Page 8 of Love in the Net
I bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot, but it’s no use. I’ve just been kissed by Liam O’Brien, and it was everything I didn’t know I needed. And judging by the way he’s looking at me, his hands still resting on my waist like he’s unwilling to let go, this is only the beginning.
4
The buttery scentof baking Pumpkin Howl-a-Ween Bites fills the air in my little bakery, but instead of feeling satisfied, I’m one burnt batch away from losing my mind. Correction: I’ve already lost my mind. The evidence is currently in the trashcan—a second batch of burnt treats that I can’t even get Waffles to sniff.
All at once, the scent changes, and I spin from where I’ve been tweaking the recipe.
Fine, I’d lost myself in thoughts of kissing Liam.
I glance at the timer, and it reads 00:00—I’ve missed the blasted beeping for so long, it’s stopped.
“Butter my biscuits.” I yank on the oven mitts and pull the tray out of the oven. The blackened biscuits stare back at me accusingly. I groan and dump the ruined batch into the compost bin, my shoulders sagging under the weight of a third failure.
Waffles whines, and I sigh over to him. “I know, bud.”
The fundraiser for our local dog shelter is this weekend, and I’m nowhere near prepared. I glance at the clock—it’s already late afternoon, and I’ve barely made a dent in the list of treats Ipromised to have ready. My mind is a chaotic mess, and I know exactly why. Or rather,who.
Liam O’Brien.
Ever since our kiss—no,kisses—my thoughts have been on a constant loop of his smile, his laugh, the way his lips felt against mine. It’s like my brain has been hijacked by a very attractive hockey player, and it’s wreaking havoc on my productivity.
Waffles barks from his bed by the counter, his big golden eyes watching me like he can sense my stress. He jumps up and trots over to the back door, where an assortment of leashes hang.
“You’re right.” I wipe my hands on my apron and then remove it. “We need a break. A walk will do us both good.”
Grabbing his leash, I clip it to his collar and head out the door, hoping the crisp autumn air will clear my head. The streets of Blue Ridge are quiet this time of day, the golden afternoon light filtering through the trees and casting long shadows on the pavement. It should be peaceful, but my thoughts are anything but.
As I walk, I replay my last conversation with Liam in my head. The way he’d looked at me, the way he’d kissed me—it felt real, like something worth holding on to. But then there’s the nagging voice in the back of my mind reminding me of his career, his travel schedule, his life that seems so different from mine.
What if I’m setting myself up for heartbreak?
Before I can spiral too far, Waffles yanks hard on the leash, nearly pulling me off my feet.
“Waffles.” I frown and dig in my heels. “Where are you going?”
He’s so nosy, and he’s got his face to the ground, determined to go toward the corner. Fine. Whatever. I round the corner and step right into my fantasy.
Because Liam’s standing in the front yard of the first house there, tossing a tennis ball for Bear and Scout. The sight of him in a fitted Buffaloes hoodie and joggers, his hair slightly tousled, is enough to send my heart into overdrive.
And, of course, Waffles barks excitedly and lunges toward Liam, pulling me along like a kite in a windstorm.
“Waffles, come on,” I shout, but it’s too late. My golden retriever barrels into the group, sending Bear and Scout into a frenzy of wagging tails and excited barks.
Liam turns toward me, his face lighting up with a smile that does nothing to calm my racing heart.
I drop the leash so I don’t get clotheslined and trip. “Hi,” I say breathlessly. “Sorry, he—uh—has a mind and a nose of his own.”
Liam chuckles, reaching down to scratch Waffles behind the ears. “It’s okay. He’s just saying hi.”
Chase appears from the garage, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in the scene. “Well, if it isn’t Mud Girl,” he teases, folding his arms. “Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon.”
I groan internally, but Liam shoots Chase a look that silences him faster than I thought possible.
He turns back to me. “What are you doing out here?”
“Trying to clear my head,” I admit, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “I’ve been baking all day for the fundraiser, and it’s not going great.”
“Need help?” His eyes soften with concern.
