Page 60 of Fire and Icing

He’s just Dustin.

I clear my throat.

“Just what?” He smirks.

“Did you need something?” I ask him.

“Um, yeah.” He pushes off the jamb and pulls a paper out from his back pocket. “We got an email from the producers. We have to sign these and turn them in tonight. Your gran said I could find you at the bookstore. I didn’t realize you were in a book club.”

“I’m a woman of mystery.”

I raise my brows and look at him with an expression I haven’t given a man in a long, long while. Am I flirting? With Dustin? No. I’m not.

“Are you now?” He smiles wider. “Intriguing.”

“No. It’s not that intriguing.” I extend my hand and he places the papers in it.

His fingers brush across my palm and a tingle rushes up my arm.

I can’t help my reaction to someone tickling my palm.

It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve gotten chills straightening the laundry when a silk pillowcase brushed against my arm.

I walk over to the counter where Daisy has some pens in a cup. Once I’ve signed the papers, I hand them back to Dustin.

“Thank you for going out of your way to bring these to me,” I tell him sincerely. “You didn’t have to.”

“I kind of did.” He winks.

His eyes rise to a spot behind me. When I turn, the entire book club is gathered in a line like the von Trapp family singers.

“Well, I’ll get going,” Dustin says, drawing my eyes back to his.

“Okay. Thanks again,” I say.

Before I know what’s happening, Dustin leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. It’s soft and warm and … nope. It’s for show. For them. For the contest. But there’s something about the way Dustin is looking at me—like I’m not just the woman he’s pretending to like. Like he might mean it.

And when he pulls back, my whole body is chanting,He kissed me! He kissed me!The spot on my cheek feels softer and different.

He casually touches my shoulder, and with his other hand, he tucks a strand of my hair back. I shudder. His eyes are on mine, along with—I’m quite sure—all the rest of the eyes in the room. The moment feels too intimate and exposed. But, when I look into his eyes, his gaze settles the chatter in my brain. He leans in. I think he’s going to actually kiss me. I want to … No, I don’t want to kiss Dustin. I don’t want to kiss anyone. Kisses lead to feelings and feelings lead to blurred lines and possibilities that lead to commitments—commitments that can be easily broken.

His cheek brushes mine as he moves to put his mouth right next to my ear. His face is warm and slightly scratchy. He smells like a home when the fire has been burning all day during a storm.

“Play along with me,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re doing great.”

I can’t help myself. I giggle. This whole situation is so absurd. In what universe is a man like him leaning in and whispering anything in my ear while all my friends watch us as if we’re the couple of the year?

Dustin pulls away, smiling at my reaction as if he just told me a private joke and it hit just right.

“I’ll see you later,” I say.

“You will,” he assures me with a wink.

He raises his hand and waves to my friends. “Sorry to interrupt.”

They erupt into assurances of “It’s okay!” and “Come by anytime.”

He pauses and glances into my eyes one more time, and then he turns and walks down the steps to his truck.

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