Page 8 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

“It’s early,” he scoffed. Then he glanced around the basement, making sure it was empty so no one, and especially Steve, would overhear. “We’re meeting up at Murphy’s as soon as the party’s over.”

I pressed my lips together. “I, uh, don’t have a fake ID.”

“Oh.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the doorframe, ignoring the fact he was letting bugs in. “Well . . . it was nice seeing you again, Sydney.”

His brown eyes focused on my face, his attention sliding down from my eyes and onto my lips. He peered at them like he was considering what I might taste like. It made my heart skip faster, and the air around us went thin, leaving me breathless.

“Yeah, you too,” I said in a rush.

Abruptly, he straightened as if a thought had just occurred to him. “You know what? Let me walk you to your car.”

He lived in the nicest neighborhood in town, and my car was parked only a few houses down the street, so this was unnecessary, but if he was giving me the opportunity to be alone with him, even for a few short minutes, I wasn’t going to say no.

I gave a bashful smile. “Sure.”

He lingered beside me as I said goodbye to Colin and Madison, and my brother barely kept the unease from his expression, giving Preston all the side-eye possible. He didn’t like his friend’s proximity to me, which again, I found weird.

Wasn’t Preston his best friend?

We went out through the gate and followed the stone path up the embankment around the house, and the sounds of the party faded into the distance. Or maybe I couldn’t hear them anymore because a voice inside my head grew louder, drowning everything out.

Now’s your chance, it chanted.

We were silent as we strolled down the driveway and into the quiet street, but my heart beat like a war drum. It was trying to pump me up, and blood rushed loudly in my ears.

Every step we took brought us closer to my mother’s car I’d borrowed and closer to my window of opportunity closing.

I’d never asked a guy out before.

It was because I was shy to a fault, and if a guy didn’t make a move, no matter how much I wanted him to, things never went anywhere. That couldn’t happen tonight. I wasn’t going to carry regret about not shooting my shot with him.

My racing heart climbed into my throat, but I was able to push the words past it. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Preston’s leisurely pace slowed to a stop, and he turned to face me with interest lighting his eyes. “Sure.”

Oh, god. There was no turning back now. My voice dropped to a whisper. “I had a crush on you when I was in high school.”

He blinked back his surprise, and then a pleased smile curled across his lips. “You did?”

A single, subtle step was all it took for him to invade my space. I stared up, struggling to keep it together, and nodded quickly. He wasn’t insanely tall or broad, but he was impressive nonetheless. He’d been on the swim team in high school, and in college he’d grown and filled out his frame.

Had he improved himself in other areas besides just his looks over the last four years? I longed to find out.

It was interesting how he examined me now. As if I were suddenly brand new. Or at least someone he now saw as a viable option. Heat smoldered in his eyes, and I stood utterly still as he lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips across my jawline.

His words were low and full of seduction. “What should we do about that?”

Thought vaporized into nothingness, and all the air left my body in a burst as he leaned in, bringing his mouth down on mine.

Holy shit.

It took me a full second to process what was happening. Preston was kissing me, in the middle of the street, where we’d be blocking traffic if there were any. But it was just us, all alone.

His lips were soft and warm and . . . persuasive.

Not that I needed much convincing. When his lips parted, urging me to do the same, I followed his lead and welcomed his tongue into my mouth. The slick glide of it made goosebumps flood down my arms, and electricity wash through my body, all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

The kiss started as just a gentle meeting of our mouths, but then his hands got involved. He threaded one into my hair and the other grasped my hip, pulling me against him. It held me in place so he could deepen the kiss, controlling the angle of my head so he could slip his tongue deeper into my mouth.

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