Page 77 of Beat of Love
Amelia stood between them, arms crossed, a sponge dangling from one hand. “If you two would stop goofing off, we might actually finish this.”
Rafferty’s boots crunched over the gravel, drawing their attention.
Amelia spotted him first. “Hey, Raff!”
He raised a hand in greeting, pushing a smile into place. “Morning.”
Preston straightened. “You want in?”
Rafferty’s heart pinched. He almost said yes. Almost.
He shook his head. “And spoil your fun?” he said instead, even managing a low laugh.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him like she didn’t quite buy it but let it go.
“Great way to start the season, Preston. You guys really played well.”
Preston squinted into the morning glare. “You watched?” he asked, surprise tugging up one corner of his mouth.
Rafferty gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Wouldn’t have missed it.” The game had been an hour’s drive away, but after his session with Sykes, watching a group of boys play their hearts out had been a welcome distraction — even if he’d stood alone in the shadows of the bleachers.
Preston looked down, trying to play it cool, but the slight puff of pride in his chest gave him away.
Rafferty saw it, felt it, and knew he’d done the right thing.
“Mom’s inside,” Olivia said, nodding toward the back porch. “Making breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
As he climbed the steps, he felt the weight of every footfall. The pull of something he wanted but wasn’t ready for.
He paused in the doorway between the mudroom and kitchen, drinking in the sight of Brandy-Lyn swaying to an upbeat country song while whisking something in a bowl.
And he wished, oh, how he wished he was able to walk up behind her and kiss that exposed shoulder of hers.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, he stepped into the kitchen. “Hey.”
Brandy-Lyn yelped and jerked back from the counter, her arm — still gripping the whisk — slicing through the air and flinging batter in a wild arc.
“Argh!” she gasped, stumbling a step. “Rafferty! You about scared the life right outta me!”
Rafferty raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes flicking to the glob of batter now sliding down a cabinet door. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She blew out a breath, chest rising and falling, then looked at the mess. “Look what you made me do.”
“I’m pretty sure you did that all on your own,” he said, biting back a grin.
There was a smudge of flour on her cheek. It begged to be kissed off.
He didn’t.
Didn’t even trust himself to brush it away.
She stood and, eyes narrowing slightly, broke the silence. “What are you doing here, Raff?”
“I’m, uh …” He cleared his throat. “I’m seeing someone.”
She froze. Blinked. The color drained from her face — pale like that flour on her skin. “Seeing …” she repeated, voice small. She swallowed. “Someone?”
