Page 53 of The Fiance Dilemma

My first impulse was to argue. I hadn’t pulled Matthew into this arrangement out of some selfish plot to get him naked. But I knew he knew that. He was baiting me, he was trying to prove a point only because I refused to admit it. Because I’d opened up, taken a step outside my cocoon of safety, and then gone right back into it. But didn’t he understand? How terrifying it was for me to peek my head out? Especially when it was him on the other side. Especially when he saw so much, knew so much, was so deep into the tangle I was. Especially when he was a little right.

Thing was, every step I walked forward could be run right back. I was excellent at that.

“So what if you are?” I told him, raising my hands andwatching them cross the space between our chests. Two could play this game, and he should have known that. Softly, I placed my palms on his shoulders. Then dragged them down his arms, slowly, deliberately, my fingernails grazing first the fabric, then his skin, making him shudder under them. “Maybe I wanted you to help me. But I would have asked any stranger walking by.” My tongue peeked out, wetting my bottom lip. “Are you not familiar with my track record?”

Matthew’s brows came down in thought, but his gaze was unfocused, distracted. “Stop talking about yourself like that.”

I let my fingers slip inside his sleeves, then dragged my hands up, basking in the way Matthew’s breath caught. “Like what?”

“Like you’re some selfish monster,” he said, voice deep and rocky. My determination wobbled, and Matthew took the chance. His hands moved from their spot on the chair to my sides. He pulled my body closer. Our noses almost brushed. “I know what you’re doing.”

My heart raced, the closeness of his face, our bodies, too much too soon and too little all at once. “And what is that?”

“Distracting me,” he said. “Hiding.” And in response, in rebellion, my hands moved against his skin, rounding his arms, holding on to him, as if he was going to stand up and leave now that he’d called me out. The quality of his gaze changed, the sharpness softening. “But that’s all right, isn’t it?” he whispered, voice tender, the hands at my waist trailing up gently. As if he was soothing me. “We’ll hide behind your rules. I won’t break any until you ask me.”

That deafening flutter in my belly rioted at his words. Ask him? My chest heaved. The feel of his skin under my hands, the feeling of him filling the space, the weight of his words, overwhelming me. I—

A throat cleared.

We both froze.

“Your hands cold, Josie?” Grandpa Moe grumbled. “Because you can wear mittens, if that’s the case. You don’t need to probe him like you’re searching for lice.”

I snatched my hands back with a sigh. Then turned to look at Grandpa. He was standing under the doorframe, in a robe, holding an empty bottle of rosé. “Lice?” I deadpanned. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he answered, before shooting Matthew a warning glance. Matthew’s hands fell off my waist. “Smart choice, kiddo.”

Matthew nodded his head, but not with shame or reluctance. “I’ll be better next time, sir.”

Both Grandpa and I arched our brows, the same two words causing the same reaction for vastly different reasons.Next time.As if me sitting on a chair in the cradle of his legs while having my hands all over him would happen again.

“You walked here?” Grandpa asked Matthew. He nodded. “I’ll drive you home, then. If you’re done with whatever you were doing.” He shot me a pointed glance. “I’m done with my show and my rosé doesn’t have any alcohol in it anyway. She’s been sneaking me fizzy pink watered-down juice.”

“Gee,” I let out. “And here I thought the fact you run through it like we have it on tap meant you liked it.”

Matthew stood up, his body unfolding before me, sidetracking me. I leaned my head back to look at him, finding his eyes on me.

“We wouldn’t have an aesthetic,” he announced. “Beautiful things shouldn’t be boxed. It eventually dims their light.”

My lips parted with a hundred questions, and in the same heartbeat, Matthew’s head dipped.

He brushed a kiss against my jaw. “I really had to,” he whispered. “In case I don’t survive the drive.”

And then he was off, joining Grandpa at the door.

I… I should have been concerned with so many things, really. Like how I’d wanted to grab his arm and stop him from leaving.How I’d wanted to ask him to kiss my cheek again. Stay a little longer. But I couldn’t. Not when I was trying to decipher what he’d just said.

Beautiful things shouldn’t be boxed. It eventually dims their light.

Had he meant me? Or us?

CHAPTER TWELVE

The hammer slipped out of my hand and hit me on the foot before dropping to the ground.

“Fudgenuggets,”I muttered, climbing down the ladder and picking the tool up off the ground.

With a sigh, I walked back to the bench Robbie had set outside the barn. Then I sat on top of it with a little jump. I’d done enough of these to know when it was time to take a break. Being perched on a ladder for an hour straight, hanging string after string of lights until my fingers were numb, usually was a hint.

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