Page 58 of Love Off-Limits
Tyler quickly found the hair tie, so quick I almost didn’t feel him do it. Points to him for not being weird and grabby-hands about it. Not that I would have ever expected grabby hands from Tyler. He’d never been anything but respectful with me. Flirty, yes. But never in a way that made me feel like he’d push a boundary if given the chance. He’d meant what he said after I’d talked to Flint. He wouldn’t kiss me again. Not unless I asked him to.
Another few seconds and he had my hair secured in a surprisingly competent ponytail. His hands dropped to my shoulders, and I stilled, my eyes closing. With him standing behind me, I couldn’t see him, but I could sense him, could feel him leaning in, could feel the exhale of his breath on my now-exposed neck.
I leaned back until my shoulder blades pressed against his chest, and his hands tightened on my shoulders at the contact, squeezing away another sliver of my resolve.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” I asked, turning my head so I could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt on my cheek.
“Jessica Harris,” he said. “My high school girlfriend. We were on the swim team together and one bus ride home from a long meet, we were bored, and she taught me how. Said I’d appreciate the lesson if I ever have daughters.”
“I appreciate her foresight.” I took a slow, deep breath, suddenly weary of fighting what felt so completely natural with him.
I cared about Stonebrook. I especially cared about my dad and what he thought, and I didn’t want to jeopardize the role I would play in Stonebrook’s future. But all that worry drifted away when I was with Tyler, faded into a hazy background that paled in comparison to the tangible reality of him warm and solid by my side. I wanted this. I wanted him close to me. “Tyler?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want—”
“How are things going in here?” Mom asked as she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Tyler jumped away from me faster than a hungry goat scrambling after a fresh bale of hay. I started stirring a little too vigorously, my eyes glued to the bowl on the counter in front of me.
Mom chuckled as she came fully into the room. “Don’t peel yourselves apart on my account. You’re welcome to pretend I’m not here as long as you don’t get distracted enough to ruin the soap.” She stepped up next to me and slipped a thermometer into the milk and lye mixture. “Nearly perfect,” she said. She nudged me with her shoulder. “I can take over here if y’all have something else you’d rather be doing.”
“Mom,” I said, my voice a little too breathy for my own good. “We weren’t...we aren’t...that’s not...”
She smirked. “Sure. And my favorite Golden Girl is Dorothy.”
I pressed my lips together. “You’re terrible.”
“Just honest. Something I don’t think you’re being right now.”
I shot a look over my shoulder to see Tyler watching our exchange. He smiled, but there was something behind his expression, like a storm brewing behind his eyes.
I gave the goat’s milk one final stir then slid the bowl forward. “I think this is ready for you to add the oils.” I peeled my rubber gloves off and set them on the counter next to my safety glasses. “I think I’d better go check on Calista and Perry to see if they need any help this afternoon.”
Mom frowned. “Oh, honey, don’t leave on my account. I’ll behave. I promise.”
I shook my head. She wasn’t the reason I needed to leave. Had she stayed out of the kitchen five seconds longer, had I been able to finish the sentence I’d started before she’d interrupted us, I would have told Tyler I didn’t want to stay away from him anymore. And then I would have been in his arms, my lips on his, my hands tangled in his hair. I knew that as well as I knew the best way to eat a tomato sandwich. (In August. Five seconds after you’ve pulled a sun-warm fully ripe tomato off the vine. On thick white bread with good mayo and plenty of salt. Just FYI.)
But when Mom had startled us apart, reality had crashed in on me fast and hard, and fear had squeezed my gut like a vice.
If I opened that door with Tyler? There wouldn’t be any coming back from it. Was that what I wanted? Or needed?
“It’s not you, Mom. This is a big wedding, and I know Calista is worried about handling everything. I’ll just check in and make sure she’s feeling okay.” I looked at Tyler. “You’re welcome to stay. I can walk to the farmhouse from here.”
“That’s all right. I’ll come. We can take the gator.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting from Mom, to me, then back again. “I’ll get Penelope and wait outside.” He reached out to shake my mom’s hand. “It was nice to see you, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
She waved his hand away and wrapped him in a hug. “Good gracious, you’re tall.” She pulled away and darted into the pantry. “Here,” she said, coming back with a bar of the citrus pine soap. “Take this. It’s Livie’s favorite.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He slipped out the door, and Mom turned to face me, her hands on her hips. “Baby—”
“Mom. Don’t.”
She shook her head, her expression firm. “Olivia Dove, why are you keeping a wall between you and that boy?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not.”
