Page 35 of The Secrets We Keep

I knew I’d been the first to do this specific maneuver, but he seemed to be the master at it. That single touch set my skin on fire.

“Thanks for making that cake the other day,” he said to Molly, carrying on a conversation while I tried to ignore the way his fingers slightly curled, brushing my palm. “I hadn’t expected a whole damn cake.”

Is he immune to this?

Does it not affect him at all?

“Oh, it was no trouble. I was happy to do it. Did they like it?” she asked.

He absently shrugged. “No idea,” he answered. “I just dropped it off at their door with a note.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “You just left it at the door? You didn’t even hang around to see the look on their face or?—”

“No.” His tone changed as a dark cloud seemed to loom over his head. “They didn’t need me hanging around on a day like that.”

“Well, it was generous of you nonetheless.”

It appeared, whatever or whoever they were talking about, that Macon didn’t seem to agree.

An awkward silence settled between the three of us, reminding me just how little I knew about Molly. I’d seen her around town, but that was all.

I’d never gotten the chance to meet her.

“We should do dinner,” I blurted out before I had a chance to consider what I was saying.

Both Macon and Molly looked at me with wide eyes. Molly at least had the decency to recover quickly, replacing her shock with an encouraging smile.

Macon, however?

He was looking at me like I’d just sprouted a second head.

A second head who was inviting everyone to dinner.

“Um…” I managed to say.Can’t take it back now.“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “Macon and I were just talking about how I don’t know anyone on the island.”

His eyebrow rose just the tiniest bit, and I knew he was fighting to keep it together.

“And I thought, who better to start with than you?”

Molly stared briefly at me, and then her eyes traveled to Macon.

I could see the indecision all over her face.

Was it me? Maybe I’d overestimated our budding friendship and just made everything super weird?

“That sounds great,” Molly finally said, sounding genuinely excited. “But I have to make one request.” Her hand rested on her small baby bump, and a sheepish smile formed on her lips.

“Sure,” I said. “Anything.”

“Let me host it?” she said, and before I could even open my mouth to protest, she beat me to it. “It’s off-season, and the inn is almost empty at the moment, and I’m going stir-crazy. This basket is an example of what happens when I have nothing to do. When I say I want to host it, I’m not asking to be nice.”

I looked up to Macon, who hadn’t said a thing. He still had a hold of my pinkie, that thumb slowly rubbing the skin above my wrist. His touch sent electricity down my spine, and he still seemed completely unaffected.

In fact, since I’d blurted out my idea about the would-be dinner party, his facial features had gone almost completely neutral.

What is going on up there in that head of yours, Macon Green?

“Okay, sure,” I answered, deciding for the both of us.

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