Page 109 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

“We made out in the woods on the way home.”

I watch him carefully for any signs of jealousy or disappointment. His smile seems genuine. “Was it everything a girl could hope for?”

I kick off my shoes. “It was good. I like him. He’s good. His family’s great. Maybe these sorts of relationships really can happen.”

“Sure looks like it.”

I run my hand along the dark-green bedspread, unwilling to hold his gaze. “It’s only been a few days. I barely know him. But it’s promising.”

“Not something unwise?”

My head snaps up. That was the subject line of my email about the night with Zachery. He can’t know about that.

But he does. His face is frozen, like he didn’t mean to say it.

“Did you read my emails?” I want to jump up, shout at him, but I feel paralyzed.

He swings his legs around to move closer to me. “No. Not one. I saved a draft of a work email I wrote for you and saw some subject lines. I shut your computer down immediately.”

My chest heaves with fear. I have always kept the emails on my laptop so no one would ever see them. But I handed it right over to Zachery.

“Kelsey, do you want to talk about them?”

I can’t quite catch my breath. I try to slow down, but I’m gulping air.

Zach pulls me to him. “Breathe with me. You’re okay. I didn’t read them. I wouldn’t.”

He presses my head to his chest, exaggerating his breathing. I work to match him. Long inhale, long exhale.

His hand slides through my hair, making my scalp tingle.

He feels so good. His chest. His arms. His unbelievably good smell.

A pulse beats down low.

I want him. I want him again. I want him always.

I can’t.

A sob forms in my throat, and I’m unable to stop it before it escapes.

“Kels?”

He can’t know this emotion is about him. I rush out an explanation. “I started writing emails to my mother in high school.”

His hands stroke my back and my hair. “Do they help?”

“Always. The farm was so hard after she died. Dad was so terrible. Work, chores, get up early, make no mistakes. You couldn’t complain, and you could never cry.”

“What would he do?”

“Make you work harder. We all learned quickly to hide our feelings.”

“So you wrote the emails.”

I nod against his chest. “I don’t do it as often now.”

“But you did the night we were together.”

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