Page 86 of The Fiance Dilemma

Matthew was one-hundred-percent loving this now. He just was. I knew it.

“Fine,” I said when he didn’t answer. “You want to be smug. Then you’d better be smug while you run.”

And before he could react, I lowered Sebastian to the groundand released him as gently as I could. A clucking battle cry left him, and right as I was breaking into a sprint, Matthew snatched my wrist.

We ran in the direction of the house, the squeal leaving me, thanks to the shot of adrenaline making me sound like a fool. As predicted, Sebastian chased us. Poor thing. I really needed to talk to Robbie to see if we should just let him pick his home. I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes getting a little distracted at the sight of Matthew by my side, roaming a little too low, a little too long.Andtotally missing a log lying somewhere around the backyard. I felt myself trip, cruising the air for a second that stretched, and just before I fell, Matthew’s hands were there, swooping me up.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” he said, pushing up those porch steps with me in his arms, princess-style. “You weren’t kissing me, Josie.”

Brown eyes snatched mine just as we crossed the threshold of the door. He planted me right down. Chests heaving, my jean-clad hips pressed against his. Him. I audibly gulped. Those sweats did nothing to conceal him. The hard outline pressing against the softness of my lower belly. And I didn’t want to acknowledge how good he felt against me like that, how solid, how enthralling or how thoroughly aroused I was, too, for no other reason than him touching me.

That wasn’t a kiss.Hadn’t it been?

My palms fell on his chest, making my breath catch with the sound that left him. A little growl. It made me move into him. I wanted to drag my fingers down. Up. All over him. He made me want so many things, this man. He made me breathless with things I thought I didn’t need.

I stepped away.

Matthew’s gaze flickered down, landing on my hands still splayed on his chest. He reached out for my left, brushing his fingers over my skin. Pausing for a heartbeat over the ring. His ring. Myring. He kept touching it. Looking at it. Making something tighten inside me.

“You weren’t kissing me,” Matthew repeated. “Not really. That wasn’t our first kiss. You’d know if it was.”

Our first kiss.

My heart jumped and plummeted to the ground. All the same. It had been, though. I’d kissed him, even if it had been just a peck.

“Don’t worry.” I retrieved my hands, let them fall to my sides. His eyes found mine again. “I didn’t come here for a repeat. This is not about that. I came here for something else.”

Matthew retrieved the tote bag from the spot beside my truck and returned to the cabin, leaving it with me before heading to the shower with a promise to be quick.

He hadn’t been. Matthew was in that shower for a long time. But I was grateful anyway because I didn’t think I could have done this with him looking all sweaty and shiny and… distracting, sitting across from me. So by the time he returned, I’d had enough time to get everything I’d brought with me neatly organized on the kitchen island, prepare coffee, and connect my phone to the speakers to play my deep-focus playlist. I’d return the rooster to the Vasquezes’ tomorrow.

Today we had work to do.

Matthew’s steps were heavy and slow as he approached again. He hadn’t brushed his wet hair, the usually dirty blond locks darker and messy, some falling over his forehead. I wanted to sweep them back, see every crease in his forehead up close, ask him why he looked so serious, and thank him for discarding the contacts in favor of his glasses. It wasn’t right. My brain was clearly still malfunctioning from that horrible kiss.

That wasn’t our first kiss.

“I’ve prepared coffee,” I told him with what I hoped was an easy smile.

Matthew’s features softened briefly as he poured himself an Americano before coming to a stop at my left. A wave of peppermint and soap andhimhit me right in the gut, and ugh, I wanted to lean into his chest so badly. Brush my cheek against the sweatshirt he was wearing. Just enough to feel him through the cotton. Maybe hear his heartbeat. Perched on a stool, I sat at the perfect height to do that.

“Those are your muffins.”

My cheeks warmed thetiniestbit. We both knew that they were my apology muffins. But if I admitted it out loud, if I brought up that night at Andrew’s estate, we’d talk about that kiss again. And I didn’t think I could do it. The muffins weren’t so much about that, they were more about me feeling responsible for Matthew getting so upset over the cameras. I was responsible for his picture being in theHerald,too. Both things could have been avoided if I’d listened to Bobbi. If I wasn’t so naïve. Hence the muffins.

“I also brought the kale chips you love so much,” I said, pointing at the pink container I kept them in. A breath left him, hitting me on the top of my head. The urge to turn and look at his face was strong, but I was stronger. “Please, take a seat. We have lots of ground to cover.”

Matthew didn’t sit. “What’s all of this, Josie?”

“I want to help you,” I told him. “With your job hunt. I know you might have seen most of these. But you said you’d let me know if you found something, and you haven’t. So you can tell me where you’re at with it, and we can take it from there.” I reached out for one of the binders. “I’ve printed out job ads and classified them by state and field.” I threw it open. “We have Illinois, and then positions that have to do with reporting or content or— Oh, there was aneditor for creative ads and media that sounded so cool.” I scanned the sleeves until I found it. “Here.”

I glanced at Matthew and he looked… pensive. Quiet.

“Don’t worry,” I said, pulling at the section divider. “There’s a section for Massachusetts. Most of the ads are for reporter positions.Boston Guardian, Boston Globe,a national media group I can’t remember the name of… but that one’s part-time.” I stole a new glance at him. No change. “You have a nice face and can be very charming. I think you’d look great on camera if you’re open to broadcast journalism?”

Matthew set the mug on the kitchen island. He scratched the back of his neck. “Is there a section for North Carolina?”

“Yes,” I said, a jolt to my chest. “I thought you might want to be close to Adalyn and Cameron.” I kept my gaze on the binder. “And there’s one for Florida, too. I know you met Adalyn in Miami, so I thought you might want to go back?”

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