Page 39 of Lead Me Knot

He stops, tilts his head, and grins. “You want this shirt off, Shortcake?”

“I want all of it off.” My core tingles in anticipation.

Pushing me to the wall, he uses it as leverage to take the shirt off over his head. God, I missed these shoulders so much, the muscles, the divot on the corner, highlighting his hard work.Just all of him.

I throw my head back as he kisses across my shoulder. His fingers are deft as the button of my jean shorts pops open, and the zipper is forced halfway down. I start on his neck as he shifts us back into action. Then I come to my senses and throw my arms out wide. The tips of my fingers grip the doorframe, and I breathe, “Stop.”

His head straightens on his neck as his eyes latch onto mine. He’s breathing as hard as I am when he asks, “What is it?”

“I have a reservation arriving any minute.”

When his brows pull together, his eyes briefly dart from my lips to my eyes. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know what he’d rather be doing. I’d rather be kissing him, too. “A reservation for what?”

I don’t know why that makes me laugh. It’s probably this carefree feeling he evokes in me. It’s probably him being here and kissing me like it was his top priority upon returning. And I don’t mind that one bit. I can’t say I haven’t thought about how this reunion would be or even go—if he would be mad how we left it or understand the mixed emotions.

“The apartment,” I say, lowering my feet back to the floor. “It’s rented for the entirety of the festival.”

His head shakes as it juts back on his neck. “What are you talking about?”

My smile is wiped away as confusion sets in. “I’m talking about this apartment we’re standing in right now. Someone rented it out for top dollar.” I grin, as this investment is already starting to pay off. “You need to get out of here before they show up.”

“Who?”

“What do you mean who?” I laugh again as I slip out of his arms but flatten my palms to his torso to start working him back toward the door. His skin is warm, his chest hard. I bend to pick up his discarded shirt and toss it to him. “The renter. Mickey something.”

His expression morphs from confusion to a rogue grin that makes me want to kiss him again. I don’t because if I do, I won’t want to stop kissing those lips until I’ve come. “Baylor, you need to go. We can catch up later.”

“Baylor?”My mom . . .her footsteps are heard as she treks the staircase. “You still up here?”

“Shit,” he whispers, pulling his shirt back on over his head and running a hand through his hair. “What do we do?”

I start to laugh quietly so my mom can’t hear, which starts to make Baylor laugh as well. I whisper, “And here I thought we were adults, but Mom shows up, and we’re suddenly afraid of getting caught.” I fidget with my hair to smooth it down before remembering the button of my jean shorts is still undone. I start to button them back up and silently mouth, “Go. Go. Go.”

I hop-step away from him just as my mom reaches the top platform. Her eyes go from him to me and then back to him, and she smiles. Holding out a large box, she says, “Here are your shortcakes. Do you want me to put them on a tab, or would you like to pay now?”

“You didn’t have to bring those all the way up here, Mrs—” She scolds him with a glare. I know that look very well. “Peaches,” he corrects. “I was just about to come back down.”

“Figured you kids were having a nice visit, but didn’t want you to forget your order.” She glances at me with a proud grin. “I know my Lauralee can be distracting.”

“She sure can be.”

I shoot him my own glare, but that wry grin sitting satisfactorily on his face tells me he has no regrets whatsoever. He’s going to give this away if he’s not careful.

Feeling more awkward than ever, I put out my hand to rest on the peninsula but miss the counter and slant sideways. Quick to catch myself, I ask, “Shortcake, you say?”

Catching the amusement on Baylor’s face elicits my embarrassment that he caught my major miss as well as my mom. She says, “Everything okay?”

Inwardly rolling my eyes at myself, I try to shake it off and try again. This time looking anything but nonchalant as I use the counter to hold me up. “Fine. Totally fine. Great. Incredible.”

Baylor starts shaking his head, looking down under the lightest chuckle. Even he knows I’m struggling, so he says, “Let me take those from you, Peaches.”

My mom grins like he’s her knight in shining armor. I can’t say he doesn’t make me feel the same. His mouth on mine made my heart thunder in my chest. There’s still a rumbling, though having your parent interrupt like you’re two teenagers trying to sneak around and have sex put a slight damper on our momentum. That and the renter. I check my watch. He’s late.

She says, “Baylor here was so sweet and bought all the shortcakes for his family.”

He takes possession of the box. “Don’t want to show up empty-handed when I have the best dessert in the Hill Country to bring them.” Glancing at me, he says, “Delicious shortcake.”

I could crumble to the floor like the pound cake that plays second fiddle to the fresh strawberries. His words are so devilishly delectable, I eat them right up and am ready for seconds.

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