulder, not too dissimilar to when she’d congratulated him on his kissing skills, her new levity filling him with hope. “You’re special in that department.” Though he turned to her again, she gave a tight shrug and gazed at the water, as if looking at him directly was too much of a challenge. “For a time there, I thought that being less backward about coming forward would solve the whole single in a small town thing, but… well… let’s just say that approach had its drawbacks.”

Her lips pressed into a flat line, suggesting emotional pain, though he had the vague backstory on Dean and could understand love was hard to come by. Even in a big city, with a huge population to draw dates from, much less a tiny place like Harlow. That he would soon leave her for Boston only proved her point.

He had no soothing or useful advice to offer, so he simply reached out and pressed a hand over hers. She lifted her gaze from the water to their hands joined on the grass, her focus gradually drifting up to him, the sun turning the blue in her eyes a silvery hue. “I’m sorry, Chip. I just figured kissing you was worth a shot.”

Ouch! A shot at what exactly?

Despite the thoughts rushing his brain, her rueful smile twisted with mischief, drawing from him a chuckle. “This isn’t a game of darts, Ally. I didn’t stop because I thought we wouldn’t get along. I stopped because we get along too well, and maybe it’s worth hashing some details out before we go ahead and break our own hearts.”

She took her turn to chuckle and did so while shaking her head, the weak ache in his chest suggesting that broken hearts might be inevitable here. No matter what, Ally would play on his mind far into the foreseeable future.

“You always were the reasonable one.” She twisted her palm and wrapped her fingers around his hand.

“Sure, but you’re impulsive and, therefore, way more exciting.” He reached out and nudged her chin with his knuckle.

She wrinkled her nose in a tease, and an unusual silence took her over, her focus returning to the water. He let out a sigh, suddenly spent, and lay back on the grass, making sure to keep his hand linked to hers.

Water droplets rolled from her wet hair and down her back. Those droplets, and her unwillingness to stop them, somehow gave her an air of vulnerability. That she also sat with her legs folded beneath her, almost childlike, only added to the effect.

The years had given her something else, too, an element of idiosyncratic beauty. A beauty that extended beyond physical appeal, encompassing the little quirks even she still seemed to struggle to wear at all times.

She swiveled back to him now, and he didn’t even care that she’d caught him staring; instead, he patted the ground beside him and invited her to lay next to him.

“I don’t ever want to think of you with regret.” He stared up at the cloudless sky, her head now rested on his shoulder. All those years he’d spent away from her were regret enough. “What happens when I go back to Boston?”

She’d talked about travel, but did he have a right to pitch the idea of her visiting him Boston? Even if she did, longterm, he had no intentions of staying in Harlow, and asking her to bridge the distance alone didn’t seem fair.

She didn’t answer right away, but when she did, her voice held a far too casual lightness. “I can handle it.”

He eyed her, her pupils wide and looking far from carefree, while that same conversation about travel had seen her confirm how Harlow would always be the place she returned to. “You think so?”

She shook her head and let out a ragged laugh. “No. I’ll be crushed, but I spoke with Emilia, and she said getting closer to you was worth the risk, so I thought––”

“So I have Emilia to thank for our little make-out fest?” He rolled over to his side and raised a brow, all while she turned to face him too.

“I don’t regret kissing you last night. I don’t regret what almost just happened now, do you?”

His heart lurched, and he reached out to sweep a strand of wet hair off her cheek. As much as he tried to summon the will to say he’d been wrong to touch her on both occasions, she lay close enough to kiss now, and the burn in his body called him a liar. So, the best he could muster was a weak shake of his head.

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