Kiss Me Not
Author: Hart, Emma
Date: 2019-08-27
Publisher: Emma Hart

Table of Contents

Title Page

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE – HALLEY

CHAPTER TWO – HALLEY

CHAPTER THREE – HALLEY

CHAPTER FOUR – PRESTON

CHAPTER FIVE – HALLEY

CHAPTER SIX – HALLEY

CHAPTER SEVEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER EIGHT – PRESTON

CHAPTER NINE – HALLEY

CHAPTER TEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER ELEVEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER TWELVE – PRESTON

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – PRESTON

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – HALLEY

CHAPTER NINETEEN – PRESTON

CHAPTER TWENTY – HALLEY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - HALLEY

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – HALLEY

EPILOGUE – HALLEY

THE END

KISS ME TONIGHT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

KISS ME NOT

Emma Hart

Copyright © by Emma Hart 2019

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Design by Emma Hart

For Jennifer Rebecca, Alyssa Garcia, and Stacy Garcia.

Thank you for being the three best friends a girl could ask for.

And not being obvious in your cross-Atlantic eye-rolling when I ask you yet another question.

CHAPTER ONE – HALLEY

Nobody Needs An Orange Jumpsuit

Sometimes, I just have to tell myself that it isn’t worth the jail time.

It’s something I’ve told myself a lot over the years, especially during high school. There was that time Lindsay Rinna paid her younger brother to put a snake in my locker just because she knew I was deathly afraid of them and she thought I had a crush on her boyfriend.

I totally did have a crush on him, but was it worth the panic attack I had after?

No. No, it was not. And, just like she wasn’t now, Lindsay was not worth any jail time, no matter how many times I imagined pushing her in front of a bus.

Look. We’ve all done it, okay?

There’s also the time when I was seventeen and having a bitch of a period, and my stepbrother had eaten my ice-cream.

That was the closest I’d actually come to committing murder. It was a hormone-induced rage, for what it was worth, and my memory of the event was now somewhat blurry. That said, I do remember throwing a spoon at him. I might have cut open his forehead.

He ate my ice-cream.

On my period.

Actually, that’s one situation that would have been worth the jail time.

Also, my stepbrother is an asshole, so he deserved that shit.

Now, I was standing in the middle of the park, looking at the kissing booth that would be my home for next week. As of Monday, between the hours of midday and seven p.m., my ass would be parked in this glorified tent, and my lips would be offered up as free game to anyone who was willing to put two dollars in my bucket.

I, Halley Dawson, was the Creek Falls Kissing Booth Champion. This year was my fifth year in the contest, and I had no intentions of losing my crown anytime soon.

I took my role as resident kisser very seriously. Seriously—I just about had stock in toothpaste companies at this point. My dentist was probably the best-paid dentist in town, and I had an ashamedly large collection of mints and gum in my apartment waiting for this moment.

As for being the reigning champion, well, it wasn’t like it had any kind of effect on my life in general. I was woefully single to the point that the only date I had was with the raccoons who lived in the woods behind my house.

Hey, they were reliable. They showed up every night on my back porch at ten p.m. sharp for their peanut butter sandwiches.

We had a bit of a deal. I left them sandwiches every night, and they’d leave my trashcan alone.

Well, I think we had a deal. Since raccoons didn’t speak English, it was purely speculation on my part since they hadn’t knocked the trashcan over for a few weeks.

Of course, this weird little relationship played into me being single. Thanks to my eccentric grandmother, I was now known as the Racoon Lady of Creek Falls. Not that anyone ever said anything about it to my face, given that my father was the mayor.

Yep. Between that and being the kissing booth champion, there was no way I was getting married anytime soon.

Or dated, for that matter.

It was fine. I liked being single. I had the entire king-size bed to myself, and nobody was going to eat my chocolate.

Also, thanks to the invention of porn websites and sex toys, I could happily handle my own needs. Shoot, I didn’t even need the toy.

I had fingers.

Ahem.

Moving on.

Upkeep of the kissing booth was solely my responsibility—and that of my competitor’s when they showed up. It was our job to ensure that the money was kept safe so it could all be donated to a local charity at the end of the summer fair.

The winner would be the person who raised the most money—whoever kissed the most people.

Last year my competition had been easy. It was old Mr. Hawkins who owned the bait shop on the town square, and he’d gotten impetigo on his lower lip halfway through the week.

It had seriously damaged his ability to kiss anyone, but he’d made it work. He’d purchased a lip-shaped stamp and some ink and stamped everyone’s hand instead.

The kids had loved it.

I was almost a little sad he hadn’t won just because of that, but he’d stopped by the library last week and left the stamp with me.

Now, the kids could choose a kiss on the cheek or a stamp on the hand.

I just wished I could give the pensioners the same option. Most of those insisted on a genuine peck.

It was the worst thing about doing this.

I shuddered at the thought of it. I had some serious mental preparation to do, just in case Horace Peters decided he wanted to stop by on a daily basis again.

Last year, he’d almost been arrested for harassment.

I really had to call my dad and make sure there was someone stationed by the booth at all times…

I stepped forward and gripped the gaudy, purple curtains that were tied together by a huge, gold rope. If you didn’t know this was the booth, you’d think it was the home of a psychic or a palm reader. Tarot, maybe.

But, no. It was where the kissing happened.

I untied the heavy knot and let the rope fall to the sides. The thick ends hit the grass with a thud, and I only just got my foot out of the way before one hit my toes. I’d made that mistake once before.

It’d sprained my toe.

It wasn’t an experience I was keen to repeat.

I pulled open the curtains and coughed. They were musty, and the inside of the tent smelled like mothballs. It was hard to believe that it was taken down at the end of each summer and put up just before—they had to be storing this stuff in a one-hundred-year-old clothing trunk and then putting the trunk in a deserted cellar or attic somewhere.

I batted at the air in front of my nose and looked around. The wooden stage toward the back of the tent was set up, but that was all that had been done. Setting chairs and everything else out would be my job, but the first thing that had to be done was to air out these horrible velvet curtains and clean everything up.

“Jesus Christ, this smells like my grandma’s house.”

Laughing, I turned at the sound of the voice of one of my best friends. Reagan’s face was scrunched up in disgust as she looked around.

“Yep,” I replied, adjusting my bright red glasses. “They still haven’t bothered to wash the fabric. Where’s Ava?”

“Looking for food. As always.” Reagan grinned and tucked her bright purple hair behind her ear. “I told her the stalls won’t be open yet, but she didn’t listen to me.”

I snorted. “You know she’s been seeing Butler Ferris on and off. His dad has the barbecue stall this year. She’ll just head over there, twirling her hair, smile a little, and she’ll show up with half a brisket, three hamburgers, six hot dogs, and three pulled pork sandwiches. Plus coleslaw and salad.”

“Huh. You’re right. Ten bucks says she shows up with food.”

“Why do you get that bet? I called it. You’re just jumping in.”

“Fine. Ten bucks says she doesn’t.”

“You’re on.”

Reagan rolled her eyes. “Hey, the Ferris stall… They’ll be cooking for the volunteers, right?”

“Yep. We all got a note that they’re hosting for us at seven tonight. We can all bring a guest, so come along with me.” I pulled a hair tie from my wrist and pulled my short, shoulder-length blond hair back into a tiny ponytail. “Do you wanna give me a hand here?”

“Not really.”

“Please? I don’t know who my competitor is this year, so I’m stuck here alone. And I’m getting you barbecue for free tonight.”

Reagan sighed. “Fine, but I’m not painting that sign again. That was a nightmare.” She pointed at the broken sign from last year.

“Only because you have the artistic ability of a sack of potatoes.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my car keys from my pocket. “Here.” I tossed them to her. “There’s a bucket full of cleaning stuff in the trunk of my car, and another one with paint stuff for the sign. I’ll do it.”

She sighed, throwing my keys in the air and catching them again. “I don’t even work here. I don’t even volunteer. Yet every year I’m roped into it.”

“Volunteer, then.”

“One year, I’m going to be your competition.”

“I look forward to it.” I grinned, grabbing the brush that was standing in the corner. “But bitching at me this year isn’t going to make that happen any sooner.”

“Whatever. I’ll be back in a minute.” She ducked as she left the tent.

I stepped up onto the old wooden stage and paused. The wood creaked, but it felt as strong as it always did. That wasn’t saying a lot since it really wasn’t that sturdy, but hey, if a floorboard gave out, it wasn’t me that would be getting sued.

Not that I liked it, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was neither a builder nor rich.

The stage was covered in dust and dirt despite the fact it’d only been erected last night, and I pulled the curtain that separated the two “booths” back so I could sweep right across it.

The boards creaked beneath my feet, and one was a little too bouncy for my liking. It was right by the back of the booth so it was easily covered by a plant or something like that.

Look at that.

I was making this place homely already.

God only knew I’d be spending enough time here over the next week.

“In the blue corner is Halley with a broom, and in the red corner is Ava with not one, not two, but three of Creek Falls’ finest pulled pork sammichs!”

I turned and shot my raven-haired best friend a withering look. “Sandwich. It’s called a sandwich. You’re not an internet meme.”

She widened her bright blue eyes, put on an over-exaggerated smile, and waved one of the sandwiches in my direction. “Sammiiiiicccchhhhh!”

I needed new friends.

I put the broom down and jumped down from the stage. “You flirted with Butler, didn’t you?”

She pursed hot-pink lips and blinked innocently from behind her yellow-framed glasses. “Just a little.”

“Reagan owes me ten bucks.” I took my sandwich from her. “If this carries on like this, I’m gonna be rich by the end of the fair.”

Ava put Reagan’s sandwich on one of the small tables that were dotted around. “Are you betting on me? I’m not a fan of that.”

“We always bet on you. I always win. I’m like five hundred bucks richer at this point.”

Ava rolled her eyes as she unpackaged her sandwich. “Who’s your competition this year? Do you know yet?”

I shook my head, sitting on the edge of the stage. “No. They were supposed to meet me here, but I doubt that’s going to happen now. Nobody likes to set this place up.”

“Do you think you’ll find out tonight at the cookout?”

“I hope so. I need to arrange a schedule for getting this booth set up. I’m not going to do it all.”

She snorted. “Come on, Hals. You know what will happen. You’ll set up a schedule, but nobody will organize it the way you want, so you’ll end up doing it anyway.”

I paused. “Shut up.”

“Umph!” Reagan dumped the stuff from my car down on the grass. “Shit me, that stuff is heavy.” She looked up at us. “Sandwiches?”

“Yep. And you owe me ten bucks.” I grinned.

Ava frowned as Reagan stuck her hand into the back pocket of her shorts. “Gotta stop making these bets,” she muttered, pulling apart some bills to find a ten.

“I agree,” Ava added. “You should stop!”

“Thank you.” I plucked the ten dollars from Reagan’s hand. “I’m not stopping. I keep winning.”

“Whatever. We’re putting a bet on you.” Reagan grabbed her sandwich. “I bet you’ll lose the kissing contest this year.”

“No way!” Ava shook her head. “Nuh-uh. The only way she’ll lose is if she retires.”

“I’m calling it. Halley is going to lose the title this year.”

“No. It’s all she has. Except for her raccoons, but they’re technically not even hers.”

“Hey!” I chimed in. “Leave the trash pandas out of this. And I’m with Ava—there’s no way I’m losing my crown this year. Unless a Hemsworth brother shows up. Or Nick Jonas. Then I’d willingly lose, to be honest. I’d be in their line myself.”

Reagan laughed, then looked to Ava. “Fifty bucks says she loses.”

“Fifty?” Ava squealed. “I don’t have fifty bucks!”

“Neither do I. Halley won all my money, and since all our bets are about you and your love life, you owe me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ava, just make the bet. I’m not going to lose. I have never lost.”

She looked between us for a second. “Fine.” She shook Reagan’s hand. “But if you lose, you owe me fifty bucks.”

Snorting, I stood up and grabbed the bucket with the paint stuff for the sign. “Nice try. This isn’t my bet.”

CHAPTER TWO – HALLEY

My Best Friend’s Brother

The fair wasn’t due to start for another three days, but the Ferris family’s cookout was a tradition. They owned the biggest barbecue restaurant in town and were somewhat iconic in Creek Falls.

The cookout actually started by accident a few years ago—Barney Ferris had gotten his dates all mixed up and started cooking too early, so he invited all the volunteers and their kids to pitch up and grab a bite to eat. It’d been so much fun that he’d kept it up.

Now, it was the locals’ favorite night of the fair.

Except for the final one where there was a massive talent contest, a la America’s Got Talent. But we didn’t have Simon Cowell. We had my father, my grandmother, and Reagan’s crazy Great-Aunt Bethel.

Not exactly a stellar line-up, but it made for some great entertainment. It was mostly my dad shaking his head at the older ladies and swearing he won’t do it again.

Spoiler alert: he does it.

Every single year.

I tied the ropes that held the booth curtains together and stepped away from the tent. It was in much better shape than it’d been earlier when I’d arrived. Without sounding too much like Draco Malfoy, I was going to have to speak to my dad about it.

Nobody wanted to kiss people while in a room that smelled like mothballs.

I also needed an allowance for Febreeze.

I turned at the sound of huffing and puffing. Reagan stopped and doubled over, clutching her side. She was desperately trying to catch her breath, but I just stared at her.

“I told you to start running at least once a week.”

“I told you to fuck off,” she wheezed. She held up a finger as she took a moment to catch her breath. “Phew. I really need to start running.”

“No shit,” I said dryly. “Running something other than your mouth would be something I’d pay to see.”

“Hey, do you want this wine I smuggled in or not?”

“First, why bother? You know it’s legal to drink during the fair, and Barney always makes sure there’s plenty for this cookout. Second, you didn’t smuggle it in. You’re not a pirate.”

“You’re right. If I were a pirate, I’d have made you walk the plank by now.” She pulled an insulated bottle from her purse and handed it to me. “Here. Before I change my mind, you hypocrite.”

“How am I a hypocrite?”

“You run your mouth more than anyone I know.”

“Yeah, but I also run my legs, which means I can actually run away if I piss someone off. You’d run ten feet and collapse into a little heap on the ground.” I grinned and turned. “Come on. I can smell the food from here.”

She sighed. “I hate it when you’re right. Is Ava already here?”

“Mm. She said she’d meet us here.”

“I guess she and Butler are back on.”

“They’ll have broken up again by the weekend. She really needs to try dating other people.”

“I’ll drink to that. I love her, and I support her life choices, but if I have to listen to one more crying monologue about Butler Ferris, I’m going to knock her out.”

I didn’t want to be that person—Reagan already had it down—but I had to agree. There are only so many times you can watch your best friend make bad choices before you stop being nice about it.

We had one, maybe two, more episodes of that in us.

Depending on our mood.

Maybe three if she was lucky.

Of course, we wanted it to work out. We loved Ava and we… well, we tolerated Butler, to be honest, but he made her happy when they were together. The problem was that they were both downright miserable when they weren’t together, and there was a lot of shouting and arguing during that period.

As long as they lasted the fair. I didn’t think I could handle doing the competition and being an agony aunt in the middle of it.

We crossed the rest of the empty fairground in silence. There were imposing fairground rides that ranged from high-flying, swinging things that gave me a case of the hives, to the Ferris wheel, to the multi-lane, giant slides that gave me nightmares thanks to a sliding incident when I was six.

Stalls were set up, breaking up the rides that would be lit up like Christmas trees in a few days. The milk bottle and shooting games and stupid little things where you could win a goldfish that would die within a week were interspersed with food stalls serving everything from foot-long hot dogs to corn dogs to freshly made lemonade and cotton candy.

We passed the huge pirate ship that rocked side by side that Ava had once thrown up on—we’d been drunk teenagers—and approached the huge tent that made up the Ferris’ barbecue stall.

It was buzzing with life. The daylight wasn’t quite waning yet, but there were solar-powered lights stuck into the ground around the tables that made up their area. Wooden picnic benches were set all around, as were a few bistro-style table and chair sets.

Me and Raegan joined the line waiting for food from the counter. The rich scent of barbecued meat filled the air, and a long table set off to the side was filled with all kinds of side dishes and condiments—salads, coleslaws, sauces. You name it; it was there.

We were almost to the front of the line when a nearby table opened up. Raegan bolted for it, almost knocking somebody over, and snagged it by jumping on top of it.

Slightly dramatic, but whatever.

I grabbed us both some food and joined her.

She slid her plate across the table. “Did you find out who your competition is yet?”

I shook my head. “I tried calling my dad, but he didn’t pick up. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Or right now.”

I jerked around at the familiar, deep voice that had haunted one too many dreams in my life. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Preston Wright slid his tall, muscular frame onto the bench opposite us. He had the same, bright blue eyes as Raegan, but he still had his natural hair color, unlike his younger sister.

It was a rich dark brown, the color of a vat of melted chocolate, and it was cut close to his ears but longer and swept to the side on top. He had cheekbones that not even a sculptor could create, and his annoying perfect lips were surrounded by stubble that was at least two days old.

And, just in case it wasn’t clear: I had a bit of a crush on him.

It was annoying. I didn’t even like Preston, yet my vagina fluttered a little whenever he was nearby. The traitorous little bitch.

He leaned forward on the bench, meeting my gaze as a smirk played on his lips. “You want to know who your competition is this year?”

My stomach sank. “You’re kidding.”

“I never kid about kissing, Halley.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Raegan waved her hands. “You’re her competition in the kissing booth?”

Preston nodded. “The organizers came to me and asked me. They want to spice things up a little—give Halley some actual competition.”

So they picked the hottest guy in Creek Falls? Awesome. Just awesome.

Raegan looked him up and down. “So they picked you?”

“It’s not my fault if they think I can kick Halley’s ass.”

I snorted. “In your dreams.”

“Hey, I already have a line of women waiting to kiss me.”

“No, you have a line of women hoping you’ll sleep with them so they can accidentally get pregnant and trap you.”

“And the money,” Raegan added. “Since Dad sold off half the company…”

Yeah, who knew being a florist could make you millions? I didn’t. But since their dad sold half the company, we all knew now.

“I don’t have one-night stands,” Preston interjected. “I can be both a bachelor and a celibate man.”

I stared at him flatly. “You’re celibate.”

“Why do you think I’m entering a stupid kissing contest?”

“Because you like winning.”

“I do like winning. Especially if I get to beat the town’s golden girl.” He grinned.

“Who’s beating the town’s golden girl?” Ava slid around from behind us.

“Me,” Preston replied.

“In what?”

Raegan smirked. “He’s Halley’s competition in the kissing booth contest.”

Ava froze with one leg over the bench. “Shut the fuck up.” She turned to look at me. “That’s a joke, right?”

I put a slice of cucumber in my mouth in response. My face probably already said what I was thinking. I didn’t really have much of a poker face.

She groaned and dropped onto the bench. “Now I’m losing for sure.”

Preston laughed. “You bet again, didn’t you?”

“Of course we did,” she snapped. “Our friendship is based upon ridiculous bets that Halley always wins, and I somehow always end up losing.”

I held up my hands. “You bet Raegan on this. Don’t bring me into it. And while you’re bitching, you could have a little faith in me. I haven’t won four years in a row for no reason.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t been up against Creek Falls’ answer to fucking Thor before.”

“That’s gross,” Raegan muttered.

Preston laughed again. “Creek Falls’ Thor, huh? I can live with that.”

Sigh. He was. Kinda. Ugh. “It’s just a bit of fun, okay?”

“You live for this contest. It’s your favorite thing,” Ava said. “How can you just say it’s a bit of fun?”

“She’s downplaying it for when I beat her.” Preston leaned over and took a sausage from my plate with a wink.

“Do you mind?” I peered at him over the rim of my glasses. It wasn’t the best idea in the world because it made him a little blurry.

Actually, no, wait. That was a great idea. It meant all his stupid, handsome features blurred in together, and there would be no clit clenching if I couldn’t see him clearly.

“No.” Preston tore a huge bite off the end of the sausage. “I’m hungry.”

“The line is right over there.” I cocked my thumb over my shoulder. “There’s more than enough food to go around. Get your own.”

“Why do I need my own when yours is right here?”

“Preston,” Reagan snapped. “Leave her alone.”

“You’re right.” He held up his hands as he moved his tall, strong body away from the table. “She gets the pleasure of my company for the next week—I’m sure she needs tonight to let that sink in before she gets excited.”

I stared at him. “The only sight of you that excites me is you walking away.”

He clutched his chest. “You wound me.”

“Carry on, and I actually will.” I twirled my fork in my hand.

Preston laughed, walking backward. “The week is still young, Halley.”

Ugh.

He was right.

It was young. Too young. And one week competing against him was one week too long, if you ask me. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being stuck in a glorified, oversized tent and having the object of my dumbass crush sitting mere feet behind me.

Kissing other women.

What would undoubtedly be a long, long line of other women.

Preston Wright was Creek Falls’ most eligible bachelor. Ever since his and Reagan’s parents sold fifty percent of their florist chain, the Wright family was worth seven figures. Preston stood to inherit fifty percent of that, but he was on a tidy little salary for whatever it was he did in the company.

There were a lot of women in Creek Falls who had their eye on him. Of course they did—that was where his wallet usually was. On his person.

Yes, I was jaded. At least that was what my thrice-married mother would tell you. I was more of the view that I was realistic with a dash of pessimist.

The only time I was optimistic was when I was opening a bottle of wine. There was a whole of optimism to be found at the bottom of one of those babies.

I didn’t actually care that Preston would be kissing other women.

I needed to say that. Loud and proud—but not so loud that he could hear me and get the wrong idea. Well, the right idea. But the wrong one at the same time.

I didn’t care. Honestly, I didn’t.

The lady doth protest too much and all that bullshit.

I digress.

I didn’t care.

If I said it a lot, did that make it truer?

Probably not. That wasn’t how it worked.

But still—I didn’t care. The idea that he was going to do it just feet from me on the other side of a curtain wasn’t a desirable situation, but I could handle it.

I was a librarian. I lived and breathed books. Those damn things had some situations in them, you know? If I could handle some fictional people ripping out my heart, I could handle this.

That’s what I was going to tell myself.

I turned my head and found both Reagan and Ava’s eyes on me. “What?”

“Did you know you’ve been staring a hole in Preston’s back since he turned around?” Reagan asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

Ava grabbed Reagan’s insulated wine bottle and unscrewed the cap. “It’s not that surprising, is it? She’s had a crush on him forever. Now she gets to listen to him playing catch with a bunch of other women’s lips.”

“Do we have to discuss this right now?” I said.

“Yeah, Ava,” Reagan continued. “It’s tough enough for Halley. She knows she’s going to lose this year. Give her a break.”

“Is there no support for the underdog these days?”

“Yes, Reagan was supporting the underdog, but now we’ve switched.” Ava swigged from the wine bottle. “My money is on you, Hals, but let’s be honest—you don’t stand a chance against Preston and his band of merry bitches.”

Reagan sniffed. “They’re not all bitches.”

“Isn’t Lindsay Rinna trying to get in with him?”

I snorted. “She’s a bitch.”

“One snake, Halley,” Reagan pointed out.

“Yes, and it was one snake too many.” I pushed away my plate of food. I wasn’t hungry anymore. “It doesn’t matter. I’m under no illusions about my lack of a relationship with Preston. We barely even get along, never mind anything else. My crush is just that—a crush. I’m attracted to him. That’s all it’s ever been and all it ever will be. Now, can we drop it?”

Ava and Reagan shared a look that said they would drop it.

For tonight.

CHAPTER THREE – HALLEY

Harems and Hostility

“Halley!” Stephen, my future stepdad, took a big step toward me and wrapped me in a bear hug.

To be honest, he was the only one of my mother’s partners I’d ever liked. Except for my own dad, of course. As it was, Stephen would be her fourth husband unless they fucked it all up before that.

It was an option. The woman had been engaged six times, married three, and God only knew how many relationships.

She was a serial dater, a serial bride, and she could advocate her own divorces at this point, never mind anyone else’s.

She probably earned a commission from her lawyer for referrals.

“Hey.” I returned Stephen’s hug. “Is Mom here?”

“No, she’s at the town hall. Something about fireworks.”

I rolled my eyes as their German Shepherd, Zeus, came bounding out and almost knocked me on my ass on the porch. “Hey, buddy.” I ruffled his fluffy neck and let him lavish me with attention.

He was the only male doing it, okay? A girl had to take her kicks where she could get them.

He finally calmed down, trotting into the front yard to his favorite bush to do his business.

“What do you need?” Stephen asked, motioning for me to follow him inside.

“She has the ropes for the booth. She told me she’d bring them by this morning.”

“Ah—of course. And she forgot. They’re in the garage.” He stopped in the hall and grabbed a keychain from the hooks on the wall. “You got your car?”

“Nah, I thought I’d toss them over my shoulder and walk them across town.”

He laughed. “I’ll load them into your trunk. Are you okay setting them up? The posts are pretty heavy.”

“I know. I’m the one who sets them up.” I grinned and moved to open the garage door. I heaved it up and over my head with it creaking as it moved. The garage flooded with light, and the dirty, old gold posts glinted in the sunlight.

“How do they get so filthy sitting in a garage?” Stephen mused, looking at one.

“I have no idea. They’re just plated.”

“Do you ever think that running the booth is more hassle than it’s worth?”

I snorted as I fingered one of the red ropes. “Every year. But I don’t have a choice—as long as I’m the champion, it’s my responsibility.”

“You can quit, you know.”

“I can’t. I like winning.” I grinned.

He laughed, moving one of the posts and looking at it. “Yeah, you get that from your mom. Hey, look—I can wash these off for you. I have the power washer. It’ll take me twenty minutes.”

I bit my lip. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“Yes, but it’s last month’s accounting, so…” He winked. “You can wait, or I can bring them down to the booth for you. Will I be able to drive over the ground?”

“Yeah, I can give you a pass. I have some in my car. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Halley. I need to take Zeus out soon anyway. Leave them with me and go and do what you need to do.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a one-armed hug with a gentle squeeze that he returned. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t mention it. Until your mother gets mad at me, that is.”

Laughing, I ducked out of the garage and pulled my keys from my pocket. “I’ll put it away with the rest of your favors!”

“Hey—how are the raccoons? Did that food tray help? I meant to call and ask.”

I grinned at the mention of my nightly visitors. Last year, we’d reached a truce when I’d started putting peanut butter sandwiches out on my porch for them in exchange for them leaving my trash the hell alone. They were also little thieves, and they’d stolen several of the metal food bowls I used for them. Stephen was a handy guy, and he’d made me a feeder that was now attached to my porch.

“Oh, yeah. Boris—he’s the boss—spent thirty minutes trying to get the bowls off the porch before he gave up. I think he enlisted the help of Betty, but she’s kinda lazy.”

“You know they become pets if you name them, don’t you?”

“Don’t try that. Mom attempted that when I was a kid and saved all the wildlife, but I still named them all.”

“I know, but I thought I’d give it a go.” He grinned. “I’m glad the bowl unit works. You go back to the booth, and I’ll get started here.”

“Thank you!” I grabbed him a pass from my car before I waved and got into my car before steering it out of the driveway. I headed back in the direction of the fairground. The traffic was light since the tourists didn’t come pouring in until the fair actually started, and I made it across my small hometown in mere minutes.

I waved at the officer who was guarding the entrance to the fairground. The young guy barely glanced at me, and I wondered what the point of the passes was if he wasn’t going to check them.

My car pottered over the uneven grass until I reached the booth. The huge, tatted purple velvet curtains were open, and a frown crossed my face as I pulled up in front of it.

I got out of my car, grabbing my bottle of water and purse, and walked to the tent. Nobody was supposed to be here except me today, and I knew I’d left the curtains drawn and the rope tied. “Hello?”

There was no answer.

I crept inside, slowly looking around. I couldn’t see anyone here—there weren’t exactly many hiding spaces in a tent where the interior was nothing other than a small wooden stage split by another horrid purple curtain.

I set my purse on one of the small tables that held all the paint for the sign and looked around again. Someone had definitely been there—there was an empty sandwich wrapper on one of the other tables, and I walked over to it like I was Sherlock freakin’ Holmes or something.

Fortunately, I didn’t need to pick it up. The rich scent of a meatball sub clung to the air around it, and I pursed my lips.

There was only one person I knew who ate meatball subs.

Preston Wright.

Great. That was exactly what I wanted. Him hovering around right now. Like I wasn’t going to be bad enough during the fair itself—the fact that he was supposed to help me set up had completely slipped my mind.

Now it was at the forefront.

At least the person who’d opened the tent was supposed to be doing it.

Jesus, this was going to be a disaster. How was I going to pull this off? How the hell was I supposed to sit with my back to him with nothing more than a curtain separating us, listening to him kissing other women? While I was kissing other men?

When he was the only person I actually had any desire to kiss?

This was going to be a nightmare.

In fact, it was my worst nightmare already. I had to spend the next forty-eight hours in close quarters with Preston getting everything set up, then more days listening to him smooching with people.

I didn’t know what was worse.

Being around him, or the kissing thing.

He was hard work. Not because he was annoying in a general sense, but because of how I felt about him. The frustrating way I felt about him was the bane of my existence, and no matter how hard I tried, I’d never been able to turn it off.

My attraction to him just simmered beneath the surface with feelings that I knew would never be requited.

Mayor’s daughter or not—I was still who I was, and that was far removed from his little world. His world consisted of sports bars and pretty dates and flashy watches and cars. My world was made of books and the Dewey decimal system and peanut butter sandwich eating raccoons.

The flashiest thing in my life was my grocery bill.

Now, I wasn’t putting myself down; I was being realistic. I was, in fact, a catch.

As long as you didn’t mind your catch coming with wild animals for pets, that was.

Ha.

Any man who wasn’t a fan of my little trash pandas wasn’t the man for me.

I shook off all the thoughts of my crush on Preston and looked around the tent. There was still so much to do to get set up, and it was just like him to come by, eat a sandwich, and fuck off again.

I ran my fingers through my loosely curled blonde bob and blew out a long breath. I’d knocked my glasses off-kilter with my thumb, so I straightened them and clicked my tongue.

I had no idea where to start.

A shadow came over the doorway, and a tall figure ducked his head to step into the tent.

Preston.

He was dressed casually in jean shorts and a red polo shirt. In his hands he held two coffees from one of the nearby stalls, and he held one out when he saw me. “Coffee?”

I studied him for a moment before looking at the cup.

“It’s not poisoned, I swear.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. I’m sure that’s what murderers assure their victims.”

He snorted and set both cups down on the table next to my purse. “I won’t be killing you today, Halley. I can’t beat you if I kill you.”

“Technically, you could beat me, but you’d probably leave behind DNA.”

“And orange isn’t really my color.”

“Neither is red, but here you are wearing it.”

“Ouch. You’re in a good mood.”

I shot him a look as I walked over to my purse. I picked up the coffee and sniffed it. The rich scent of vanilla wafted out of the hot cup, and I groaned internally. He’d remembered the coffee I drank, and he’d somehow gotten it from one of the stalls.

“That’s the look of defeat right there,” Preston said with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Vanilla with low-fat cream and no sugar.”

I made a non-committal sound. “Did you text your sister just to bug me?”

“It bugs you that I know what coffee you drink?”

“You bug me in general, so what do you think?”

“Are you on your period? You’re hostile today.”

I froze, my body going so rigid that I almost crushed the coffee cup. “If I am on my period, do you think it’s a good idea to piss me off?”

“No, but that didn’t stop me doing it to Reagan for all the years we lived together.”

I put the coffee back down and decided to move on. He had an answer for everything, and since I did, too, it meant we weren’t going to get anywhere with this conversation.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, turning around.

He met my gaze. “Helping you set up. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right?”

“I don’t mean here, right now. I mean here in general.”

“I assumed it was fairly obvious.”

I hit him with what I hoped was a withering look. “You know what I mean. You’ve never been involved with the fair. Even when we were kids. You avoided it until it was open. You ignored your parents’ stall forever. Only Reagan worked it. Why are you here now?”

Preston sighed and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I told you. I was asked to be your competition by your dad. He thinks that having two young, attractive people in the booth will raise more money for the playground.”

Did he just—

“Did you just say my dad asked you?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew until yesterday, but then I thought you were just playing dumb. Now I see you really didn’t know.”

“Of course I didn’t know. I don’t want to see your harem lining up out of the tent and giggling while they touch up their lipstick to see who can kiss you the longest. If I’d known about this shit, I would have found someone to compete against me myself.”

“You really don’t like losing, do you?”

“No, but do you really think that you and I are going to get along for this entire fair?” I raised an eyebrow. “We’ve never spent any time alone together.”

“I think you’re more bothered about what you perceive to be my harem more than anything else. Does it matter if there’s a long line of women in here trying to kiss them? They’re all paying for the privilege. Isn’t the point of this to raise as much money as possible for the hospice?”

I opened my mouth before quickly closing it again.

He was right. Of course he was. That was the reason the kissing booth had been created ten years ago, and it just got more and more popular every year. The hospice needed the donations to build their new wing, and I had no business letting my own personal feelings get in the way of raising as much money as possible.

I didn’t like it, but that didn’t matter.

“You’re right. How are you with a paintbrush?” I pointed at the kissing booth sign. “That needs another coat of paint, and then it needs putting up with some lighting.”

Preston looked at the sign then at me. “I’m neither an artist nor an electrician.”

I shrugged and, walking to him, grabbed a paintbrush, and pressed it against his chest. “YouTube is full of great videos. I’d also suggest using some common sense if you have any left.”

“Halley, I grew up creating bouquets of flowers, not painting signs.”

“Well, I’d pull out your phone, then. I don’t need flowers; I need a sign. You are here to help, aren’t you?” I raised one eyebrow and met his eyes.

Preston stared at me for a long moment, his blue gaze piercing. I felt it everywhere, a long shiver that started at the base of my neck and shot down my spine, tingling its way across my limbs until it finally escaped at my fingertips.

“Yeah. I’m here to help.” He took the brush from my hand, brushing his thumb against mine. “But if this looks like a five-year-old did it, it’s on you.”

I held up my hands and backed off. “And I’ll broadcast it all over the place. Kill off your chances of winning.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the can of paint. “You can try.”

“I will.”

CHAPTER FOUR – PRESTON

Fuck Painting

I put the final touches on the dumbass red lips Halley had insisted I paint on the sign and sat back.

I was not a fucking artist.

Let that be known. Preston Wright could put together a badass wedding bouquet, but he could not paint for shit.

Actually, I didn’t want the bouquet thing known either. It wasn’t exactly anything that a young, good-looking guy would shout from the rooftops.

Yeah, for a good time, call the guy who can put together your grandma’s funeral flowers with his eyes shut.

Everyone knew it, but that didn’t mean I was going to advertise it.

I turned my attention back to the sign. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever created, but it was more fitting as a class project for a bunch of fifth-graders. They’d be proud of it, but I was…

Well, I was not.

Thank fuck this was for charity.

I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I had no idea why I’d said yes when Halley’s dad called me and asked me to be her competition. Maybe it was the guilt that the fair was a week away and nobody had signed up to compete against her and that without competition, the playground wouldn’t be redone this year.

Maybe it was the fact it was Halley.

Maybe it was the fact I wanted to beat her tight, round ass.

Maybe it was the idea that kissing other women while only feet away from her would finally beat down the overwhelming attraction I felt.

She was fucking beautiful. Her short, blonde hair was always curled around her face, and the red lipstick that constantly colored her full lips matched her glasses perfectly. It’d been years since I’d seen her without her signature red lips, yet all I wanted to do was kiss her so hard I wiped it all off.

It was a stupid attraction. Halley could barely stand me, and the feeling was more than mutual. She was perfect—she was more than goddamn perfect; she was too perfect.

The mayor’s daughter, the kissing booth champion, the resident raccoon savior. My sister’s best friend since they were six years old.

A part of me wanted to scrub away at Halley’s outer shell. There had to be something that was wrong with her. Nobody was that beautiful and smart and kind—there had to be an issue somewhere. She had to have this really bad, really horrible habit like biting her toenails or picking her nose and eating it.

Otherwise, I had to wonder why the hell she was single.

Surely it wasn’t just because of the raccoons. It was a little weird, but people left food out for birds and squirrels. Granted, they didn’t make them sandwiches, but it’s basically the same thing.

I put the paintbrush on top of the can and sat right back, reaching for my bottle of water. It was lunchtime and it was hot and humid outside, and the regret for ultimately agreeing to this was already creeping in.

I wasn’t used to being outside for hours in this heat. I was used to either working in the store where there was air conditioning or from my apartment where, again, there was air conditioning.

Now, I’d committed to being basically outside all day long for a week.

It was going to be a nightmare.

I turned at the sound of a huffing breath. Halley stomped into the tent, shoving one of the curtains out of her way. Her short, blonde hair swung around her face until some of it got caught on her shiny, red lips.

She reached up and pulled the hair away before she froze and looked at me. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring. I’m wondering who shoved a stick up your ass.”

She pursed her lips and put down the Styrofoam cup she was holding. “Careful, or I’ll pull it out and put it up yours.”

I grinned. “I finished the sign.”

She walked over and crouched down next to me. “Not bad. You’re not being displayed in any museums anytime soon, though.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to look at a small town’s kissing booth sign in the Louvre.”

“You’re right. Not that one, anyway.” Her lips tugged up to the side as she pushed up to standing. “Can you help me put these posts out? They’re pretty heavy.”

“Sure. I thought Stephen was gonna help when he brought them over?”

“He was, but he had to run. My mom needed him for something or another.” She went over to the first goldy-bronzey colored post and dragged it across the grass.

I grabbed two of the posts and pulled them after her. “Where do you want these?”

She turned and motioned as she spoke. “We need to create both an entry and an exit line to each side of the booths. So one line down the very middle of the tent to separate them, then one down the middle of each section. People come in on the left side, step onto the platform, donate, kiss, then leave on the right side.”

“I’m sure that’s a lot simpler than it sounds.” I put my two posts in the very middle of the room.

“Does it sound complicated?” She looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “It’s literally three lines of posts at equal distances.”

“See, if you’d said that from the start, I wouldn’t have had a flash mob going on in my mind.”

“Preston, it’s not rocket science. Just set out the damn posts before I give up and do it myself.”

“Can you move all these by yourself?”

Halley paused. “I can move them. I’ll bitch and complain the whole time, but I can.”

Laughing, I grabbed another two and pulled them into place. “No wonder you and Reagan and Ava have been friends as long as you have. You’re all exactly the same.”

She rolled her eyes and moved my posts into their correct places. “We’re not exactly the same. They make stupid bets they can’t win, for a start.”

“You’ve been making those bets for years.”

“Yeah, but I win mine. They don’t.” She shrugged and moved with me as I dragged two more posts. “The only time one of them ever wins is if they bet against each other, and they only do that when I’m involved. Like when they bet on whether I’d win this year or not.”

“You won’t.”

“Because of your harem, I know.”

I swore she rolled her eyes again, but she turned just in time. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, you’ll give yourself a migraine.”

“I’ll make sure I buy stock in ibuprofen to get through this week, then.”

“Or just don’t roll your eyes.”

“Why would I do that? It’s the perfect way to spare your feelings while still telling you that you’re annoying me.”

“You care about my feelings?”

“Not particularly, but I do have a reputation to uphold. Plus, last I knew, you didn’t have feelings. You just had a lot of opinions.”

I fought a smile. “As opposed to you, who has no opinions.”

“I have opinions.” She gave a careless shrug of her shoulder and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I think math is dumb and bugs are gross. I like wine and hot dogs and cotton candy and watching Netflix for six hours without getting out of my pajamas.”

“How are all of those things opinions?”

“Some people don’t like wine or hot dogs or cotton candy. Other people might think that watching Netflix for six hours in your pajamas is a bad idea. They’re also wrong, for what it’s worth.”

“And that’s also your opinion.”

“Probably more people agree than disagree, and majority rules and all that.” She clipped the first rope on one of the poles and tossed me some. “Get started over there when you’re done.”

“Yes, boss.” I threw the ropes to the other side of the tent since it wasn’t far and grabbed two more poles. “But to circle back, you’re wrong. I do have feelings.”

“Feelings inside your pants don’t count, Preston.”

I snorted. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t do one-night stands?”

“Until it sounds believable.”

“You’re never going to believe me.”

“Probably not.” She peered at me over the rim of her glasses. “But I think it’d be fun to make you try to convince me.”

“Why do you care?”

“Kids come to this kissing booth. I don’t need them seeing a bunch of women trying to turn you on while kissing you.” She clipped the final rope of her side into place.

“You care a lot for someone who doesn’t like me.”

She turned her head, offering me a withering look. “Look, Preston, this isn’t going to work if we’re just going to fight the entire time.”

“Who’s fighting? I’m not fighting with you. You’re the one with the stick so far up your ass it’s coming out of your ears.” I snapped one of the ropes in place. “And you’re taking it out on me.”

There was silence for a minute before she sighed. “Sorry. It’s been a rough afternoon.” She dipped her head, and her short hair covered her face before she reached up and pushed it behind her ear. “Your sign doesn’t look that bad, by the way.”

Turning my head, I met her eyes, a smile playing on my lips. “Don’t lie. It looks like shit.”

She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, masking her laugh.

Jesus, this was going to be a long week.

***

I took a long drink from the beer bottle as I typed one-handed. Finishing the email before I finished my long slug of beer, I hit send, then pushed the laptop to the side.

Technically, I shouldn’t be drinking and working, but spending hours alone in a tent with Halley Dawson was more than enough to make me drink.

I’d put myself into a drunken stupor by the time the fair was over. It was probably frowned upon to be a part of a kissing booth contest while drunk.

Fuck me dead.

It’d been a good idea at the time. Beat Halley at her own game. Steal her crown just because I felt I could and, yeah, raise money at the same time. The fair really wasn’t my thing, and she had every right to question my being there.

I was surprised that she hadn’t pinned me to a wall and interrogated me further. That was her style—information, information, information. It was probably the librarian in her.

My front door opened a touch, and a familiar flash of purple filled the tiny space there.

“What the fuck do you want?”

My sister grinned. “Hello to you, too.”

“Go away, Reagan.”

“I have pizza.”

I paused. Shit. She knew just what to say to make me pay attention. “Fine. Come in.”

She slipped in with two pizza boxes balanced on one hand and kicked the door shut behind her. “Works like a charm every time.”

“Yeah, for what it’s worth, I don’t want to spend my evenings with my little sister.”

Reagan stopped and looked around my apartment. She even put one hand against her forehead as if she was looking for something. “Yeah, I mean, your company is overwhelming. I can barely move. Is this a rave?”

“Sit down and bring me that pizza, you pain in the ass.”

She glanced toward the kitchen as she joined me in the living room. “Did you eat already?”

“What did I just say?”

She put them down on the coffee table and grabbed the smaller box, then took the armchair. “I don’t care, to be honest. I wasn’t really listening.” She pulled a slice out, folded it in half, and took a huge bite out of it.

My sister ate like a man.

I opened my box and pulled out a slice.

“So. How goes the kissing booth?” Reagan asked.

“Why don’t you ask your best friend?”

“I did. There was a lot of cussing plus a demand that I fuck off.”

“That sounds like Halley.”

“Uh-huh.” She shoved the crust into her mouth and nodded. When she finished, she said, “You look like someone beat you with a twelve-inch dildo.”

“Reagan.”

“What?

“Can you reign it in tonight?”

“No. I’m not a horse rider. Can you pull your dick from your ass and I don’t know, fucking smile?”

“Can you shut your fucking mouth?”

She grinned, folding another slice of pizza in half before shoving it in her mouth again.

Well, technically, she did what I asked.

“I know what you’re fishing for, and I’m not going to give you what you think you want.”

“I know what I want. I want a six-foot-two firefighter with a tattoo sleeve and a rescue chihuahua,” she replied. “I don’t want a basket full of catfish I’ll have to ship to Louisiana for a catfish sub.”

“You’re getting off-topic.”

“We were never on-topic.”

“There never was a topic.”

She got up and pulled two beers from the fridge. She twisted the caps on both and handed me one before sitting back down. “Look, I know you’re attracted to Halley.”

“I’m attracted to half the women in this town.”

“And I’m attracted to this pizza, but I don’t want to fuck the crust into next week.”

“Reagan.”

“I get the inappropriate streak from Aunt Karen, okay?”

“And Mom. And Grandma.” I put my beer down and grabbed a pizza slice. “But I’m not giving you what you want. I know you have this weird idea about me dating Halley, but it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s something there, Preston. I see the way you look at her. She’s the reason you don’t do one-night stands.”

“You need to lay off Netflix. All those romance movies are scrambling your brain.”

“Pres—”

“No, Reagan. And before you start, I’m not going to date Ava either. There are already enough insane women in our family without adding either of your best friends.” I hit her with a hard look. “No. Forget about it.”

She sank back into her chair with a huff. “Fine. I’ll forget about it.”

CHAPTER FIVE – HALLEY

Who Needs Family When You Have Friends?

“You could have told me.” I pushed the dishwasher closed, and it spurred to life. “I can’t believe you didn’t answer my calls. Actually, I know why you didn’t answer my calls—it’s because you knew I’d be mad.”

My dad sipped his glass of red wine and stared at me. “Are you done?”

“For now. I might call you to whine again tomorrow.”

“I will make sure not to answer.” He put his glass down and scratched his neck. “Look, we got to last week and nobody had put themselves forward. I put a call out to the family members of those who work in the council, but nobody answered.”

“So you thought you’d ask Preston Wright of all people?”

Dad hesitated for a second. “I called Robert,” he said, referring to Preston and Reagan’s dad. “I asked him if either of the kids were doing the fair, and when he said no, I asked if they’d like to do the booth.”

“Reagan refused.”

“As I assumed she would. She has to man the store while Robert and Joanna do the fair. Preston took a few days to think about it and only said yes two days ago.” He picked his wine glass back up with a shrug. “I was going to call you, but then we had a crisis at the office so I didn’t get a chance. Why are you so bothered, anyway? I thought you’d relish the thought of having some real competition.”

“Because she loooooves him,” my stepmom, Abigail, sang as she joined us in the kitchen, fresh from the shower. She rubbed her dark, wet hair with a towel and grinned in my direction. “Right, Halley?”

It was always jarring to see my usually impeccably-put-together stepmother without her makeup and lovely clothes, but it didn’t straight-up shock me anymore. “Wrong. I do not love Preston. I barely even like him—I tolerate him because he’s Reagan’s brother, but no. You’re wrong.”

She took the glass of wine my dad handed her and tossed the towel over her shoulder. “I’m not wrong. You have a crush on him.”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t be something I’d discuss in front of my dad,” I said firmly, shooting her a look.

Here’s the thing: we’ve always gotten along. She’s always been closer to a fun aunt than a stepmom, but I guess that’s the perk of being a stepmom.

Abigail also knew exactly how I felt about Preston, and now I was really, really regretting telling her.

She twisted her back to my dad and gave me an overexaggerated wink. “Honey, the message light on the phone in your office is blinking.”

Dad muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “Can’t even eat fucking dinner with my family,” and left us alone in the kitchen.

I pursed my lips at Abigail. “Can you not do that when he’s around? This is a problem, Abigail. I’m in trouble.”

She rolled her eyes and sat down at the expansive island that spread across the middle of the kitchen. “You’re not in trouble. You’re being dramatic.”

“I am so in trouble.” I walked over and leaned over, resting on my elbows while still keeping hold of my glass. “He’s going to sit there on the other side of the curtain, kissing other women, and I have to listen to that.”

“You’re forgetting a fundamental part of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“You’re kissing other men.”

I paused. “Yes, but I’m used to kissing other men. Have you seen the women interested in Preston? They’re tall and skinny and beautiful and perfect and—”

“Oh, my God, Halley.” Abigail finished the rest of her wine and got the bottle from the fridge before she filled both of our glasses. “Who cares what they look like? You have got to stop comparing yourself to other people. Yes, the girls who like Preston might be tall and skinny and beautiful perfect in your opinion, but that doesn’t mean you’re right. They aren’t you. Being you is your superpower. Embrace it.”

I pursed my lips. “This is The Talk, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s The Talk. Clearly, nobody else is giving it to you.”

I said nothing. We both knew that for all of my mother’s excellent qualities, knocking sense into me wasn’t something she’d ever found time for. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Abigail sat down and leaned over the island. “It doesn’t matter about anyone else. Who cares if he’s kissing girls like that? If he wants them over you, then he’s a fool. Any guy is. But until you start seeing yourself for the catch you are, nobody else is going to see it.”

I sighed. “Yes, everyone in town wants to date the mayor’s librarian daughter who has to put peanut butter sandwiches out for raccoons.”

“You don’t have to put the sandwiches out.”

“No, I do. They’re attracted to my trash. Like kids to candy.”

Her lips twitched. “Remember this: Preston Wright is not the only man in the universe. There is no easy way to date your best friend’s brother. Save yourself the trouble.” She winked and sipped from her glass. “And one day, you’ll find the person who accepts you. Raccoons and all.”

“That doesn’t change that I have to see Preston every day. Or listen to him kissing other women.”

“Halley, you’re forgetting one important thing. It’s all for charity. It doesn’t matter if he’s there doing it. It doesn’t mean anything, and you’ve seen him date other women. You won’t be sitting and watching him kiss other people. All you have to do is shut it off and do what you’re there to do. And beat his ass.”

I snorted wine up my nose. “You’re right. I’m freaking out over something I have no control over. This is ridiculous.”

“Ah, you’re your father’s daughter. He freaks out about everything. Yesterday, he had a minor meltdown over the mailbox being creaky. I went out there with some oil and, what do you know? No more creaks.” Abigail shrugged.

“Well, someone in this family has to have a level head.”

She winked. “That’s why I’m here, darlin’.”

I smiled and finished my wine. “Okay, I’m gonna head home. There’s some stuff to do tomorrow for the kissing booth, and I need to make sure that we get the flyers distributed for the tourists. Tell Dad I said bye.” I hugged her tightly, grabbed my things, and waved as I left.

The evening air wasn’t too hot, but it was warm enough that I still felt the trickle of sweat as it made its way down my back. Thankfully, I didn’t live too far from my dad’s house, so I was home in ten minutes, right as darkness began creeping over the town.

Golden hues coated the lower half of the sky, and the sun’s late rays beamed through my windows as I let myself in. I winced as it hit me right in the eye, but I dipped my head and ducked into the kitchen out of reach of the brightness.

A glance out of my back door showed me that my resident trash pandas hadn’t woken up and started causing havoc yet, so I used some initiative and pulled bread and peanut butter out of my cupboard.

I fixed several sandwiches and cut them into squares before carrying them out onto my porch on a plate. Four bowls were built into the decking thanks to Stephen, and they were glued in tight to battle against the light-fingered Boris, the daddy raccoon.

I put the sandwiches in the bowl, filled the one for water, and went back inside.

I dropped myself onto my sofa in the living room and turned on the TV. A murder mystery documentary immediately played on the Crime + Investigation channel, but it was almost over, so I scrolled through the TV guide.

There was absolutely nothing on.

Why the hell did I pay for this shit? I had Netflix and Hulu. Wasn’t that enough?

I scrolled through them both until I eventually settled on sighing and turning on Gilmore Girls. There was something comforting in watching one of your favorite shows over and over again.

I lay back and repositioned the cushions so I was comfortable. It was the episode where Rory and Dean got together, and I couldn’t help but tut my disapproval. That was because I knew what happened and, well, I liked to judge fictional characters who did things that I disapproved of.

I was worthy of being judged myself—hello, my little hissy fit about Preston being my competition? That was ridiculous and pathetic, and it was a miracle nobody had slapped me for it.

If Ava and Reagan had seen the full extent of it, they would have.

My phone beeped on the table, and I reached over to grab it. A message from Ava was on the screen, so I unlocked my phone and opened it.

AVA: All the girls at this damn bar are talking about how they finally get to make out with Preston at the fair.

I wrinkled my face up in disgust. This was the thing I’d been frustrated about.

ME: They do know there are rules, don’t they? It’s not a make-out contest.

AVA: Someone tried telling them that, but they didn’t listen. I think they all have hair appointments on Monday.

AVA: Some of them might even be getting their nails done.

ME: It’s a kissing booth, not a dating show.

AVA: Tell them that. They all think it’s a chance to convince Preston he’s madly in love with them.

ME: Does nobody here have anything better to do with their lives?

AVA: No.

AVA: It’s not like there are a bunch of options in this town. Preston is young, hot af, and loaded. He’s a prime catch.

ME: He’s also insanely annoying, cocky, and a pain in the ass.

AVA: That’s just how you feel about him.

ME: My feelings are usually right.

AVA: In your opinion.

ME: My opinions are usually right.

AVA: How are your raccoons?

ME: Presumably eating the sandwiches I left for them.

AVA: And you still think you’re a good judge of character?

ME: I’m an excellent judge of character. They don’t rummage through my trash anymore, do they? I’m a genius.

AVA: You have issues.

ME: Given that I run the library, I have lots of issues. Mostly of books.

REAGAN: What the fuck are you two talking about?

It was always nice when she popped into the group chat without reading the messages before.

ME: How many girls are going to suck face with your brother and seduce him in the next week.

REAGAN: I already bet that you’d lose, Hals.

AVA: SHE ISN’T GOING TO LOSE, REAGAN, YOU FAITHLESS BITCH.

REAGAN: Look, I’m usually all for Halley winning, but against my brother? Come on. Every single 20-something woman and a few 30-somethings have their eye on him. They’re going to be camping out the night before to kiss him first.

ME: Can we argue this tomorrow? I’m watching Gilmore Girls and I need to judge Rory for all her life choices. It’s hard when y’all are judging me.

AVA: She gets with Dean?

ME: Yeah.

REAGAN: She doesn’t know he’s married.

ME: It doesn’t excuse her behavior in the reboot, Reagan.

REAGAN: This is why you aren’t allowed to watch reboots.

ME: I have strong feelings.

AVA: Yeah, for Preston.

ME: Hey, Ava, how’s Butler?

REAGAN: LOLOLOL

AVA: I don’t know, I haven’t spoken to him tonight. He’s busy.

ME: It’s like talking to a donut.

REAGAN: Don’t insult donuts.

AVA: I know what you’re asking, idiots. I’m choosing not to rise to the bait. I’m not a fish.

ME: Whatever.

AVA: We all know it’s just so you don’t have to address your feelings for Preston.

ME: It’s a crush. That’s all. I can be attracted to an attractive man and still dislike him.

REAGAN: It’s true. But after nine years of a crush, I don’t think you can use that excuse anymore.

ME: It’s way more fun to judge people than it is to be judged.

AVA: We’re not judging you.

REAGAN: I’m totally judging you.

ME: I want new best friends. You should be supporting me through this difficult time.

AVA: …He’s your competition. He didn’t die in unexpected circumstances.

REAGAN: You don’t want new best friends. They couldn’t put up with your shit.

ME: I don’t want to listen to him kissing other people!!!!!!

And there it was. The real admission that I didn’t want to hear it happening. They didn’t really need me to say it, but I know they wanted me to. Just because they were pains in the damn ass.

REAGAN: Of course you don’t want to hear him kissing other women. Especially not the kind of women who’ll be lining up to kiss him.

AVA: I wouldn’t want to hear them, either. I hate the sound of people kissing. All those slurpy little tongue-slapping sounds aren’t my jam.

ME: Yeah, but you listen to classical music for fun. Not to relax, but for fun.

AVA: We aren’t all punk-rock heathens.

ME: I haven’t listened to punk-rock since I was sixteen.

REAGAN: You’re boring me now. I’m going to take a shower. Bye.

AVA: She’s… special.

ME: We’re all special, Ava. That’s why we’re friends. That’s how this works.

AVA: I want new friends.

ME: Nobody wants us. I just said that.

AVA: Right. Well, I’ll put out some feelers online, just in case.

ME: You do that, babe.

AVA: So… Brunch tomorrow?

ME: See you at Dana’s at ten.

CHAPTER SIX – HALLEY

Funfairs Aren’t Always Fun

The booth was done.

It felt surreal. I couldn’t believe that the fair was finally opening tonight and that the booth was ready to go.

Mostly because I hadn’t seen Preston for almost two days. Ever since he’d gotten done with the sign and helping me put out the posts, he’d disappeared, and I hadn’t heard from him at all.

I was torn. On the one hand, I was happy about that. The less time I had to spend with him, the better. It was going to be a rough week as it was, and Sunday was a dreadful day to start a summer fair.

Mostly because the first wave of people coming in were the people who’d spent their morning at church. We’d see the grandmas and the grandpas and the middle-aged folk who swore allegiance to Jesus but used the weekly Bingo night to flash their friskiness.

Which meant—oh, God, it meant that I’d be kissing wrinkled mouths for the next few hours.

I mean, it was okay. A lot of the old guys did occasionally kiss my cheek. The old women did the same. That wasn’t going to happen this year since Preston was my competition and, as a twenty-five-year-old, I wanted to kiss him over me.

I couldn’t blame the Bingo Babes if they wanted him over me, too.

Yes, it was amazing what a full night’s sleep could do. Granted, it was a full night on the sofa with Netflix going in the background, but whatever.

I put my hands on my hips and looked around the tent. There was nothing to do here, but I didn’t have anything to do anywhere else, either.

I wasn’t used to having nothing to do. I always had something to do.

Except for right now.

I smacked my lips together and sighed. Great. I could walk around the fairground and check it out now that it was all pretty much set up.

That was always fun. The part where people asked me to pass messages onto my dad… Not so much, but it was worth it to take in the magic of the fair without other people being around.

I grabbed my purse and left the tent, making sure to tie the heavy gold ropes together behind me. It was already hot, and Jesus Christ, the boob-sweat was real.

Boob-sweat was the kind of shit they needed to teach you in sex education in school.

Yes, girls, the boobs are useful.

Yes, boys, the boobs are nice to look at.

But the boob-sweat is neither useful nor nice. It’s awful and smelly and downright uncomfortable.

You’d think that Mother Nature would be nicer, given that she’s a woman and all that.

I itched under my boobs and looked around in case anyone had seen me. What? Nobody wanted to be seen rubbing at their boob sweat. It was kind of like scratching between your legs—we all did this, but we didn’t want anyone to see it.

Like peeing in relationships.

It happened, but the other person never saw it.

“That wasn’t very discreet.” Preston stepped up next to me, looking everywhere but right at me. “Boob sweat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied nonchalantly. “You’re here earlier than I thought you would be.”

“It’s opening day. I had to run to the drugstore to get fifty tubes of Chapstick.”

“Why do you need so many?”

“For all the kissing I’ll be doing. Obviously.”

“You’re not going to embark of a thousand frustrating teenage make-out sessions, Preston. They’re just pecks.” I rolled my eyes and turned in the direction of the food stalls.

The rich smell of hot donuts filled the air. I swear, drool filled my mouth, and my stomach rumbled at the mere idea of holding a bag full of hot, sugary dough in my mouth.

It was my favorite part of the fair. There was every chance I’d consume my body weight in hot donuts by the end of the week.

Oh, oh, and hot dogs.

Mm, hot dogs.

Was anyone selling those yet?

“You’re thinking about food, aren’t you?” Preston nudged me with his elbow.

I jerked back and blinked hard. “No. Why do you say that?”

“Because you keep looking at the hot donut stand like it has all the answers to your problems.”

“It’s a hot donut stand. Of course it has the answers to my problems.”

“I should have known you’d say that.”

“Why? Because it’s the truth? Preston, I’m telling you right now; there isn’t a damn problem on this planet that cannot be fixed by a bag full of hot donuts.”

“Earthquakes can’t be fixed by hot donuts. Neither can roof leaks. Or burst pipes, or broken windows or—”

“All right, all right.” I reluctantly tore myself away from the hot donut stand that wasn’t even open anyway and made a mental promise to myself to stop by there before the booth opened tonight. “I get your point, but I still stand by it.”

“I figured you would. Are you hungry? I know one of the fast-food stands are open.”

“I’m starving. Are there hot dogs?”

“Are there hot dogs? Fucking hell, Halley, it’s a fair. Of course there are hot dogs.”

“What are you waiting for? Take me to the hot dogs!”

Preston laughed and pointed in the direction of it. “Come on, then. But I’m not buying one for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to buy one. I can pay two bucks for a hot dog.”

“I know, I was just saying.”

“Whatever.” I followed him across the grass to where Angela Markham was selling hot dogs out of a van. It smelled absolutely divine, and even though I’d probably have to brush my teeth three times to get rid of the smell of the fast, greasy food, I didn’t care.

I was literally that hungry.

I bounced up to the van before him and grinned at the woman who’d once taught me high school geography. “Hey, Mrs. Markham. Are you selling yet?”

She turned around and gave me a toothy smile, her dark-brown eyes glittering. “I am for you, Halley. Just the one?”

“Two, but he’s paying for his own.” I jerked my head in Preston’s direction.

“And he’s not paying for yours?”

“I’d stick it up his ass before I’d let him pay.”

Preston snorted.

Angela laughed and pushed her dark hair behind her ear. “I hear you loud and clear, honey. Let me get you yours, and then I’ll see if your young man can charm me into making him one.”

“He’s not my young man,” I said at the exact moment Preston said, “I’m not her young man.”

Angela looked between us before she curled her lips into a smirk and winked at us. “Got it.”

I pursed my lips, but I said nothing as she turned and fixed my hot dog. I handed her two dollars and took my food with a smile.

Preston did the same, and after waving goodbye, we both headed in the direction of the middle of the fair.

“You’re here early,” I told him. “Nothing to do before the fair opens?”

“I thought you might need some help setting up, but when I poked my head in the tent, I saw you were all done.”

“Don’t your parents need help at their stall?”

“Nah.” He scrunched up his hot dog wrapper and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I already tried to go by there. Five people came by and asked for tickets for the kissing booth.”

I frowned. “But there aren’t tickets for the booth.”

Preston side-eyed me. “I know that. Everybody knows it. But that doesn’t stop people asking.”

“What do—” I stopped as I realized what he was saying.

Right. The girls who wanted to kiss him wanted tickets so they could get in there quickly.

He snorted. “You really don’t get along with most of the girls in this town, do you?”

I adjusted my glasses and scanned the games that promised you a goldfish if you won. “They’ve never gotten along with me. This isn’t a movie—being the mayor’s daughter isn’t always a good thing.”

“That and you’ve been attached to both Reagan and Ava since you were four-feet tall.”

“It’s not my fault Reagan is territorial. Besides, I’m not a fan of superficial people. You know as well as I do that in this town, money is everything, and what you do with it is even more important.”

In Creek Falls, you fell into one of two categories: you had money, or you didn’t. I fell into the former thanks to a couple of generations of my family running the town and being good with money. I had no intention of being mayor, so the Dawson reign of terror would end with my father.

Unfortunately, the money thing pretty much ruled the town. I didn’t care about it, which meant I wasn’t quite good enough for the other ‘rich girls’ to bother with—the same ones who were now all over Preston like flies on shit.

In fact, flies didn’t even like shit that much.

I guess shit didn’t have a large bank account or a future windfall.

Preston grunted. “That’s why everyone wants a ticket for me.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t.”

“Good to know. Has anyone asked you for tickets?”

“No. Everyone knows we don’t do tickets.” I tossed my hot dog wrapper in the trash can and turned toward the Ferris wheel that towered over the whole fair. “I guess nobody wants to kiss me half as much as they want to kiss you.”

He slid me a look but didn’t say a word. Instead, he did as I had and put his hot dog wrapper in the trash. I waited for a second longer for him to speak, but he didn’t.

And that was that.

Neither of us said another word.

***

“I hereby declare the Creek Falls summer fair… Open!” My father stood on the makeshift wooden stage and cut a shiny red ribbon that was inexplicably stretched across it.

Everyone who was going to the fair was already here, at the stage where the talent show would be on the final night.

It was a stupid-ass tradition.

Still, everyone cheered like it was the greatest thing in the world. Like he’d just opened a new hospital or the Empire State building or something.

I rolled my eyes and headed back in the direction of the kissing booth. It was a miracle that I managed to get through the crowd unscathed, but somehow, I did.

I was not at all surprised to find a line already forming outside the kissing booth tent.

Nope.

In fact, if Reagan or Ava were around, I’d have probably bet money on that. And I’d have won, just like I always did.

I scooted past the entire line until I reached the front. Preston was nowhere to be found. I wished I could say that I was surprised about it, but I just wasn’t.

I was about to untie the thick, gold ropes and step inside when a familiar voice made me stop.

“Halley Dawson,” said the silky, dulcet tones of my arch-nemesis, Lindsay Rinna.

I turned, hands still clasping the ropes, and glared at her. “Lindsay.”

“Would you be a doll and let me in so I can see Preston?”

“No,” I replied firmly. “The booth doesn’t open for another fifteen minutes. I’m not letting anyone in unless they’re supposed to be inside.”

She looked to the left where my line was slowly forming. It consisted of two older guys, three kids, and one very confused-looking teenager.

“I can see why.”

I gritted my teeth together and forced a smile. “You’ll be let in when we open in fifteen minutes. Besides, Preston isn’t here yet.”

“I’m here!” He jogged up behind me. “I’m here. Am I late?”

Lindsay flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Not for me.”

I took a deep breath and undid the tie on the rope. “Get inside, Romeo.” I grabbed the front of Preston’s shirt and dragged him inside after me. I released him the second we were in the darkness of the tent and yanked the curtains closed, using a heavy clip to ensure nobody could get inside.

“That wasn’t awkward at all,” he muttered, turning on the electric lights dotted around the tent that gave it a so-called romantic vibe.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Lindsay Rinna can suck it.”

“That’s so mature of you.”

“I pay my taxes. I’m mature enough without caring about my high school nemesis.”

“Your high school nemesis?” Preston raised his eyebrows. A small smile curved his lips as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it in the back corner. “How old are you now?”

“Old enough to remember everything that bitch did to me.” I put my purse down in the corner of my booth. We were now separated by the curtain. “I would happily leave this booth shut all night if it meant she had to stand out there all night.”

“Jesus, you’re catty. What did she ever do to you?”

I stopped just before I opened the curtain. “When I was fifteen, she found out I had a crush on her boyfriend. Her brother put a snake in my locker. When I was sixteen, she stole my lab partner because she knew he fancied her, and I failed the class. A few months later, she went back to the locker room in the middle of gym class and cut holes in my shirt so my bra would show all day.”

“Didn’t that happen in Mean Girls?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Regina George, and it didn’t catch on,” I said drily. “Also, is that all you took from all of that?”

“No. I get it. She was your high school nemesis. Don’t you think it’s time to grow out of that now?”

I yanked the curtain open and glared at him. “I don’t need to grow out of it. We’ll never get along, so that’s the end of it.”

He raised his eyebrows, but he said nothing as he turned around and took his seat on the wooden stool that would be his perch for the next few days. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

“I hope Lindsay gives you herpes.”

“Sometimes, I wonder why you’re single. I just found out why.”

“I’m not a bitch to everyone. Only the people who piss me off.” I smiled sweetly at him and headed toward the front of the tent. I poked my head out of the curtains and looked around for the volunteers who would be controlling the lines.

“We’re here, Miss Halley.” Two teen boys ran up between the lines and the one who’d spoken wiped sweat from his forehead. “Sorry. We got caught in the crowds.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry. Joe, you’re on my line.” I pointed to my line. “Will, you’re on Preston’s, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Halley,” Will replied.

That was going to get real old. At least they weren’t calling me ma’am…

“Officer Daniels is just over there and will help you if you have any issues.” I turned my pointer finger to the dark-skinned police officer who was in uniform only a few feet from here. He shot me a thumb up. “Any issues, even if it’s as simple as nobody listening to you, you let him know, okay?”

Both boys nodded.

I patted their cheeks. “Okay. You remember what we went over yesterday?”

Joe nodded. “Dollars to us at the front of the line. In the left side, out on the right. Two dollars per person. No dollars, no kiss.”

“Nailed it. You can start letting everyone in in a minute.”

“Yes, Miss Halley.”

I closed over the curtains and walked up to the stage. “Ready?” I asked Preston.

He met my gaze. “Ready to kiss a bunch of hot young women? I was born for this, Halley.”

I rolled my eyes. “No tongues, Romeo.”

“But—”

“No ifs, no buts, no coconuts.” I pointed at him. “If someone slips you the tongue, bite it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve done that before?”

“Come and kiss me and find out for yourself.”

He held up his hands. “I’m all for a little biting, but on the neck or something. Maybe a nibble on the lower lip—little nip on the inner thigh, you know?”

“That’s far more than I need to know about your sexual preferences, thank you.” I climbed onto my side of the stage, dipping my head so he wouldn’t see me blushing.

Lord, I hoped he hadn’t seen me blushing.

I’d never live it down if he had.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone,” Preston said from the other side of the curtain. “I don’t need those harlots outside knowing where I like to be nibbled.”

“So I can’t call them your harem, but you can call them harlots?”

“I was gonna call them total babes, but I didn’t think you’d like that.”

“You can call the women of this town whatever you like.”

“God knows you do.”

“Exactly.” There was a slight pause before we both laughed. I bit mine back and cleared my throat. “Are you ready? The boys are about to open the tent.”

“Let’s do this, Halley.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I let it back out.

Let’s do this, indeed.

CHAPTER SEVEN – HALLEY

Kissin’ Ain’t Easy

My lips were dry and sore, and it’d been one night.

My line had been a parade of teen boys. One after another they’d lined up, ready to slap their lips against mine. I was fully aware that I was the first kiss of at least six teenage boys tonight.

Apparently, the kissing booth was the cool place to get your first kiss.

Call me old fashioned, but a first kiss was something you’d remember forever, and I felt like it needed to be special.

It was like having your first kiss in a relationship. I didn’t want to marry a guy and know that our first kiss was a dare, for example. I wanted it to mean something.

The teen boys in my line didn’t feel the same way.

Neither did all the twenty-something women in Preston’s line.

I wasn’t bitter.

All right, I was a little bit bitter.

It was a shit situation to be in. There wasn’t much worse than listening to the guy you had a stupid crush on kissing other women repeatedly.

That was my issue with this whole thing. It wasn’t that it was happening, but more than I had to listen to it. That and all the giggling from the women in line waiting to kiss Creek Falls’ most eligible bachelor.

The fair was due to start at midday today. There was a huge horse show on the field adjoining the fairground that was due to start today, so there would be a huge influx of people coming into town for the show.

I didn’t care a bit about it. I wasn’t a horse person. To be honest, I wasn’t even a raccoon person, but here I was, standing on my back porch, cleaning out their bowls with hot, soapy water.

I guess people could change.

As long as I didn’t change much more, it’d be fine.

I finished up cleaning the bowls and headed back inside. I drained the water down the sink and tossed the wet rag into the basin after it.

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I picked it up in one hand and my coffee in the other.

REAGAN: What time are you getting to the fair? I have to deliver flowers to my parents.

ME: 11ish.

REAGAN: Wanna grab coffee before the booth opens?

ME: Are you paying?

REAGAN: No.

ME: Fine. Is Ava around?

REAGAN: She had another fight with Butler last night. I’ll text her.

ME: Meet you at your parents’ stall?

REAGAN: Yep. See you then.

***

By the time I’d showered and gotten ready for the day, my coffee was cold. Instead of making it again, I walked the short distance from my house to the fairground. After showing my volunteer pass to the guy at the entrance, I headed in the direction of The Wright Bouquet’s stall.

It wasn’t too hard to find. The Wrights had had the same stall since I could remember, and even if I didn’t know, there was no missing the giant tulip that stretched several feet above all the other stalls.

It smelled freaking gorgeous. The closer I got, the richer the smell was. I loved it, and visiting the flower stores had always been something I’d looked forward to when I was younger. I’d even worked in the flagship store here in Creek Falls when I was a teenager and wanted extra money on the weekend.

Working in a florist was harder than you’d think. I actually had a scar on my thumb from a particularly bitchy little thorn on a rose stem.

A vibrant sprig of lavender was one of the first plants I saw as I reached the front. Gently, I put out my hand and pulled it toward me to smell it.

“Morning, Halley!”

I jumped at the sound of Anton Wright’s voice. “You scared the life out of me!”

He chuckled, rubbing his hands on the stained apron that covered his front. “Sorry, darlin’. I thought you knew I was here.”

“I guessed, but I was too busy smelling your lavender.” I grinned and stepped away before the scent was embedded in my skin for the next week. “Is Reagan here yet?”

“She was here with Ava about ten minutes ago. She told me to ask you to head over to the food stalls. Something about coffee being on her and if you brought whiskey, it’s a bonus.”

I grimaced. “Oh, dear. It’s like that.”

He winked. “Are you going to stop by and get something? In fact—you don’t have to buy. You’re stuck with my son for the week. The flowers are on me.”

Laughing, I took a step back. “Well, if I knew I would get free flowers for babysitting his ass, I might have considered doing it a long time ago.”

Anton laughed and waved me goodbye as I turned in the direction of the food stalls. While most of the attractions were spread out evenly, a huge section of the fair was for food only. It was where the Ferris’ barbecue stall was, but there was every other kind of food you could imagine.

My stomach rumbled. I knew for a fact that Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence had a stall for their crepes this year, and I would kill for one with strawberries and Nutella.

Maybe when I was done being a good friend.

“I’m done with him!” Ava said the second she saw me. She looked exhausted, and her red-rimmed eyes gave away that she’d been crying already today. Her glasses only enhanced the tired air that hummed around her. “That’s it! No more! I mean it!”

Reagan met my eyes. “She’s been telling me that for twenty minutes.”

“Because it’s true!” Ava rammed her fist against the table.

“Mind the coffee!” Reagan grabbed my cup and handed it to be. “Here. Before The BFG over here spills it everywhere.”

“It’s nice to know you care about me so much.”

I sighed and sat down. “Ava, we love you, and that’s why we’re going to be honest with you. You’ve been here a thousand times before. You and Butler don’t work. You keep going back to him only to boomerang back to here. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

Reagan raised her eyebrows. “See? She agrees with me. Butler is a hack.”

“I didn’t say he was a hack,” I said quickly. “But I do agree that the relationship has run its course. You do nothing but fight.”

“I know.” Ava sniffed. “I don’t even think I love him, you know? I just… he’s comfortable. I guess I always figured that we’d work it out and it would be okay, but you’re right. It’s done, isn’t it? It’s never going to work.”

I nodded slowly, reaching over and squeezing her arm.

“No, it’s not,” Reagan said firmly. “Besides, we all know that, like Halley is hopelessly in love with my brother, you’re hopelessly in love with Ethan.”

I choked on my coffee. “I am not hopelessly in love with your brother!”

“I am not hopelessly in love with Ethan!” Ava said only a beat after I did. “I cannot stand him!”

“Can I have him then?”

“You want to date my brother’s best friend?” Ava’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Go ahead. Then you’ll see how much of an insufferable asshole he is.”

Reagan leaned forward. “See, this is how I know y’all love them. You both hate them. You’re hiding your feelings behind hatred because it’s easier than admitting you want to ride them like motorized bulls.”

“The only part of your brother I want to ride is my foot into his balls.” I put my coffee down on the table and pushed my hair behind my ear. “Being attracted to someone does not mean you’re in love with them.”

Except I was. Kinda. A little. And I was pretty sure Ava was actually in love with Ethan, but that was none of my business unless she was willing to admit it.

And, unlike Reagan, I wouldn’t press her on it.

It was like freakin’ good cop, bad cop over here.

“Whatever you say,” Reagan said. “How’s it going, listening to him kissing other women for hours?”

“We’re not here to talk about me. We’re comforting Ava,” I said quickly.

Ava barked a short laugh. “Come on, you can make me feel better. How bad is it?”

I groaned, slumping forward. “It’s not even the kissing. It’s the who. Lindsay Rinna was front and freakin’ center, ready to pucker her ass-lips up to kiss him.”

Both of their faces scrunched up. We’d all been on the receiving end of Lindsay’s wrath in high school.

“He’s not interested in her,” Reagan said. “Nobody with a brain cell is.”

Even Ava shook her head. “There’s no way. She’s too high maintenance for him. Preston is too chill to deal with her dramas.”

“I don’t care.” I plucked a leaf off the table and dropped it onto the floor.

“You care.”

“Only because it’s Lindsay.”

“Some things don’t change.” Reagan sighed and propped her chin on her hands. “What are y’all doing today?”

“Kissing people,” I muttered.

Ava slid me a look. “I have nothing to do. I had plans with Butler, but…” She shrugged. “Leo isn’t in town until tomorrow. His plane got delayed out of Detroit—something to do with thunderstorms or some crap.”

Reagan looked at me. “How long are you at the booth today?”

I smacked my lips together. “Twelve ‘til three, then four-thirty ‘til seven, then seven-thirty ‘til nine-thirty.”

Ava shuddered.

“That’s a lot of kissing. Or listening to kissing.” Reagan waggled her eyebrows.

I blinked at her, then finished my coffee. “I don’t have to listen to this. I’m going to find someone who won’t piss me off before I have to deal with other people.”

“Good luck!” Reagan called as I got up and threw my cup in the nearest trash can. “We’ll come kiss you later!”

I flipped her the bird over my shoulder and left them both laughing their asses off at me.

I was charging their asses ten dollars a kiss.

CHAPTER EIGHT – PRESTON

Pretzels Are For Winners

I slipped into the tent from the side, avoiding the line that was already forming outside the front of the booth. There was still thirty minutes until the booth opened, but I already had a fucking fanbase out there waiting.

Once again, I was asking myself why the hell I’d agreed to this.

I should have guessed that I would be in trouble. That there’d be a long line of admirers outside, waiting to kiss me and seduce me into marrying them.

The joke was on them. I wasn’t interested in marriage—at least not to the kind of girls who wanted to marry me.

I knew this town. I was born and raised here, and that meant I was well acquainted with every single nook and cranny, every alley and shortcut, and every dirty little secret.

The biggest dirty little secret wasn’t a secret at all—it was that money talked. And money was hot. And people wanted to marry money.

That meant that I was a sitting duck for everyone in my generation who wasn’t already married or engaged.

I was young, I was handsome, and I came from a family that had money—hard-earned money.

It also meant I never got a break.

Reagan didn’t get shit like this. Neither did Halley. Given that Reagan was my sister and Halley’s dad was the mayor and had money in his own right, they should get the same treatment that I did.

But they didn’t.

That was probably the fact they weren’t anywhere near as charming as I was. They were more liable to eating you alive and spitting you back out in a near-dead state than anything else.

Now, I loved my sister, but if she weren’t my sister, I wouldn’t date her. She was hard work.

As for Halley…

I didn’t want to talk about Halley. The last thing I needed was to get a boner before I had to sit on that stupid fucking stool and kiss a bunch of people. There’d been more than enough ‘accidental’ swipes of a hand across my lap yesterday night.

The only hand I wanted near my dick was my own.

And maybe Halley’s.

But that was a story for another day—or another shower.

Shit.

I rubbed my hands down my face and looked around the tent. It was still eerily calm in here, despite the people who were outside and making a ton of noise.

It was a weird place to be.

I sat on the stool on my side of the booth. It smelled awful in here—like dust and history and, well, mothballs. How the hell did Halley handle this every year?

Shit, I knew.

It was because she was a good person. An inherently good person who wanted the best for everyone else, and she’d put herself through hell and sitting in a musky tent if it meant giving other people a better life.

Maybe I had her on a pedestal. Maybe I held Halley Dawson to a really high standard, and she wasn’t actually that perfect, but I doubted it.

She’d never been anything other than a sickeningly nice person for as long as I’d known her.

Which, if you asked my dick, was far too long.

I blew out a long breath and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I clasped my hands in front of me and looked around. It was almost a quarter to twelve now, and Halley still wasn’t here.

It wasn’t like her at all.

This might have been my first year in the booth, but if there was one thing I knew about Halley, it was that this booth was her baby. She was never ever late.

She was too early, in fact. A bit like a teenage boy losing his virginity.

It was a little scary that she wasn’t here.

Mostly because I was thinking about her far too much for someone who wasn’t directly in front of me.

I also had absolutely no business thinking about her. She was my sister’s best friend, for the love of God. I needed the rest of me to get that damn memo, though, because it was seriously lagging right now.

My attraction to the feisty blonde librarian was a moot point. She and I could not and would not ever be together. We were like chalk and cheese, and I was ninety percent sure she didn’t even like me as a person.

There was no chance of kissing her, let alone anything else.

I was okay with that. Even though Halley was just about the only person I would entertain dating right now—

Wait, shit, no, that wasn’t right.

Someone like her.

Or maybe Halley herself, if it meant I got to pull back the layers of her life and find out what was wrong with her.

Something had to be wrong with her.

I fucking stood by that. Nobody, ever, could be as perfect as she appeared to be.

The curtain swung open, and Halley stormed in. Her hair flew around her head, framing it like a lion’s mane, and she shoved the curtain shut behind her with a shout of, “Shut your mouth, Lindsay!”

My lips tugged to one side. Ah. My friend Lindsay was outside again. I wasn’t surprised about that—when she’d come in here to kiss me last night, she’d whispered something in my ear that would have made a room full of gigolos blush.

Unfortunately for her, it hadn’t even made my cock twitch.

“What are you looking at?” Halley snapped, turning to me with a flick that made her hair go even wilder. “Do you want a picture?”

“Whoa, where did that come from?” I held up my hands. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“No, but you’re looking at me as though you’ve just seen a bunch of nudes and are figuring out how to exploit me.”

“That’s an interestingly accurate situation. Have you been there before?”

“Preston, fuck off.”

I got up and jumped off the stage. “Hey, what’s up?” I moved the ropes to the side and walked over to her.

It was against my better judgment, I won’t lie. Approaching an angry Halley was probably close to waving a red flag at an angry bull.

She huffed, turning, and hit me with a dark look. Her bright blue eyes were red hot, flaring with the annoyance she wasn’t bothering to hide at all. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Any woman who says that she’s fine is not fine.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Any woman who repeats that she’s fine is definitely not fine.”

“Any man who keeps harping on at a woman who’s said she’s fine is cruising for a bruising!”

“Feisty.” I grinned and put my hands in my pockets.

“Don’t, Preston.” She dropped her purse on the ground and fluffed her hands through her hair. “I have to switch on and pretend like I want to be here today when I don’t, all right? Just leave it.”

I looked at her for a moment as she pulled a mirror out of her purse, flipped it open, and checked her reflection. After a moment of looking, she pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse, too, and uncapped it.

She applied it expertly, painting her full lips in a scarlet red color that matched both her glasses and earrings today.

Don’t ask me how I knew that. I didn’t want to fucking address it right now.

Halley pressed her lips together before she put a folded up tissue between them, blotted her lipstick on it, then herself again in the mirror.

I would never understand women.

She stood up and tucked the tissue into her ass pocket. “Let’s do this. Joe! Let ‘em in!”

I paused as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and jumped up onto the stage, taking her stool and plastering a smile on her face like she hadn’t just been snapping at me.

The curtains swished, and I stepped up onto my side of the stage and sat on the stool. There was barely any room between us, but that didn’t stop me leaning back and saying, “I know you’re not fine.”

“Shut up, Preston.”

“We’re going to talk about this.”

“No, we aren’t!”

“We are.”

“We aren’t!”

She got the last word because the curtains opened fully and allowed in the people who’d been waiting outside. My line was a mix of young women and older ones, from twenty-somethings to at least seventy. Halley’s was more focused on the teens and the older guys, but there were a few men in there close to our age.

I ignored how my stomach flipped with annoyance.

She could kiss anyone she wanted, just like I could.

I had no claim to her.

That didn’t mean to say I had to like it.

The only way I’d get through this week would be if I actually got to kiss her so I’d stop thinking about it for ten minutes.

“Hey, Halley.” I leaned back closer to the curtain.

“What?” she hissed back.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Not with you.”

“Why? You afraid you’ll lose?”

She snorted. “I don’t lose bets, Preston.”

“Then bet with me.”

“Ugh. Fine. What’s the deal?”

“I bet I’ll kiss more people than you today.”

“Done. How much?”

I smirked with a glance at my line. “Whoever loses has to line up on the other side of the booth and add another kiss to the winner's tally.”

Silence.

“Halley?”

“Fine. You’re on. You’re going down, flower boy.”

I covered a laugh with a cough as Lindsay Rinna approached the stage for my first kiss of the day.

It didn’t matter if I did go down.

Either way, I’d kiss her by bedtime.

***

The soft, hot pretzels burned my hands through the thin napkins I’d been given to carry them. At five bucks apiece, you’d think they’d give you a paper plate at the very least.

Or two napkins.

I wasn’t fussy.

I shouldered my way into the tent. We'd finished the second session of the booth and were waiting for the third to start. I hadn’t eaten all day since my earlier break had been dedicated to helping my parents at their stall since Reagan had weaseled her way out of it this year.

I was starving. I was tired, I was hungry, and I needed a goddamn beer.

I also needed a chapstick.

If anyone ever thought kissing a bunch of women was a dream come true, I had a disappointing dose of reality for them.

All it’d given me was chapped lips and a case of sexual frustration.

“Here.”

Halley looked up from her phone, her eyes widening when she caught a glimpse of me. “Is that for me?”

“Nah, I’m eating them both. I’m just holding one out to you to tease you.”

She pursed her red lips, her gaze darkening ever so slightly. “You’re hard work, Preston.”

I shrugged, shooting her a half-grin. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Thanks.” She put down her phone and took the pretzel from me. “Ouch. Crap, you’re right.” She immediately laid it on her lap and licked her fingers. “Aren’t they doing paper plates anymore?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll have to talk to my father.”

“You sound like Draco Malfoy when you say that?”

She’d just ripped a bit of pretzel off when she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Wrong. If I sounded like Malfoy, I’d have told you that my father would hear about it. I just said I’d talk to him.”

“Perks of being the mayor’s daughter, right?”

“Hardly. He’s never listened to my suggestions.” She shrugs. “Neither does anyone else, to be honest, even when they really should.”

“Like what?”

“Like when I tell my mom that three marriages are more than enough for anyone and she doesn’t need a fourth.” She paused for a moment. “I think she just likes the weddings.”

“She gets to be a princess and be the center of attention. Don’t most women love that?”

The shudder that wracked her body told me that Halley was not most women.

“No, thank you. I can’t think of anything worse than being the center of attention for an entire day just because I fell in love with someone.”

“You’re the center of attention during the fair every year.”

“Wrong. I’m a mild sideline attraction, and it’s all for charity. That’s different. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it to help other people. This booth has raised a thousand dollars for the last four years because people pay more than a dollar. Then my dad quietly matches the donation. Two thousand dollars is a lot of money to the charities we help.”

Wow. I had no idea that her dad matched the donation and doubled it.

I glanced over at her. There was a little twinkle in her eye, and it hit me: she really did care. This really was about the charity for her, about making a difference to other people’s lives.

Shit.

She really was perfect, wasn’t she?

“Is there anything wrong with you at all?” The words escaped me before I could stop them.

Halley choked. She hit her fist against her chest, and her eyes watered. “What?” Her voice was scratchy and rough, and she looked at me with confusion clouding her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head and got up for my water on the other side of the tent.

“No, tell me. What do you mean, is there anything wrong with me at all?”

I sighed. There was no getting out of this with her. “Fine.” I held my hands out either side of my body. “You’re beautiful, you’re thoughtful, you’re perhaps the most caring person I’ve ever met, and you feed raccoons, for the love of God. What is wrong with you?”

She blinked at me for a few seconds—quick, confused blinks, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe I’d just said that.

She was in good company.

I couldn’t fucking believe it either.

Then, she laughed. A huge laugh that almost made her drop her pretzel. “What are you saying?” she asked when she’d gotten herself back under control. “Are you saying I’m perfect or something?”

“If the shoe fits…”

She shook her head emphatically, her blonde curls swinging side to side. “I’m not perfect.”

“From my point of view, there isn’t much wrong with you.”

“There’s a lot wrong with me. I’m just really good at hiding it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t feed the raccoons out of the goodness of my heart. I feed them so they don’t thumb through my trash like the little grub monsters they are.”

My lips twitched. “You still feed them.”

“Okay, fine. I can’t cook.”

“You can’t cook?” I stared at her. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

She shook her head again. “At all. My mom can’t really cook, and my dad never had time to teach me. My stepmom tries, but I’m just really bad at it. Last week, I burned spaghetti.”

“How do you burn spaghetti?”

“Because you don’t put enough water in and forget to stir it, okay?” she grumbled. “It happens. Sometimes you fall asleep. Sometimes you get caught in the middle of a How I Met Your Mother Netflix binge.”

“The last one sounds the most likely.”

“I don’t have to respond to that.”

“Ah, but you did, and your response tells me everything I need to know.” I grinned. “So, what’s your kiss tally so far?”

Halley leaned back, adjusted her glasses, and looked at the chalkboard we both had to mark off our kisses. “Fifty-two.”

I pursed my lips. “Damn it.”

“I have more than you?”

“I hate to say it, but yes.”

She gave me a grin of her own and ripped off a piece of pretzel. “Pucker up, flower boy.”

CHAPTER NINE – HALLEY

Kissin' Ain't Easy

I closed my eyes as ninety-year-old Gerard Hooper leaned over and pressed his wrinkled lips against mine.

It was gross. Let me tell you that. It was like being kissed by your grandpa, except your grandpa had spent the entire day at the bar and was steaming drunk.

He tasted like beer and stale cigars.

I knew that smell would linger with me for hours.

With any luck, it would, and it would get me out of my bet with Preston.

What was I thinking, agreeing to that? To kissing him? I’d gone and lost my damn mind. It was the only explanation for it. It didn’t matter if I won or not, because the result was the same.

We would kiss.

The only way this would be bearable would be if I kissed his cheek. Unfortunately for me, I only had control over one of these scenarios.

I would either win and kiss his cheek, or he’d win, and he’d… well, who knew what he’d do?

I had no idea why he’d suggested it in the first place. It was a terrible idea. Nothing good could come of it.

God only knew what kissing Preston Wright would do to me.

It’d keep me up at night for weeks. It would consume my waking thoughts. One little kiss would become an unhealthy obsession.

This was not good.

And there were only ten minutes until we closed. Until we’d find out who won.

Until there was the potential of me kissing the one person who was off-limits to me.

It was a disaster.

It was a stupid, stupid bet. One that I would damn sure never repeat again—not that it got me out of it right now.

I kissed my final person of the night, an adorable six-year-old boy who’d just won his first stuffed animal on the hook-a-duck game. It was a wonky-looking donkey, with one eye almost twice as big as the other, and a tail that looked as if it was going to fall off any second. The exasperation was written all over his mom’s face, but it quickly disappeared when he lisped to me that he wanted to help someone with his last two dollars of the money he'd earned doing some chores for his sick grandma.

Because he was just the sweetest thing, I kissed his cheek, let him kiss me back on the cheek, and listened to a story about how he went to the moon with his favorite Superman action figure. Then, when it was all said and done, he high-fived me and skipped off.

His mom mouthed a thank you as she hurried after him, and I couldn’t help but grin like a lunatic as she chased him down in the doorway of the tent.

“Cute.”

I looked back at Preston. There was a playful glint in his eyes. “What?”

“That. Humoring the kid.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I? The line is shut, and I probably made his day.”

“You’re right. I guess you’re just an inherently better person than I am.”

It took everything I had to bite back a groan. “Not this again.”

He held up his hands and took a step back. “All right, all right. Are you ready? I’m here to collect on my winning bet.”

Rolling my eyes, I added one final mark to my tally chart. It took me around a minute to add up the groups of five plus a couple of stragglers.

Peering up at Preston, just over the rims of my glasses, I said, “What did you get?”

“Ninety-three.”

My heart sank.

Shit.

He’d beat me. At some point in the last couple of hours, he had out kissed me.

By one person.

One. Freaking. Person.

Double shit.

“What did you get?”

I swallowed hard. “Ninety-two.”

He froze. Surprise flashed across his handsome features, swiftly followed by absolute delight. He burst out laughing, grabbing his stomach as it hit him.

“One? I beat you by one?”

“Whatever.” I took my money, put it in a safety deposit box, and looked at him expectantly. “Well? Your money?”

Preston disappeared for a second before he handed me a wad of small bills from his side. I took them and put them with mine in the box before locking it and storing it safely in my purse.

“Let’s get this over with, then.” I hopped off the stage and dipped under the ropes to his side. “What are you staring at me for? I don’t have all evening. I have some rowdy raccoons to feed. If I’m late and they rummage in my trash, I’m calling you to come to clean up.”

His smile was lopsided, playful almost, and he slid across the stage, past the curtain and sat on his stool. “I wouldn’t want to starve your raccoons.”

“They aren’t my raccoons.”

“Whoever they belong to. We made a deal, and now you have to pay up.”

My heart thundered in my chest. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to kiss Preston? Right here, right now? On the lips?

That was the deal, wasn’t it?

I approached the stage.

No, it wasn’t the deal. Where the kiss could be placed was never specified. Just that we had to add a kiss to the winner’s tally.

I could do this.

I stepped up onto his side of the stage and dug a dollar out of my ass pocket. I brandished it in his direction with a small smile, then stepped over toward him.

His eyes followed me everywhere. He watched me like a hawk. It was unnerving and downright weird because he was looking at me like—

Like he wanted me to kiss him.

That didn’t make any sense. There was no way the hottest bachelor in town and my best friend’s brother wanted me to kiss him.

Was there?

This was too much for me. If it weren’t for the fact that I was a woman of my word where bets were concerned, I’d be running away right now.

Goddamn me, being a woman of my world. Morals were so overrated.

I walked right up to Preston. Bending over, I looked him in the eye, holding his gaze until it became so intense that a shiver danced its way down my spine.

Then I kissed his cheek. I planted a big, firm, red-lipped kiss on his stubbly cheek.

When I pulled away, there was a lipstick mark on his skin and the look of total shock in his eyes.

“The bet didn’t say where we had to kiss,” I whispered.

My lips pulled into a smirk, and I jumped off the stage. I broke into a run and darted out of the tent before he could argue otherwise.

I vaguely heard him shouting my name, but I disappeared into the insanity of the fair, falling in amongst the throngs of excited people who were having the time of their lives.

I’d gotten away with it.

That was one more day where I didn’t have to kiss Preston Wright.

I just had to make it through four more.

***

“You did what?”

The second I’d gotten home, I’d made a round or two of peanut butter sandwiches and refilled the water bowl on my porch. Before I’d had a chance to think, Reagan and Ava had come swinging in through my front door with stuff to make margaritas. They hadn’t taken no for an answer, despite my desire to just climb into bed and forget how Preston's stubble had felt against my lips.

“I kissed his cheek.” I sipped my margarita. “We made a deal, and nowhere in that deal did it state that I had to kiss him on the lips. Kissing Booth rules dictate that cheek kisses count, so that’s what I did.”

Reagan exploded with laughter, sucking her drink up her nose until she choked. Her eyes watered and she went red until Ava handed her a bottle of water to wash it down with.

“I think that’s genius.” Ava sat back down. “Kissing people complicates things. You’re stuck there for a few more days, and the last thing you need is to sit opposite him and know exactly what it’s like to kiss him.”

“Yeah,” Reagan said scratchily. “It’s totally better for her to be imagining it instead.”

I groaned. “Look, we all know it’s never going to happen.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Because your brother is tall and hot and funny and rich and I feed peanut butter sandwiches to raccoons.”

“I actually happen to think it’s one of your better qualities.”

Ava nodded solemnly. “She’s right. It shows your kind side. You know, the one that sometimes gets overshadowed by your sass.”

“I do not sass.”

“You sass all the time.”

It was Reagan’s turn to nod.

“Yeah, well, you two are hardly the poster girls for a sarcasm-free life.”

“Eh.” Reagan shrugged one shoulder. “Life would be boring without sarcasm.”

She was not wrong.

“It’s just not in the cards, okay? We’re only getting along because we don’t have a choice. Otherwise, we don’t. We aren’t suddenly going to become friends.”

“Why don’t you get along?” Ava sat forward and paused to slurp the rest of her margarita up through her straw. “I don’t know if I’ve ever actually asked that. Jesus, fifteen years of friendship, and I never cared.”

“There is no reason.” Reagan’s tone was dry, but her lips were quirking up in a way that was so like her brother’s. “They’re civil, but they aren’t friends.”

“But why?”

“Because they have a raging fucking crush on each other and have never bothered to say anything.”

I spat my drink over my lap.

“It makes it super awkward because they ignore it, so it has the effect of them appearing to hate each other when it isn’t true. They want to jump each other’s bones, but since neither of them wants to admit it, they jump down each other’s throats instead.”

“They should try putting tongues down each other’s throats instead.”

“Ooooookay!” I waved my arms in front of me in a ‘quit it’ motion, a bit like a referee finishing a boxing match. “That’s enough of that. There will be no putting tongue’s anywhere, at least until you two are done licking each other’s asses about this.”

Reagan made a face like a thirteen-year-old who’d just been grounded for a week for breaking curfew. Nose scrunched up, lips pursed into an asshole-like pucker, and narrowed eyes.

I grinned, cupping my glass. “See? It’s not nice.”

“Whatever. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like your lack of a love life?”

“Yours isn’t thrilling if you’re kissing the guy you like on the cheek.”

“We all have shit love lives,” Ava said before we could descend further into bickering. “Reagan, you have no discernible love life whatsoever, Halley is too shy to ever admit to Preston how she really feels, and me and Butler are over for good—”

Reagan’s lips tugged to the side. “And that’s before you even think about the fact you have feelings for Ethan.”

Ava’s expression soured at the mention of her older brother’s best friend. “We are not discussing Ethan.”

“Let’s not discuss this at all,” I said, leaning forward to refill my drink. “All we’re going to do is hash over stuff that’ll make us feel like crap, so we’ll drink until we’re giggling at cat videos on the internet, pass out squished in my bed, and be monstrously hungover tomorrow.” I adjusted my glasses. “And none of us need that. God only knows that I don’t need to be hungover while kissing other people.”

“I have a wedding bouquet spread to finalize tomorrow,” Reagan said. “Plus a meeting with the bride in the afternoon. I definitely cannot be hungover.”

Ava looked between us. “I’ll get drunk. It’s my day off.”

I laughed. “By yourself?”

“What do you think I’d be doing if I was at home?”

“Your laundry?” Reagan asked.

“Nope. I’d be getting hammered, eating my weight in pizza, and probably watching a rom-com on Netflix so I can yell at the people getting happily ever afters. It’s like therapy, but it only costs ten bucks a month instead of a hundred an hour.”

Actually, that sounded like fun.

Reagan looked at me. “I’ll order the pizza.”

CHAPTER TEN – HALLEY

The Queen of Bad Decisions

I regretted the final pitcher of margaritas the second I woke up.

My head spun like the teacup ride on crack. I was pretty sure my tongue had swollen to three times its usual size overnight, and my mouth felt like a tornado had swept over the beach and dumped all the sand in my mouth.

Rolling over, I squinted at my nightstand. Two little white pills sat next to a bottle of water, and I silently thanked yesterday’s Halley for putting that there before we made the final pitcher.

The only problem was the fact there was a body in the way.

Thankfully, the body was Reagan.

“Don’t mind me,” I muttered, leaning right over her to grab my glass and the aspirin.

She groaned as I sat up and tossed the pills into my mouth and quickly washed them down. I finished up the glass of water in a few gulps and leaned over again to set it back down.

Well, at least my mouth didn’t feel like the bottom of a flip-flop anymore.

Silver linings and all that.

I somehow managed to clamber out of bed without kneeing either of my best friends in the face or the stomach. It was a lot harder than it sounded since Ava was a raging bed hog.

She had at least half of my king-sized bed, leaving me and Reagan to squish on one side. Reagan had it better than I did since she was on the edge. I was squashed between two grown women, one of whom had bigger boobs the other two of us put together.

Cough, cough, in the direction of the bed hog, Ava.

I almost fell off the end of the bed and stubbed my toe on the leg. “Ouch!”

“What?!” Ava jolted awake, almost sitting bolt upright. “Are we being burgled? Who’s kidnapping us?”

“No, you sheet stealer,” Reagan snapped, yanking the sheets over to her side. “It’s Halley waking up.”

“Although I’d totally offer you up if there was a kidnapper,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my stiff neck. I’d spent half the night avoiding her wayward elbows.

I left the room before she could reply and locked myself in the bathroom. The thumping in my head hadn’t subsided at all, and my teeth felt all gummy like I hadn’t brushed them for a week.

I turned on the shower and brushed my teeth while it got up to temperature. It was a day for a scalding hot one, so I scrubbed at my teeth, gums, and tongue until the bathroom was filled with steam and I couldn’t see myself in the mirror anymore.

Narrowly avoiding stubbing my toe on the way into the cubicle, I breathed a sigh of relief as the hot air pounded down onto me.

I spent a good fifteen minutes soaking in the hot water and washing myself off. Despite my headache, I was feeling much better when I finally exited the steamy bathroom and went in search of my glasses.

I located them on the coffee table and ignored the mess that was there. Two pizza boxes, a box that had held potato wedges, empty glasses, lonely and dry slices of lime, and two empty pints of ice-cream all accompanied the stack of tissues that we’d left in a pile on the floor, thanks to our cry-a-ton.

Note to self: do not watch The Notebook while drunk.

It doesn’t end well.

I clutched the towel to my chest and went back into my room. Ava was asleep again, snoring with her mouth wide open in an expression my stepmom liked to call ‘catching flies.’ Reagan was awake and on her phone, swiping her thumb up and down the screen.

She glanced over at me. “Nice hair.”

I flipped her the bird and went to my dresser. “You’re working today?”

She nodded. “Yeah. That bridal spread I said last night. Although I had a voicemail from the bride saying she wants to meet tomorrow instead as something came up.” She shrugged. “Works for me, since someone is a bad influence.” She nodded in Ava’s direction.

“You’re adults,” Ava muttered, snorting and rolling over so she wasn’t facing us anymore. “Don’t blame me for your bad decisions.”

She had a point.

“Go get a shower. I’ll get dressed and turn the coffee maker on.” I pulled underwear out of the top drawer.

Reagan peeled herself out of bed and came over to me, plucking a peach, lace bra out of the drawer. “This makes your boobs look good.”

I looked down at it. “I don’t want my boobs to look good.”

“Why not? You should always want your boobs to look good.”

“Because there’s nobody to appreciate how good my boobs look.”

“I ‘preciate it,” Ava murmured sleepily.

Reagan took the plain t-shirt bra from me. “So do I. So should you. Wear the good bra, Halley.”

“It’s just a bra.” Was I really listening to a half-asleep, hungover person and another hungover person, albeit a lot more awake than the other?

Yes, I was.

Why?

Because I was hungover, too, and it was becoming quite clear that I was the queen of bad decisions.

“Fine.” I snatched the bra from Reagan, and she flounced off the shower with a grin of satisfaction of her face.

I wasn’t satisfied. Not at all. What my boobs looked like didn’t matter. I punctuated that thought by grabbing some ripped jean shorts and a basic black tank top.

Ava was asleep again if the gentle sound of snoring was anything to go by, so I changed quickly and took my hairdryer into the living room. She was a sleeper, for sure, and I wasn’t the person who wanted to wake her up.

You know how they say not to wake a sleeping baby?

Yeah. Don’t wake a sleeping Ava is more like it.

By the time I’d dried and curled my hair, Reagan was done in the shower and was pouring us both coffee. I took my mug without a word and went back to the mirror to do my makeup. I held off on the lipstick because I’d apply it when I got to the tent, but I finished the coffee in record time.

When I was done, Reagan emerged from my bedroom. She was sans-makeup, plus messy, wet bun, and wearing a pair of my yoga pants and one of my shirts.

“She’s still asleep,” she said with a nod toward the bedroom. She winced ever so slightly. “Should we leave her a note?”

“Well, some of us have things to do. And I’m hoping that Annie’s bakery cart will be open at the fair so I can carb-binge before I have to kiss the world and his mother.” I tossed my trusty red lipstick in my purse and looked at the coffee table. “Should we leave her a note?”

“Already done.” She produced a piece of paper with tape already affixed to the top and pressed it to the fridge.

Ava, we’ve gone to be productive members of society. Be a doll and clean up, since the whole night was your idea. Hugs and kisses. XOXO

I clapped my hand over my mouth to hide the bark of a laugh that exploded out of me.

Technically, it was her idea. It was what she said she’d be doing if she hadn’t been at my place, so…

Reagan and I left my house, leaving the door locked behind us. She waved as she got into her car and pulled out, and I returned the gesture until she disappeared from view.

I didn’t live too far from the park where the fair was, so I opted to walk instead. The fresh air would surely do me some good, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I was confident driving.

There was a lot of margaritas last night.

Despite the warmth that was already beating down on me thanks to the morning sun, I turned in the direction of the fair and started walking. It was around ten-thirty, and I waved at a few neighbors as they drove past me. I exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Hebert, who was watering her rose bushes in her front yard right before I turned off from the street and walked onto the main road that would take me to the booth.

I ducked my head down so that nobody else would talk to me. I wasn’t feeling up to talking to people today.

My head still hurt.

I really had to become a responsible adult at some point before my next birthday.

I blew out a long breath. My mind tracked back to yesterday, to the bet I’d made with Preston. It’d been a terrible idea since the moment he’d proposed it, but I couldn’t resist a bet. I blamed Ava and Reagan for it since we’d been betting with each other for years—we’d bet suckers in elementary school, scented gel pens in middle school, makeup in high school, and money ever since.

Not once had we ever bet a kiss.

Our feelings for the opponent notwithstanding.

I’d gotten away with it, though. Only just. Surely. There was no denying it; I’d outsmarted the bet, and I was damn glad I’d won.

What would I have done if he’d won?

What if he’d actually kissed me?

It was a scenario I’d all but put out of my mind since I’d run out of the booth last night. My quick, late-night visit to the bank had occupied my attention until my best friends had shown up on my doorstep with margarita fixings and distracted me.

I’d happily forgotten that I now had to spend the day with Preston.

What did he think about how I’d skirted around the kiss?

Did he think I did it because I didn’t want to kiss him?

Did he think I did it because I wasn’t exactly a dater?

Did he think I did it because I was trying to not make it awkward?

God, I hoped it was the last one. That was the most accurate one. Kissing Preston would be nothing short of absolutely, totally, completely, utterly, wholly awkward.

Worse than showing up to a school presentation in yesterday’s underwear.

We’d all had those dreams.

I meandered down the street. I was in no hurry to get the booth since there was more than enough time before it opened. In fact, I was probably trying to ignore it.

If I went to the booth, I’d see Preston.

Reagan’s comment last night about him having a crush on me had stuck. I felt like a teenage girl wondering if the cute boy in math class liked me.

She had a point, and I hated to admit it. I didn’t like Preston because it was easier to avoid him than to admit that I had feelings for him.

He wasn’t all that bad. He was handsome, thoughtful, and he was smart enough not to be swayed by the people in this town who looked at him and saw dollar signs.

Believe it or not, that was really quite attractive.

More than that, he made me laugh.

I hid that a lot. I didn’t want anyone to know how I felt about him—and I especially didn’t want him to know.

Maybe I was just making up excuses to pass the time at this point.

I didn’t have to justify why I felt the way I did about someone.

No matter how much I wished I didn’t want Preston. The fact remained that I did. I was attracted to him. I liked him.

And a part of me wished I’d kissed him properly yesterday.

It was a stupid, dreamy, wishful part of me, but a part of me all the same.

I flashed my pass at the guard on the gate and entered the fairground. I beelined right for Annie’s stall and almost squealed when I found that she was open.

With a hot ham and cheese croissant and a fresh coffee in my hands, I took a detour on my way to the kissing booth and instead, headed toward the pond off to the side of the park.

It was quieter here since it wasn’t officially part of the fairground area. I ducked away from the booths and headed well away from the already buzzing hub of the fairground.

I walked past the picnic benches to the grassy area and dropped onto it. The blades tickled my bare thighs, and it took me a moment to find a flat enough area to rest my coffee on.

“You know, if you just used the benches, you wouldn’t have to search for a spot for your coffee.”

I jerked around at the sound of Preston’s voice. He was standing a few feet away, wearing a light blue polo shirt and white shorts. He was almost preppy, but the stubble that dotted across his jaw was a little too rough for that look.

He needed to be clean-shaven to pull that off. Maybe add some loafers. A little scarf around the neck.

Wow. I watched too much TV.

“If I wanted to sit on the benches, I would be, don’t you think?”

“Who knows with you?” Preston dipped under the plastic barriers that I was sure were repurposed police crime scene tape. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you doing out here?” I shot back.

“I followed you.” He chuckled to himself and sat a few feet away from me. “Now you answer.”

I held up the croissant before tearing a bite out of it. It was the perfect hangover cure.

“Ah. That’s right. You drank too much last night.”

“I wouldn’t say too much.”

“Reagan was drunk-texting me how hard you were all crying over that movie.” He pulled his phone out. “There was even a selfie.”

There was a—

Oh, shit, there was.

And it was on Preston’s phone. Right there. In front of me.

Yup.

I grimaced at the photo of me in the background with mascara trails running down my cheeks. “Not the worst photo that exists of me.”

“There are photos worse than that?” He glanced at his phone screen. “Did they kill a raccoon or something?”

“Funny.” I took another bite of my croissant and ignored his laughing. If I had to tell people that I fed the raccoons so they’d leave my trash alone one more time…

“I’m kidding. I think it’s cute that you care about them.”

“It’s cute?”

“Sweet? Adorable? Nice? There really aren’t many other words to use to describe it.”

“Nice is so bland. Sweet is for you, and adorable is simply a synonym for cute.”

“It’s kind of hot when you go all librarian.”

I jerked my head around and, with an eyebrow raised, gave him a questioning look. “It’s kind of hot? Wow. You need to get out more.”

“Librarians are hot.”

“Have you met Mrs. Hovington?” I asked, referring to the Head Librarian and my boss. She was four-foot-nine, wore glasses that were around six inches thick, favored scratchy wool sweaters, and her orthopedic shoes were the things of nightmares.

He nodded. “I have. Is she still as scary as she was when we were kids?”

“That look over the glasses is quite intimidating. Especially when you have late fees. Or I don’t put all the returns away quickly enough.” I scrunched up the wrapper from my croissant and reached for my coffee. “I think she’s retiring next year. Maybe more kids will come to the library then.”

“Nobody comes anymore?”

“Not when the storytime is deemed ‘too loud.’”

“Wow. What an old spoilsport.”

“Like you ever went to storytime on Sundays when you were a kid. Reagan did, but I never once saw you there.”

Preston followed me as I got up. “I never said I did go, but as a big brother, I appreciated getting rid of my annoying little sister for an hour a week.”

“The bond you two share is precious.”

“I prefer to use the word ‘tentative.’”

I rolled my eyes and dipped under the plastic tape. “Well, whatever it is, it sure is something.”

We fell into step alongside each other. Neither of us said a word, although I did steal a glance at him once or twice as we passed the Ferris Wheel. Reagan’s words from last night kept coming back to me, rattling around in my mind.

She said he had a crush on me.

I knew it was insane. There was no way he did, but that didn’t mean I could stop thinking about it. She’d planted the seed in my mind, and even though I knew she’d done it deliberately, it didn’t change a thing.

Damn her.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she said that.

We made it back to the tent without bumping into anyone. It was weird to see the tent completely empty without lines already forming out the front, but at the same time, it was nice.

I didn’t get that rolling stomach feeling when I walked in.

I set my coffee down on the edge of my side of the stage and pulled myself up to sit next to it. Preston walked the length of it, straightening out the rope barriers, stopping every now and then to check they were straight while he ran his fingers through his hair.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. If he didn’t have a crush on me, why would he suggest the bet he did yesterday? Was there a way to find out if there was any truth to Reagan’s statement?

A best of three, maybe? And hope that I actually won one so he had to kiss me?

He’d looked shocked last night when I’d kissed his cheek. Maybe he had been expecting me to kiss him properly. Sure, I’d chickened out and gone for the loophole, but would he do the same if he had to kiss me?

“Hey, Preston?”

“Yeah?” He looked over at me from the door of the tent.

“You wanna do a best of three?”

“For what?”

“That bet, yesterday.”

He grinned. “Why? ‘Cause you lost?”

“I don’t have to give a reason.” I sniffed. “But yes, a best of three of yesterday’s bet. Whoever loses overall has to add five to the winner’s tally.”

“You know all I have to do is kiss one more person than you today and I’m going to leave you in the dust in this entire contest?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “You’re right, but it doesn’t mean that you’ll beat me. I’m ahead of you overall right now. You probably need the helping hand.”

He stared at me for a moment. “Fine. I’ll take the risk if it means I can win the entire thing.” He crossed the tent over to me. “Same stakes as yesterday?”

I nodded without saying a word.

His eyes met mine, and he held my gaze for the longest moment, so long that my heart beat a little faster. “You’re on.”

He held out his hand, and I put mine in his.

We shook.

And I hoped like hell that I’d win because I wasn’t sure I could get away with kissing his cheek again.

I also kinda, maybe, a little bit, wanted him to kiss me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN – HALLEY

Pucker Up

“You’ve lost your mind,” Reagan whispered to me as we were handed our fries. “Do you know that?”

“I know I have, but it’s all your fault. You were the one who said he had a crush on me.”

“I think he does. I don’t know. I’ve never waltzed into his apartment and actually asked him.”

Ava sighed. “It is your fault. If you hadn’t said it, she’d be getting on with her day. She can’t kiss his cheek again, Reagan.”

“I’m going to win,” I said resolutely. “But you two have to come in and kiss my cheek. I need your help to make sure he loses.”

Reagan rubbed her hand down her face. “Halley, have you thought this through?”

“No.”

She blinked as if she was expecting me to argue. “Okay, fine, listen to me. If Preston loses, he’ll probably kiss you properly.”

“That’s what she’s counting on, dufus,” Ava chimed in.

Reagan elbowed her, making her miss her mouth with her ketchup-laden fry and hit her cheek instead. Ava scowled at her.

“He’ll do the very thing you tried to avoid just twenty-four hours ago. Are you really sure it’s a good idea?” Reagan carried on. “I know how you feel about him. Do you really want to live the rest of your life knowing what it’s like to kiss someone you don’t think you can ever be with?”

“The way I see it, it’ll go two ways.” I held up two fries. “One, he knows that cheek kissing is a legit way to hold up the bet, so he’ll kiss my cheek. If he does that, he doesn’t find me attractive.”

“He’s an idiot because I’d do you if I were a guy,” Ava added.

“I’d do me, too,” I replied, making Reagan roll her eyes. “Two, he actually kisses me properly. Then I’ll know that maybe you weren’t far off the mark, and I can decide what to do about it. No, don’t roll your eyes again.”

“I can’t help it. This is so high school. I’ve never understood why you don’t just tell him you have a crush on him.” Reagan shook her head as we walked.

“Same reason Ava’s never told Ethan.”

“Actually, I’ve never mentioned that because I’m pretty sure my brother would go apeshit if I banged his best friend.” Ava tucked her black hair behind her ear. “Also, I’ve been with Butler for ages. As for you… Reagan doesn’t care if you bang her brother.”

Reagan tilted her head to the side. “She’s right. I really don’t care. In fact, I’d be happy that the years of mooning over him would finally be over.”

“I do not moon over anyone,” I replied shortly. “You are the one with the obsession over my feelings, not me.” I paused to throw my trash in the almost-overflowing trash can and licked my fingers. “I’m going to do this, and you’re going to help me win. Line up three times if you have to. I’ll even give you the money to do it. I have to win.”

My best friends shared a look.

“Fine,” Reagan said, resigned. “Although I think this is a terrible idea.”

“All the best ideas start out as terrible ones.” I grinned and waltzed off toward the kissing booth tent.

I was going to kick his ass.

***

“I’m pretty sure that’s cheating,” Preston said through the curtain after Reagan and Ava had dropped their third kisses on my cheeks.

“What’s cheating?” I said innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what you’re doing, Halley. You recruited Tweedledee and Tweedledum to kiss you repeatedly so you’d win.”

“It doesn’t matter how the money gets raised, Preston.”

“I’m not talking about the money. I’m talking about your blatant effort to beat me in the bet today.”

I glanced at my board that had a healthy number on already. “That is the point of a bet, isn’t it? To win?”

“I should have asked Lindsay to help me out.”

I bristled. I really hated her. “Why? Is she your type?”

“So what if she is?”

“I was only asking. There’s no need to get defensive.”

“You’re the one who got defensive. There are people in Maine who heard that bitterness.”

“Whatever. Don’t get your panties in a twist just because I’m winning,” I shot back, straightening myself on the stool as more people were let into the tent.

“We’ll see,” Preston replied.

We would see. I was going to win this today—and nothing would change that. Plus, thanks to Reagan and Ava, I already knew I was winning by ten clear points.

It didn’t sound like a lot, but that was ten kisses.

And ten kisses was a lot.

I turned my attention away from him and to the young guy who was approaching the stage. There were only forty-five minutes left of the booth today. There was no doubt this would be the worst forty-five minutes of the week.

Regret was starting to seep in over the bet I’d brought back to life.

What if Preston did kiss me properly? What did it mean? Did it mean he did like me like that? I still couldn’t see it in my mind—we were different people—but what if he did?

Jesus, I was like a schoolgirl over here.

What had I done to myself?

Why had I agreed to his bet in the first place?

Reagan was right. This was a terrible idea.

Terrible, terrible, terrible.

My stomach was already fluttering like a group of butterflies had been let loose in there. I had to lose, didn’t I? Then he’d win the bet, and I could kiss his other cheek so he had one on either side.

Matching kisses.

Person after person moved their way across my stage, dropping one-dollar bills into the bucket and stopping to kiss me. I kissed lips and cheeks and hands. I had my cheeks kissed, and my dad even stopped by and kissed my forehead with a wink.

It was the only bright spot of the day.

Mostly because he was still there by the time the booth closed, and him being here meant that the inevitable was delayed for a little longer.

“Hey, Dad!” I jumped off the stage, my sneakers squeaking against the wood, and he wrapped me in a hug.

“Hey, Halley. I’m doing a walk around of the fair and thought I’d stop in and see my favorite girl.” He squeezed me against his side. “Has your mother stopped by yet?”

“No. She hates the smell of the tent.”

Dad paused and sniffed. “I suppose it does smell a bit like dust and stale hot dogs, doesn’t it? Is that a half-eaten churro in your bucket, Preston?”

Preston slid the bucket over to him, and the way his nose wrinkled answered the question right away. “People are gross.”

I nodded my agreement. “Well, looks like you’re doing the bank run today because I’m not touching that money.”

“It’s just churro.”

“That wasn’t mine.” I gave him a pointed look. “Keep an eye on your bucket.”

He saluted me. “Yes, ma’am. Are you sure you don’t want to run for office one day?”

I pursed my lips.

Dad chuckled, releasing me. “She’s far too impatient for that. Plus she won’t be able to read, and we all know that’s a deal-breaker.”

“You say it like I permanently have a book attached to my person,” I grumbled, knowing it wasn’t far from the truth.

“Do you have a book in your purse right now?”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped. I did. A worn-out copy of Little Women was nestled in the zip pouch of my purse to keep it safe. “That’s really not important.”

Both of them laughed at me.

“How’s it going?” Dad asked, going to Preston’s side. “Are you knocking my daughter off her pedestal yet?”

Preston snorted. “It’s not for lack of trying, sir. But it’s a little tough when she recruits her friends to come and kiss her cheeks over and over.”

“Halley!”

“It’s his fault!” I pointed at Preston. “He started a stupid bet, and now it’s best of three, and I lost yesterday! I can’t help it if I’m a naturally competitive person. You’re the mayor. I get it from you.”

Dad raised his gaze to the ceiling and moved his lips.

He was counting to ten.

He did that when either me or my stepmom, Abigail, had just outsmarted him.

“What’s the price for the loser?”

“Fifty dollars in the other’s bucket and five kisses on the tally,” Preston answered quickly. “High stakes.”

“Who’s won then?”

“We don’t know yet,” I said hesitantly. “We haven’t looked since you’re here?”

Dad straightened the collar of his short-sleeved, white shirt and went to my side. “Well, I’ll be the independent judge and tally them up, shall I?”

“Be our guest.”

Preston jumped off the stage and came over to me. “I’m not giving you fifty bucks,” he muttered.

“You have to at least pretend.” I shrugged one shoulder. “He’s going to expect it to be done in front of him.”

He groaned. “You’re wiping the kisses off the tally, though. No cheating.”

“Only because I’m kicking your ass. You’d keep them if they were yours.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Don’t be salty.”

“That’s not what we bet.”

“I know, but it’s fun watching you lose.”

Dad slipped through the curtain to tally Preston’s kisses for the day.

“You know,” Preston said, leaning into me and turning his head so his breath tickled my cheek. “If I lose, I’m not pulling that bullshit you did yesterday.”

“Cheek kisses count. You know that.”

“I do know that, but that wasn’t what I had in mind when I challenged you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Are you telling me that you want to kiss me?”

Without meaning or wanting to, I moved my own head and met his eyes. There was barely any space between us, and all it would take would be one wobble of balance and boom—I’d be kissing him.

I adjusted my glasses and looked away before it went too far. My dad was right here, after all, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to my question.

“Done!” Dad joined us in the middle of the tent. “Preston, you kissed seventy-two people today, and Halley, you kissed eighty people exactly. You win.”

Oh, hell.

I lifted my shoulders to my ears and smiled sweetly at Preston. He swore under his breath and dug in his pocket for his wallet. I took the fifty he handed me with glee and moved to deposit it in my bucket.

“Shall I add the extra five to my board, or would you like to do it?” I asked in an innocent tone.

“I’ll do it in a minute.” He smirked. “One all, then.”

“One all.”

Dad glanced at his watch. “I have to go—good job here, kids, you’re doing great. Halley, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, sir,” Preston said as I tossed up a wave.

My mouth dried out when the curtain fell closed. Preston’s bright blue eyes were focused completely on me, and his lips were curved into a smirk that was far too sexy to be fair.

Something passed between us, something intangible that made my heart skip a beat.

“So. That tally.” I jumped up and scrambled to my feet, looking for the marker to add the one kiss I was owed to my board.

The wooden boards creaked as Preston joined me. My heart thumped against my ribs, and I froze when he stopped right behind me and took the marker from my hand. He didn’t move as he wrapped his arms around my upper body to uncap it.

Very slowly, very carefully, and oh-so-deliberately, he drew one line next to the running tally on the board.

I swallowed hard when he clicked the lid back on the pen. He dropped it, leaving it clattering to the floor, and moved. His chest brushed against my arm as he moved so he was standing in front of me instead.

I was staring at his chest. I couldn’t look him in the eye, because I knew what was coming.

The sooner I looked at him, the sooner it’d happen.

“I never answered your question.”

“What question?” I darted my eyes to the side.

“Just now. You asked me if I wanted to kiss you.”

I did, didn’t I? Right. “Oh,” was all I said.

Slowly, he moved his hand to my chin and gently lifted it. Still, I didn’t look at him, keeping my eyes firmly trained on the front of the tent, even though I was facing him.

“Halley.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to kiss you.”

My eyes darted to his.

“I thought that’d do it.” His lips twitched, and he lowered his head until I had to fight the urge to close my eyes in anticipation of the kiss that was coming.

I swallowed, my lips parting.

Preston moved closer.

And he kissed my cheek.

I jerked out of whatever trance I’d just been in. “What the hell?”

He jumped off the stage, grinning. “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to break the stalemate, won’t we?”

“Oh, hell no!” I jumped off, stalking him to his side of the stage. “You just stood there in front of me and told me you want to kiss me, then kiss my cheek? The hell was that?”

His eyebrows shot up, amusement flashing in his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to kiss me, too.”

“Irrelevant,” I shot back. “But you’re a special kind of asshole to tell a girl you wanna kiss her and then not do it.” I turned around, then stopped. “You know what? When I beat you tomorrow, you can kiss my ass.”

“You’re way too mad about this.”

“I’m not mad!” My voice raised a few octaves. “I couldn’t care if you want to kiss me or not. I most certainly don’t want to kiss you.”

“Why are you shouting at me?”

“I’m not—” I was shouting at him. “Whatever,” I said in a normal voice. “Make sure you take that money to the bank. Tell Tish I sent you.”

I left him on his side of the curtain and went to get my purse. He could get fucked. After all that where I think I was so damn nervous I broke a sweat, he didn’t even kiss me.

I wasn’t lying with what I said.

He could kiss my ass.

I’d even wear my good panties and bend over for him.

I snatched my purse up and turned my back to him, heading for the tent door. He was going to the bank thanks to the errant churro someone had dumped in his bucket, so I was done here for tonight.

“Halley—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Preston.” I shook my head and carried on walking through the tent.

Why was I so mad?

Earlier, I hadn’t even wanted it to happen. But it’d been so close. His lips had been only a breath away from mine, and it’d—

You know what? It didn’t matter what it was. It hadn’t happened. If he wanted to kiss me, he would have. If he meant it, he wouldn’t have come so close to doing it, only to divert to my cheek.

At least when I’d kissed his cheek, I’d gone straight in for the kill.

There was a creak from behind me, and right as my fingers brushed the velvet curtains at the front of the tent, a strong hand gripped my wrist and yanked.

I spun on the balls of my feet, my sneakers digging into the grass and kicking up dirt. I lost my balance and quickly tried to regain it with one foot behind me, but I barely had a chance to do that before I lost it again.

This time, I fell into a hard body.

I opened my mouth to cry out, but Preston’s hand cupped the back of my neck. Before I could say a word, his lips were on mine.

Shock rocketed through my body, swiftly followed by what felt all too much like an electric current that made all the hairs on my arms stand on end.

His lips were full and soft, and his kiss was firm and probing. He was unapologetic in his exploration of my mouth as our bodies moved closer to each other.

My heart was beating double-time, thundering against my ribs, sending shocks of pleasure through my entire body. It wound itself into tight knots of tension that settled in my shoulders and my stomach.

Except my stomach was flipping, and I had no control over my body as my hands sought to find Preston. Within seconds of me realizing it, my fingers were wound in the sides of his shirt, and my body was flat against his.

And his kiss—oh, my God, it was the kind of kiss people wrote poems about. A kiss that touched every part of me, one that would linger in both my memory and on my lips for a long, long, time.

CHAPTER TWELVE – PRESTON

My fingers crept beneath the fabric of Halley’s shirt and splayed across her lower back.

She tasted like coffee and cotton candy. It was the weirdest mix, but on her, it made sense. It was how I’d always expected her to taste—strong yet sweet, exhilarating and heady.

I was lost in her. Completely. Fucking utterly, utterly lost. Never had a kiss consumed me half the way this one did.

Maybe it was because I’d waited so long to do it. Maybe it was because she was right in front of me for days and the temptation had been so great.

Maybe it was because it was Halley.

The one woman I’d always wanted with reckless abandon.

I kissed her how I wanted her. Recklessly, without a second of thought for what would happen when we broke this moment. Carelessly, without giving a shit about what we’d say to each other when this was done.

Without thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was.

There was no coming back from this. There was no way I’d ever be able to look Halley Dawson in the eye after knowing what it felt like to have her lips on mine, her sighs dancing across my mouth, her fingers wound in my shirt.

No. Fucking. Way. Back.

Why had I kissed her? It was simple. The look in her eye when she realized I wasn’t actually going to kiss her was a killer. No matter how she tried to hide it, I saw the disappointment that flashed there.

She’d wanted me to kiss her.

I hadn’t. I’d played her at her own game and kissed her cheek.

And for what? Where had it gotten me? Instead of pressing one little kiss to her plump red lips, she was now wrapped in my arms while we kissed and I nipped at her lower lips and teased her with my tongue.

With my cock hardening against the zipper of my shorts.

She could feel it. There was no way she couldn’t. Her hips were pressed against me. There wasn’t an inch of space between our bodies, and I knew I should let her go, but I couldn’t.

I just fucking couldn’t.

It was the first time I’d ever kissed her, and I didn’t want to stop.

It was uncontrollable.

The way I felt about her was dangerous.

Dangerous, because it consumed every bit of me. Dangerous, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get this kiss out of my mind.

Because I knew I’d compare every kiss to this for the rest of my life.

But fuck if right now, at this moment, with her lips against mine, if I didn’t want to kiss anyone else.

Ever.

I knew it was the adrenaline speaking. It was the heat of the moment, the obsession of right now, the consuming sensation of her gripping onto my shirt. It was all of those things combining into one red hot ball of desire that wouldn’t fade by itself.

Shit.

Fuck.

I was fucked.

I slid my hand up Halley’s body until I cupped her face, my palms along the curve of her jaw, my fingers tickling her neck, my thumbs against her soft cheeks. Slowly, I pulled away, kissing her once, twice, three times. Tiny little pecks dotted against her lips that took all my restraint to pull away from.

I wanted to dot them everywhere. Her lips. Her cheeks. Her forehead. Her button nose.

Her jaw.

Her neck.

Her breasts.

Her stomach.

Along the inside of her thighs until they opened, leaving only one little place for me to kiss.

“What was that?” Halley whispered, her lips brushing mine.

It was a testament to how close we still were.

“I told you I wanted to kiss you,” I said in a rough voice. “I kissed your cheek because I knew that would happen.”

She didn’t speak. The silence hung heavy in the air between us, like a thick blanket of fog that covered the landscape.

We’d never be able to come back from that kiss.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. There was literally no way back. For so long, I’d been able to box her into several little cubbyholes.

Crazy raccoon lady.

The mayor’s daughter.

The sassy librarian.

My little sister’s best friend.

All of those things had, at one point, given me a reason to not kiss her. The last was the most potent—my sister’s best friend.

Lifelong best friend.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t give a shit. It mattered to me. If it all went wrong, she’d be the one who suffered for a breakup.

It was easier to ignore everything to make Reagan’s life easier.

Now?

Now, there was no fucking chance of it.

The only way this would ever be fixed would be if Halley and I looked each other in the eye and said it would never happen.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

That was what I wanted to say.

It was just a kiss.

A hot, horny, long, deep, passionate kiss.

But a kiss all the same.

Kisses didn’t always have to mean something.

Sometimes they were just that—a kiss. This wasn’t one of them, but I’d lied well enough for years now. I could lie one more time, couldn’t I?

No.

I couldn’t lie to Halley.

About her? Sure? I could lie about her to every Tom, Dick, Harry, and fucking Beyoncé who came along and asked.

I couldn’t lie to her, though, and wasn’t that the very reason I’d chased her and kissed her?

I couldn’t take seeing the hurt in her eyes when she thought I was lying and didn’t want to kiss her.

There was something here. Between her and I. I’d never considered that it could be real, not before. Not until today. Until right now. Until seconds before I’d jumped off the stage and hauled her body against mine.

Jesus fucking Christ, the way she’d reacted before I kissed her cheek.

The intake of breath—the refusal to meet my eyes, the shakiness of her voice, the way she trembled when my exhale touched her skin.

Shit, she was fucking magic.

“I don’t know what to say now,” Halley whispered, her voice scratchy and broken.

“Don’t say anything,” I said back, my voice just as low. “I said I wanted to kiss you, and I have. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

She nodded, moving back from me. Her lipstick was smudged, and her eyes were bright, shining with the aftermath of emotion of our kiss.

I reached up and wiped my thumb at the corner of her mouth. I didn’t want her to leave this tent looking like she’d just had a huge make-out session, even if she had.

I knew her well enough to know she’d go home and feed the raccoons and ignore everyone else.

She stepped back, smiled, and wiped the other side of her mouth. It wasn’t perfect, but she dipped her head as she turned and pulled her compact mirror out of her purse.

She’d be fine now.

I blew out a long breath when the curtain swished shut. I still had to compile all today’s money and take it to the bank—and get rid of some kid’s churro in my bucket.

How did she do this every year?

I shook my head and got to it. It didn’t take me long to compile all the money on the stage. When I was done, and I’d removed all traces of churro, I put it in the pink safety deposit box Halley favored and tucked it into my backpack.

I tossed it over my shoulders onto my back and made sure to tie the tent up behind me. That always amused me—there was nothing of value left inside, and anyone could break in and steal our stools and tally charts.

I bit back a laugh and quickly darted behind some stands when I caught a glimpse of Lindsay and her friends. She was perfectly put together as she always was and holding court as if we were all back in high school.

I’d never been one for the prom queen or even the head of the decorating committee.

Apparently, I liked the bookish girl with an affinity for snarky comebacks.

I dipped behind my parents’ stall. Mom and Dad were hard at work. Dad was seeing to the customers, and Mom was bundling cooking herbs in the back—she loved to sell packets of basil and thyme and other general spices. She beamed when she saw me, but I held up one finger for her to keep quiet.

She winked, blowing some of her bangs out of her eyes with one puff of breath.

I waited until I knew that Lindsay and her friends had passed and left with a wave in my mom’s direction. It took me a few minutes to get to my car, then a few further to make it to the bank. I got there with literally seconds to spare, but Tish only grinned at me.

“Halley called and said you’d probably be late. I was going to give you until a quarter to.” She took the deposit box from me under the window. “Did your fan club waylay you?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” I replied dryly. “No, I avoided them.”

Tish’s powder-creased eyes wrinkled when she laughed. “Smart kid. Is this all today?”

“Yes, ma’am. She beat me today.”

She grinned, her clumpy mascara making her eyes look almost totally black. “Doesn’t she always?”

“Hey, I won yesterday.”

“Who’s winning overall?”

“Halley,” I admitted begrudgingly.

She laughed again, handing me both the box and the receipt for the deposit. “Make sure you give her that receipt and don’t lose it, all right?”

“You’ve got it, Miss Tish. Wanna join me for dinner?”

“If I were twenty years younger, I’d still say no.”

“You wound me.” I clutched my chest.

She waved a hand at me from behind the glass. “Away with ya. I’m not here for your flirtin’!”

I laughed, bidding her goodbye, and left the bank. I climbed into my car and drove back to my apartment block. The traffic was light since everyone was at the fair, and unlike the kissing booth, everything else went until eleven.

Fair rides were fun in the dark.

Kissing booths weren’t.

Well, they could be…

I shook off all the thoughts of Halley before it went too far. The two of us in a kissing booth in the dark was a recipe for disaster.

And temptation.

Definitely temptation.

I put my car in park and grabbed my backpack from the passenger seat. It was easier to keep my wallet and phone and shit in a backpack when I was at the booth, so I slung one strap over my right shoulder and headed up to my apartment.

It was so fucking quiet when I got there. I turned the TV on just to break up the silence and dumped the bag on my large kitchen island. After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I pulled my phone out of the backpack and checked it.

It took me minutes to catch up on the sports headlines, which was all I really cared about. I was halfway through my beer when I opened my messages app and tapped ‘new message.’

I selected Halley from the contacts list and texted her.

ME: I dropped the cash at the bank.

Her response came faster than I thought it would. Then again, she was probably reading on her phone…

HALLEY: Thanks. Was Tish ok with it?

ME: Yeah, she said you told her I’d be late.

HALLEY: Were you late?

ME: If you need to ask that…

HALLEY: Lol. Of course you were.

HALLEY: About earlier…

ME: What about it?

HALLEY: What do we do tomorrow?

ME: Halley, I kissed you because I wanted to. Did I try not to at first? Yeah, but then I changed my mind. We can pretend that it never happened if that’s what you want.

HALLEY: I didn’t say that. I just don’t understand. You’ve never shown any interest in kissing me until today.

ME: And you’ve never shown any interest in kissing me until today.

HALLEY: Um

HALLEY: My life would be so much easier if I was like the comet I was named for. Coming once every seven years.

I choked on my beer.

ME: I know a few guys who can arrange that, but I’m more of a coming every seven hours guy.

HALLEY: I DIDN’T MEAN THAT KIND OF COMING

ME: You should be more specific.

HALLEY: This has deteriorated quickly. And I wonder why I prefer raccoons to humans.

ME: I’d imagine raccoons don’t talk shit.

HALLEY: Yeah, but humans don’t rummage through my trash, so…

ME: Some might.

HALLEY: You have to ruin everything, don’t you?

ME: I get it from my sister.

ME: Do you hate me for kissing you tonight?

It felt like a fucking eternity until she responded. I went over every possible answer in my mind, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the one she gave me.

HALLEY: A little bit.

ME: I understand that.

HALLEY: You don’t.

ME: I hate myself a little bit, so I do, yeah.

HALLEY: You don’t, Preston.

ME: Why don’t I?

HALLEY: Because I’m not your type, am I? The short-haired, kissing-booth running librarian with a penchant for feeding wild raccoons isn’t the kind of girl you go for.

Shit—she had no idea, she did? Was that how she saw herself? That all those things were bad things? Hadn’t I already told her that they were good things? That they were the things that made her perfect in my eyes?

So she burned spaghetti.

We’d all done that.

Or something similar. Like toast.

ME: Your first mistake is assuming I have a type. I’m not a book. I don’t prefer a certain font.

HALLEY: That fell flat.

ME: I know. It was supposed to.

HALLEY: You’re weird.

ME: Has anyone ever told you that you seriously undervalue yourself? You’re more amazing than you give yourself credit for.

HALLEY: You’re saying that because you have to.

ME: No. I don’t have to say shit. I’ve already made it clear that I think you’re basically perfect, even if you do burn spaghetti. Stop putting yourself down, Halley.

ME: I didn’t kiss you tonight just because I did. I kissed you because I wanted to.

ME: Didn’t you listen to a word I said to you?

Her silence told me everything I needed to know.

ME: Let’s go out tomorrow. When the booth is done. Let’s hang out at the fair. We’ll throw baseballs at the milk bottles and ride the Ferris wheel and eat our weight in cotton candy.

HALLEY: …Are you asking me on a date?

ME: Do you want it to be a date?

HALLEY: No.

ME: That sucks because I want it to be.

HALLEY: You do?

ME: Yeah. Is it that surprising? I’m pretty sure I still have a boner from kissing you earlier.

HALLEY: You don’t date.

ME: Correction. I don’t date people who aren’t worth dating.

HALLEY: You think I’m worth dating?

ME: When we’re done kissing other people, I’m going to show you just how worthy you are of being dated the fuck out of.

HALLEY: I think that was sweet.

ME: It was.

ME: I wish you’d see yourself through everyone else’s eyes.

HALLEY: I don’t. I might get an ego so big I’ll need a reality show.

I choked on my laughter. It was true. That would probably happen.

ME: Well? We can go as friends if you’d prefer. A not-a-date.

HALLEY: You’re ridiculous.

ME: Tell me it’s a bad idea.

HALLEY: It’s a bad idea. You know as well as I do it won’t work.

ME: I know nothing of the sort.

HALLEY: What about Reagan? When it all goes tits up, whose side does she take?

ME: Yours. Then I’ll get a damn break from her.

HALLEY: Why do I get the impression I’m losing this battle?

ME: Because you are.

ME: We’ve never spent any time together, Halley. A couple of hours at the fair isn’t going to change anything unless you want it to.

HALLEY: There’s no way I’m getting out of this, is there?

ME: I see it two ways. You can come nicely, or I’ll just carry you around over my shoulder.

ME: People will probably stare at that one though.

HALLEY: Ugh. Fine. You win. But it’s not a date.

ME: Is it a date if I kiss you at the end of it?

HALLEY: I might throw you off the top of the Ferris wheel yet. Don’t get cocky.

ME: Who’s telling Reagan?

HALLEY: I will. I’ll tell her you kissed me and wore me down until I had no say in the matter.

ME: You won’t be lying.

HALLEY: Exactly. Now if you don’t mind, I want to get back to my book.

ME: Are you reading porn?

HALLEY: I’m reading romance. If you call my books porn again, I will beat you with them.

ME: Kinky.

HALLEY: Let me shove a hardback up your ass, and you tell me how kinky that is.

ME: Enjoy your romance.

HALLEY: I will if you stop texting me.

ME: Stop texting me.

HALLEY: This isn’t going to turn into some weird ‘you hang up’ ‘no you hang up’ thing. Goodnight, Preston.

ME: Oh, but it’d be so fun.

A few minutes passed, and there was no response from here. She really wasn’t kidding. I sent her one last text, hoping that I hadn’t made a huge mistake in asking her out.

ME: Night, crazy raccoon lady.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – HALLEY

When Is a Date Not a Date?

I’d lost my damn mind.

That was the only explanation I had for the situation I found myself in. Spending all day in the booth, listening to Preston kissing other people, then going out with him tonight?

Why had I said yes?

Why had I agreed?

Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in my stomach. I felt like a teenager waiting for the boy she liked to answer her IM. Maybe add her name to his screen name or something.

It would have been so much easier to be a teenager having texting as the main means of communication. Teens today didn’t have to sit and see if their crush was online. Now, they sent a message and got on with their lives.

I blew out a long breath as I headed for The Wright Bouquet, the Wright family flagship store. I knew Reagan would be working and I really needed to talk this over with her.

I know. Speaking to my crush’s sister about the situation might be weird, but Ava wasn’t answering her phone, and I had to talk to someone.

Also, my mom was MIA, as usual, Abigail was already at the spa for some beauty treatments, and the raccoons really didn’t want to hear about my love life.

I needed a better social life, didn’t I?

Actually, ugh, no, I didn’t. The one I had was a little too much, if I was honest.

The bell over the door chimed when I pushed the door open with my hip. I was carrying two coffees and two cream cheese bagels, so I scooted in, inch by inch, careful not to the drop the coffees.

The sweet scent of hundreds of flowers mingling together hung in the air almost cloyingly. Hints of lavender tickled my nose as I made my way across the tiled floor to the counter where Reagan was clipping roses for the man standing in front of her.

I slipped off to the side and watched her work. It was painstaking work, and she missed every thorn like the expert she was. She set down her scissor-things and got to work wrapping them into a bouquet, tying it together with a big red ribbon.

I took the coffees out of the cup holder and set them on the counter near to the rose stem clippings, then took both the clippings and the cup holder to the trash can behind Reagan.

The guy thanked her and waved goodbye, and Reagan blew a breath up to get her bangs out of her eyes. She had a black and white hairband holding the rest of her long, purple hair back from her face, and the little bow on top of it was sticking up like rabbit ears.

“Long morning?” I questioned, handing her the paper bag that held her bagel.

“Don’t. The sooner this fair is over, the better.” She shook her head and took the food. “Thanks for this. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“What’s up?”

“That guy who was just here? He called at seven—freaking seven!—to ask if I could do him a bouquet because he was proposing to his girlfriend tonight.” She sighed. “He did tip me, which was weird, but eh.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve had an erratic bride concerned that six months before her wedding is too late to change her bouquet because she’s apparently allergic to lilies, a guy who was concerned that the arrangements for his mom’s funeral were too dark and dreary even though they include sunflowers, and a teenage boy asking how much a display that asks ‘prom?’ would be.”

“It’s nine-thirty, Reagan.”

“Exactly.” She picked up the coffee and stared at the plastic lid. “Is there whiskey in this?”

“Um, no. I don’t think Annie’s café offers that.”

“Life goal: we open a coffee shop that only serves spiked coffees. Rum, Baileys, whiskey… You name it.”

“Done.” I laughed and pulled a stool under my butt so I could sit down. “So, this visit isn’t entirely to brighten your day with caffeine and carbs.”

“There’s always a catch to caffeine and carbs.” She sighed and took a seat on the other stool. “Lay it on me, shooting star.”

“I was named for a comet, not a shooting star.”

“Same difference.”

“Shooting stars don’t exist. They’re meteors. Stars don’t move, much less shoot.”

“Aren’t meteors comets?”

“Yes and no. They’re variations of the same thing. Meteors are meteoroids that hit our atmosphere, and that’s the shooting star you see. Hence the name meteor shower.”

“All right, Buzz Aldrin, settle down.”

“Remind me again why I came here to ask for your opinion?”

“Because mornings aren’t your friend.” Preston came out from the backroom, holding several bouquets of flowers in his arms.

It should have looked wrong. A six-foot-something man with wet hair and an untrimmed beard wearing sweatpant-type shorts and a faded Metallica t-shirt holding at least nine bouquets of flowers.

But it didn’t.

I was pretty sure he could roll around in a mud bath and look good.

It was unfair, really.

“Ugh. Are you still here?” Reagan asked, tearing her bagel in two. “I thought you left half an hour ago.”

“I did, but I came back because I forgot the flowers.” Preston rolled his eyes. “Who put Aunt Sue in charge of the booth today? She’s got fifty bouquets. These ten aren’t going to make a difference.”

“Mom did. She wanted a day off.”

“She’s a millionaire. Is Aunt Sue really all she can afford?”

“She’d hire you, but you’re too busy whoring your mouth out for charity this week.” Reagan glanced my way. “No offense.”

I picked up my coffee. “No, it sounded like a compliment.”

Preston snorted. “I’m doing my bit for charity.”

“Right. I thought you’d pull a Magic Mike, but whatever.” Reagan tore off a bite of her bagel. “Are you done here now?” she asked around a mouthful of it.

He held up one bouquet. “Done. I won’t bother you today, you old curmudgeon.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know. It’s one of my better qualities, don’t you think, Halley?”

Calmly, I broke part of my bagel in two. “I’ve never paid attention to them, if I’m honest.”

“I’ll make sure I show them to you tonight, then.” Preston winked and, turning, left the store while I choked on the piece of bagel I’d just shoved in my mouth.

Reagan froze. “What does that mean?”

“We’re going out!” Preston shouted as he pulled the door open, making the bell ding really loudly.

I stood, slapping my hands on the counter, almost spilling my coffee. “It’s not a date!”

His laughter was cut off by the door slamming shut behind him.

I looked at Reagan. “It’s not a date.”

“You’re gonna have to back up. I feel like I’m missing a lot.”

I sighed and sat back down again. “You are. I think. I don’t know. I tried telling Boris last night, but he really wasn’t that interested.”

“That’s because he’s a raccoon. He uses you for your sandwiches, Halley.”

“Whatever. Basically, Preston kissed me last night.”

Reagan’s eyes widened. A moment later, she squealed and grabbed me, yanking me off the stool and almost sending me tumbling into the glass unit that was standing against the wall.

“Wow. Okay. Calm down.” The laugh that escaped me was a nervous one. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Her eyebrows show up. “Are you forgetting the part where you’ve had a crush on him for years?”

“No. Funnily enough, I can’t forget about that,” I replied dryly. “I won the bet yesterday, which meant he had to kiss me. My dad showed up which delayed the entire winning process, and I couldn’t really gloat. Anyway,” I said before I went on a tangent. “He went to kiss me, and I really, really thought he was going to, but he didn’t. He kissed my cheek and tried saying that whoever won today would have to kiss properly.”

“So how did you end up kissing him?”

“I asked him what the hell he was doing, making a girl think she was being kissed when it wasn’t going to happen. I might have been a little… angrier… than I’d been aiming for, but he grabbed me as I was leaving and kissed me.”

“Damn. I didn’t know he had that in him.”

“Neither did I.”

“So what’s the date that’s not a date tonight? How did that happen?”

I sighed. “We texted for a bit last night, and he wore me down. But it’s not a date. It’s just two people who kissed, spending time together.”

“That’s a date, Halley.”

“It’s not a date!”

Reagan threw the paper bag her bagel had been in into the trashcan. “No, it’s a date. You can say what you want, but it is.”

I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to call it a date, because that meant this was really happening. I had to accept that Preston was interested in me, and that meant I could get hurt. It meant I had to open myself up to getting hurt.

I didn’t want to get hurt.

Not by him.

“You’ve had a crush on him for years. Why aren’t you dancing around the room? Why aren’t you just calling a spade and spade or, in your case, a date a date?” Reagan raised her eyebrows. “Wait—is it because of me?”

“No. Well, a little bit.”

She walked around me and pulled some flowers out of a container. Water dripped on the floor as she brought them over to the counter. “Your self-confidence sucks, do you know that?”

I adjusted my glasses. “I think you got enough for both of us.”

“Halley, if you date my brother and it all screws up, chances are, he’s the one who fucked up anyway.” She smirked, her eyes flashing with amusement. “And I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend, but you’re way too good for him.”

I stared at her. “You are saying that because I’m your best friend.”

“Maybe a little. But seriously, you have got to have a little more confidence. You know Preston doesn’t date around like most other people do. If he wants to take you on a date…” She trailed off and gave me a small, one-shouldered shrug. “He’s not doing you a favor or anything. He’s going out with you because he wants to.”

She was focused intensely on the flowers in front of her, and I narrowed my eyes. She knew something—more than she was letting on.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Reagan!”

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands, dropping the flower she’d been holding. “I’ve known for a while that he’s been interested in you. I honestly think it’s the only reason he agreed to do the kissing booth.”

I blinked at her.

And blinked some more.

And then again.

“What?” That was the only word I could force out.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She pointed at me. “He never actually told me. He didn’t deny it when I asked; he always told me to drop it. I never said anything in case I was wrong. I figured you two would sort it out if it was meant to be.”

I sagged, letting the small bubble of annoyance I’d felt disappear. “I know. I guess I’m just confused about the whole thing. Me and Preston have never been friends—”

“Because neither of you were willing to admit how you really felt.”

“—So it’s come a little out of left field.”

“And you complaining that he didn’t kiss you hasn’t?” Reagan raised her eyebrows. “Look, don’t think about him being my brother. Don’t think about him being this guy you never thought would be interested in you. I’d date the hell out of you if I were a guy.”

I laughed. “I know. Maybe I’ll have my head around it by the time we’re done at the booth.”

“Well, if anything, you’ll have a good conversation starter.” She flashed me a grin from behind a curtain of violet hair. “How many other people you’ve kissed in one day is always a good start to a hot date.”

I snorted, sending hot coffee up my nose, and shook my head. “Don’t even. I have no idea what we’re going to talk about.”

***

As it turned out, there was an awful lot for us to talk about.

The day was an absolute disaster. One kid kicked over Preston’s bucket which sent his money flying everywhere, another almost spilled lemonade all over me, and one old lady who was visiting from Georgia collapsed outside the tent and was whisked away to hospital in an ambulance.

That was before you even thought about the pigeon that’d made its way inside the booth and terrorized us all for twenty minutes until a group effort managed to usher it back out.

I still had a headache from the screaming. You’d think it came from the kids, but nope—they loved it. The screaming was all from the grown-ass women who were trying their best to win the heart of Preston Wright.

I didn’t want to be that person, but screaming about a pigeon that wasn’t interested in you wasn’t the way to win the heart of anyone.

Unless they had a serious hero complex.

Judging by how hard Preston had laughed, he didn’t have one.

I was okay with that because I didn’t have a damsel complex, either.

I was the one who’d grabbed the freakin’ bird and ultimately tossed it outside.

Yep, that was me—Halley Dawson, wildlife whisperer extraordinaire.

The one bonus that’d come from it was that both of us had forgotten about the third state of our bet. We’d wiped the day’s board clean and added it to our tally before Preston had let loose a string of curse words that would make a hooker blush.

“Just do it tomorrow,” I said, dropping my phone in my purse. “It’s not the end of the world, is it? One of us is going to win by the time this is all over, and I know I’ve had enough today.”

Preston jumped off his stage and looked at me. “Do we need to go to the bank tonight?”

I took the money tin from him and shook my head. “I won’t put my purse down tonight. I’ll run by there in the morning. I already texted Tish.”

“All right. Are you ready for our not a date?”

“No.”

He laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine in a weirdly delicious way. “There’ll be food.”

I paused. “I’m a little more ready in that case.”

Together, we walked to the end of the tent. Preston pulled the heavy curtain aside and made a sweeping motion with his arm that said I should go first.

I couldn’t help the way my lips curled at the sight of it. I ducked out of the tent, pausing halfway to give him a mock curtsey that made him laugh, and stepped out into the heat from outside.

It was still uncomfortably warm even though the sun was no longer beating down incessantly on us. That said, it was practically freakin’ glacial after being in the tent all day with nothing more than a few electric fans that were so useless I was pretty sure they were making me even hotter.

“So. What do you want to eat?” Preston fell into step next to me.

I glanced over. His white t-shirt hugged his lean, muscular frame perfectly, and the navy-blue chino shorts he wore were loose enough that they left just enough to the imagination.

I didn’t know if I was mad about that or not.

“I really don’t mind. I’m sure any of it is better than what I can make at home.”

“Ah, I forgot you can’t cook. What did you eat last night?”

“Noodles,” I muttered. “Just noodles.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t burn them.”

“Bite me, Preston.”

“That can be arranged.”

Oh, my God.

“I didn’t mean literally,” I said. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“I know. But I was saying that, should you want it to be literal, it can be arranged.” He gave me a wolfish smile. “There’s no shame in a little nibble, Halley.” He punctuated that with a wink.

Why was my mouth dry? What was happening?

“I think sexual preferences are a little heavy for this not a date, don’t you think?”

“Depends on what your preferences are. Some light spanking and a neck nibble? Entirely appropriate. Threesomes and swinging? That’s a little too much.”

I laughed, quickly covering my mouth with my hand to hide it. “I can confirm I have zero interest in threesomes or swinging. You can add gangbangs, public fornication, dogging, and anal to that list.”

“No anal?”

“If you’d like to compare notes, let’s hop behind that milk bottle stall, and I’ll shove a cucumber up your ass so you can tell me how you like it.”

He licked his lips. “I prefer my cucumbers in a salad.”

“And I prefer dick anywhere but my ass. At least we agree on something.”

Preston pulled me against his side and squeezed. “One minute, you’re all quiet and studious, and the next, you’re using the word ‘dick’ like it’s a friendly neighborhood greeting.”

I peered up at him. “You haven’t met my neighbors.”

“I was under the impression they were two-foot-tall, fluffy, and ate your trash.”

“Oh, they’re the neighbors I like. It’s the others I don’t get along with.”

He released me, once again putting a little distance between us.

I mean, I got it.

This was not a date.

I’d said that a thousand times.

But it was a little nice having his arm around me.

Just a little.

Like cake on your period kinda nice.

“You want barbecue?” Preston asked as the Ferris’ barbecue stall came into view.

My stomach rumbled, answering the question for me. “A pulled pork sandwich sounds good.”

“With coleslaw and fries?”

“Keep the fries, leave the coleslaw.”

“You don’t like coleslaw?”

I shook my head. “You can have mine.”

“This is getting better by the minute.” He laughed and, after steering me toward an empty picnic table, deposited me on the bench. “I’ll get this. Sit here while there’s a free table.”

“All right, but I’m totally winning you a stuffed animal later.”

“I’m not sure stuffed animals are my style.”

“So I’ll win you one, then you feel so bad that you give it to me. How’s that?”

“Done. Let me line up before this gets any crazier.” Preston gave me a half-smile, the kind that was tentative yet reached his eyes, making them brighter than usual.

My stomach flipped as he took his place at the end of the line. There were several people in front of him, but it didn’t take them long to get through the waiting customers. Polystyrene containers filled with food were handed out to customer after customer, and even though I hadn’t intended on Preston buying my food, it’d turned out to be a good idea.

By the time he reached the front of the line, all the tables were crammed full. We were on a small one so there was no worry that strangers would join us, but I had to be honest, I was more worried about people I knew hijacking this.

Small towns and all that.

Little news became big gossip in mere seconds.

Maybe that was why I was so reluctant to call this a date. All it took was for one person to see us and get the wrong—ahem, right—idea, and it’d be spread through Creek Falls by my bedtime.

I’d have phone calls from my mom, my dad, my stepmom, the girl I used to sit next to in math class, my ex-ex-ex’s grandma, and probably the clerk at the grocery store, too.

There was no ‘taking it slow’ in a small town. It was all or nothing, and I wasn’t an all or nothing kinda girl.

I was a… well, I was a freaking book girl. I believed in romance and magic and everything coming together as destiny decreed it. That’s all there was to it.

Also, Preston made me feel like a little girl.

If someone broke into my house, I’d pop out the Glock I kept in my bedside cabinet and shoot their ass.

He smiles the right kinda smile at me, and I turn into a little hot mess.

That’s right. I’d shoot someone who kicked in my front door, but I can’t cope with romantic situations.

I was an adult, y’all. It was a miracle I could pay my damn taxes on time, wasn’t it?

I also couldn’t cook, so…

Preston came over to the table with our food on a big, burgundy tray. He set it down and sat opposite me, swinging his long legs over the seat. “Why is the wine in a can?”

I picked up the ice-cold can of sauvignon. “Because glass bottles are weapons.”

“And cans aren’t?”

“Have you ever seen someone end up in the hospital because they were hit with a can? The can will take more damage than the person.”

He paused. “Fair point. Do you usually drink wine from cans?”

“No. I usually drink it directly from the bottle, because I’m the one who has to do the dishes. Also, I’m saving water, because the bottle doesn’t need to be washed.”

“You’re a genius.”

“They don’t give degrees to idiots.” I shrugged.

“You have a degree?”

I hesitated before I opened my sandwich. “Yes?” It came out as more of a question than anything.

“In what?”

“Library science.”

“They give you degrees in shelving books?”

“I do a lot more than just shelving books.” I sat up a little straighter. “It’s an art form.”

“Shelving books is an art form?”

“Have you ever owned enough books to warrant an entire shelf?”

“No. Every shelf I’ve ever bought has ended up as the room’s resident dumping ground.”

“Then you can hush your mouth.” I pointed at him and raised my eyebrows before finally tucking into my pulled pork sandwich.

“I just never considered librarians needing a degree.”

“I never thought florists needed one either, but don’t you have one?”

Preston scowled. “I’m not a florist.”

I gave him my sweetest smile and tore a piece out of my sandwich. “Oh, you’re not? Are you just the delivery boy then?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HALLEY

Ten Degrees of Banter

“Are you trying to make this awkward?” Preston leaned over the table, resting his forearms on the wooden surface. His upper arms tensed and stretched against the white of his t-shirt that made his tan seem extra dark in the low light.

“I don’t need to try. This is awkward.” My lips pulled to one side. “We can both agree that this came out of nowhere, so I’m seeing where my comfortable spot is.”

He raised one eyebrow, slowly lifting it until his mouth moved with it into a half-smile. “Your comfortable spot is at home, with your raccoons, and no other people.”

“Wow, okay, so there’s no mystery here, is there?”

“You tell everyone that.”

“Because it’s true. I don’t like people. I like animals and books. Neither of those things argue or force me on dates.”

“I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“The only date here is the calendar one.”

“If I didn’t know as much about you as I do, I’d be offended.”

“Be offended.” I dipped a fry into ketchup and met his eyes. “It’s not my responsibility to control what I say just so I don’t upset you.”

“I’m not offended. You’d have to do a lot more than that to offend me.”

“If we have another not a date, I’ll blow you off for my raccoons.”

“I’ll bring peanut butter sandwiches and blow you off, too.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet?”

“Not really. If you can blow me off for trash pandas, I figure I can do the same.”

“It’s a little redundant if you’re blowing me off on my own back porch, don’t you think?”

He leaned forward. “Actually, I’m hoping you’ll be impressed by my thoughtfulness and invite me in so I can get the date back on track.”

I exaggerated my sigh. “I knew there was a catch.”

Preston grinned and winked at me. “You didn’t think I was going to just let you get away with blowing me off, did you?”

“We still have to get through this not a date, first. I owe you a stuffed animal from the milk bottle game.”

“Can you even throw a ball?”

I finished the last of the wine in my can and crunched it up.

“If that was supposed to be a display of your strength, it fell flat.”

“I carry books. I’m strong. But the can wasn’t exactly big, was it?”

Preston held up his hands. “Okay. Go kick my ass at the milk bottle stall.”

“If you win a stuffed animal, do I get both?”

“I wouldn’t dream of giving my not a date anything other than all my prizes that I win.”

“What a gentleman you are, Preston Wright. Even if you have been kissing other women all day.” I grinned, catching my tongue between my teeth, and swung my legs over the side of the bench to stand.

His laughter was loud and infectious, and by the time he was on his feet, I found myself giggling under my breath.

He trashed our wrappers and put the tray on the designated stand before joining me again. He looped one arm around my shoulders like he’d done it a thousand times before and guided me toward the exit. “Ignoring all the women I’ve kissed today,” he said, barely stopping his chuckle. “I’m going to kick your ass at the milk bottles.”

“I doubt that.”

“I played baseball in high school. I’ve got one hell of a right arm.”

“Is that your spanking arm?”

“For someone who didn’t want to go out with me, you’re awfully confident.”

I cupped my hands over my mouth and laughed, dipping my head until my chin touched my chest. “I just… I don’t know. Nothing about this was supposed to make sense. We aren’t even friends, Preston, yet here we are…”

“Getting along like we’ve been best friends for years?”

“Well, yeah. This might be the only time we’ve ever been alone.”

“Have you considered that might be why we’re getting along? Neither of us have any expectations for this since you’re so adamant it’s not a date. It’s just two people who kissed spending time together.”

“Well, to be fair, we kissed before we’d ever really gotten along.”

“Maybe kissing really does cure all.” He grinned and, releasing me, darted ahead of me to the milk bottle stand.

I refused to run so by the time I’d caught up with his long-legged gait, he already had the balls on the platform in front of him and was ready to go. I handed the woman on the other side five dollars for three balls and got into my battle stance.

In other words, my feet were positioned to be as wide as my hips, and I was ready to go.

Yes, I was competitive.

No, it wasn’t always one of my better qualities.

“Three… Two… One.” Preston counted us down, and we both threw the first ball at the exact same time.

I felt like a freaking Pokémon trainer, throwing the ball over my shoulder like I was aiming for something worth shooting for.

In reality, I was throwing a baseball at old milk bottles.

That’s right. This was glamorous as fuck.

We threw all our balls until we were out. Neither of us had managed to get all the bottles down.

“Another go?” asked the woman as she went behind the stands and retrieved the milk bottles. “Five for three balls again.”

“I got it,” Preston said, pulling out five bucks. He handed it to her and took the offered three balls. Those three were a bust, too, so he took another three.

Yet another bust.

I nudged him when he pulled out another five. “Maybe a goldfish is more your speed.”

“Nope.” He cracked his neck. “I’m going to win, damn it.”

“You know the prize is a stuffed animal.”

He pointed to the back, left corner. There was a stuffed raccoon hanging from the rafters by its tail. “That stuffed animal.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You know you can’t show that to the real ones. I think Paul is reaching puberty. He was humping my fence post the other night.”

“We’ll discuss your naming of wild animals later. Name the stuffed one instead.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“So is you naming wild raccoons. Name it, damn it.”

“Lily. Fine, it’s Lily.” God only knew Betty was only birthing boys these days. I knew because she always let me check her babies. She hadn’t had a girl in three years.

Preston cracked his knuckles. “Watch me win you Lily.”

“I’ve watched you not win her three times now.”

“Support would be nice.”

“I’m sorry, I left my pompoms at home tonight. I can probably find a YouTube video, though.”

“Of you?”

“No. I was never a cheerleader. I was being sarcastic.”

“Waving books would probably take someone’s eye out.”

“I’ll take your eye out.”

He peered over at me with a grin as three more balls were placed in front of him. With a few rolls of his shoulder, he grabbed the first ball. He threw it, and all the bottles collapsed to the floor below.

The woman cackled out a laugh. “You’re the first this year. What’s your prize, sir?”

Preston’s grin spread wider. “Ask her.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip then, with my cheeks flushing, said, “The raccoon, please.”

The woman unhooked the raccoon from its noose in the back corner and passed it to me. “Here you go, darlin’. So sweet!”

The stuffed raccoon was soft and warm as Preston draped it around my neck. He pulled me into him, eyes shining, lips still curved. Except now there was a self-satisfied glint that bordered on smugness.

“Told you,” he said in a low voice. “And you still didn’t beat me.”

“All right,” I said back, peering up at him through my lashes. “There’s a shooting game just over there. Goldfish for the winner.”

He tickled my chin with the tail of the raccoon. “You’re making this too easy, do you know that?”

I shrugged and followed him. It took everything I had to hide my smile. My dad had spent hours on these games with me, telling me how to shoot accurately. I’d won these games before I’d been able to shoot an actual gun in the range, and it’d done me well.

I was many things, but a bad shot was not one of them.

I also didn’t advertise my ability with a firearm. There was no way for Preston to know that I was about to beat his ass at this game.

We made our way over to the shooting game. He bragged about his finesse the entire time to the point I actually pulled the money out of my purse and paid for his turn.

I shrugged. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

He side-eyed me but didn’t argue with me. I stroked the tail of the stuffed raccoon that was snuggled firmly around my neck and took a step back.

This was fun.

Too fun.

Damn it.

He took his designated five shots. Somehow, he missed every single time bar one. That one that did hit was so bad it only grazed the target.

“I thought you were a great shot.” I turned to him, sliding the raccoon down to the stall. I set it on the counter in front of me and handed the guy on the other side the money for my turn.

Preston took my purse. “You’re not going to do better than me.”

I shrugged. “I can’t do much worse.”

The guy in the stall chuckled. “She’s not wrong, dude.”

I took the gun he offered me with a small smile and got comfortable with the flimsy thing in my hands. I lined up my shots and, one by one, hit each target almost perfectly.

“What the fuck?” Preston muttered, handing me back my purse. “What the hell did I just watch?”

I grinned and took the goldfish in the little plastic bag I was offered. It swam around quite happily, and I held it out to Preston. “Here you go.”

He looked at the fish, then back up at me. “You’re giving me the goldfish?”

“You won my raccoon. I won you a goldfish.” I shrugged. “Seems fair.”

“I don’t have anywhere to put a goldfish,” he replied.

“And I don’t have anywhere to put a stuffed raccoon. The real ones might get jealous. Yet here I am, carrying it around on my shoulders like it’s a hairless cat and I’m plotting world domination.”

“Take the goldfish, man. All you need is a little bowl, and you can get those for like ten bucks in Walmart.” The stall guy shrugged. “Besides, you need a reminder that your girl is a better shot than you.”

“Oh. Um… I’m not his girl,” I said, shuffling awkwardly.

“First date.” Preston swooped in with the recovery and a wink in my direction.

“My bad. Well, at least you know that she won’t miss if you ever get someone break-in.”

I hid my smirk with a dip of my head.

Preston took the goldfish from me and muttered something under his breath. I think it was related to going to the range and practicing so he wouldn’t be shown up by a girl, but he walked off before I could hear it all.

Laughing, I made sure I grabbed my raccoon and chased after him. He was still muttering to himself when I caught up to him, and I couldn’t stop laughing. His face was red, and I could taste his embarrassment from where I was walking along next to him.

“It’s a game, Preston,” I reminded him. “A game.”

“You’re such a good shot that you could shoot me with your eyes closed. Me and Uranus don’t deserve this.”

“Uranus?”

He held up the goldfish. “This is Uranus.”

“Why? Because the guy was an ass?”

“You’re a good shot, beautiful, and annoyingly smart. What am I doing here?”

“Punching above your weight?”

He shot me a dark look. His lips twitched, giving away his amusement, and within seconds, he was laughing and wrapping one arm around me and pulling me into his side. “You’re something else. Do you have time to ride the Ferris wheel, or do you have to get back to feed your neighbors?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I asked my mom to put a couple of sandwiches out when she was passing by earlier. I have time.”

“Ah, a planner. I like that.” He winked and steered us in the direction of the giant wheel. “What if Uranus is scared of heights?”

“He’s a goldfish. He’s more likely to die in a bowl overnight than he is going on a Ferris wheel. I’m not sure they get vertigo.”

He lifted the bag in front of him so he could look at his new pet. “Buckle up, Uranus, we’re going on a ride.”

I pressed my lips together and looked up so I wouldn’t laugh.

I wasn’t going to laugh.

I really wasn’t.

Okay, I laughed. I was terrible at keeping my amusement in at the best of times, and he just happened to say the wrong thing right then.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Dawson.”

“I can’t,” I somehow managed to eke out through my giggles. “I don’t think anal usually comes with that kind of a warning.”

“I thought you didn’t like anal.”

“I don’t like anal, but pornstars do, and it creeps up on a girl occasionally.”

“Creeps up on you? It’s not a stalker.”

“In the videos, Preston.” My cheeks flamed.

“Holy shit. A woman who admits she watches porn. I think I just fell in love with you.”

I choked on my own spit. Literally choked. Eyes watering and everything.

His laugh was harder than any of mine had been all night. “You are so precious, you know that?”

I elbowed him. “Shut your mouth.”

The Ferris wheel stopped, letting two people get off, and we took their places. I hadn’t been on this ride in forever—two seats didn’t work when you had two best friends and you were all single.

Night was falling in earnest now. Stars were visible across the darkest section of the sky, while the rest was a stunning gradient of blue to light blue to yellow to orange and red, painting the sky in a captivating watercolor.

I clung tightly to my raccoon and Preston did the same to the goldfish. I didn’t care what he said; I wasn’t going to call it Uranus every time I needed to refer to it.

I shivered as our car moved closer to the top. The wheel was positioned to see out over the entire fair, and that was the exact view we had now. Bright lights illuminated the entire landscape, and I looked out over it all with wonder. It was beautiful, especially when you looked out further past the fair.

You could see the town square with the illuminated water feature in the middle. Store lights along Main Street either side of it were still on, and people milled around the street as they did a bit of evening shopping. Screams from the rides geared to the more adrenaline-loving people filled the air, but they were but a whisper as we reached the very top.

Preston leaned back and rested one arm over the back of the car. His fingertips tickled my upper arm as he leaned in. “Can you hold Uranus a minute?”

“It might be awkward to reach round there.”

He flattened his lips, but laughter flashed in his ever-expressive eyes. “The fish, Halley, not your actual anus.”

“Why can’t you hold it?”

“Can you just do as I ask?”

I rolled my eyes and took the fish, nestling him carefully on my lap. “There.”

“Thank you.” He shifted, making the car rock, and a squeal escaped my lips. His mouth pulled up into a half-grin that was entirely too amused for my liking, but he moved so swiftly and smoothly that I couldn’t tell him to go away.

He slid one hand along my jaw, cupping the side of my face, and turned my head toward him. Our lips came together too easily, drawn to each other as if they were opposite poles.

My eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

This was nothing like the kiss from yesterday. That one had been filled with frustration, pent-up or otherwise.

This kiss?

Dear Lord, it was like magic.

It was the kind of sweet kiss you dreamed of; it was the kiss that said everything yet said nothing at the very same time. I felt it from the tingling on my scalp to the curling of my toes. The feeling that zinged through my body was simply indescribable.

There was nothing but that moment.

Hanging in the air, sitting next to Preston, with his palm against my cheek and his lips pressed sweetly against mine.

It was a simple kiss, but at the same time, it was a perfect one.

I’d never had one like it before, and I doubted I’d ever have another quite the same.

I was okay with that because it was everything. The setting, the moment, the feeling, the guy.

The guy.

God, it was the guy.

The guy I’d wanted for years. The guy I’d never really gotten along with because it was easier to keep my feelings to myself than admit to him that they existed.

Until tonight.

That kiss was the one that held everything I’d never said.

All I could do was hope that he’d heard it, because I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the courage to say it myself.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – HALLEY

Animals > People

I put my key in my front door and turned it. The click of the lock was satisfying, and I kept my hand on the doorknob when I spun to face Preston. He’d followed me home from the fair because he insisted on ‘walking’ me to my door.

“I had fun tonight,” I said softly. “Despite my reservations.”

His lips twitched. “Thank you for the inappropriately named fish.”

“I had nothing to do with the name. It was all you.”

“I am stupidly proud of it.”

“I figured you would be. Thank you for the raccoon—that I will keep safely inside so Boris doesn’t get ideas.”

“Boris?”

“The daddy raccoon. He can get randy. I saw him getting off with a branch once.”

“Your life is a never-ending thrill ride, isn’t it?”

“Only if you consider horny trash pandas thrilling.”

Preston paused. “I’m not sure I do, actually.”

“Well, there you go then.”

He laughed and took a step closer to me. “What do you think? Is a second date on the cards?”

“Ask me tomorrow when I’ve witnessed you kissing fifty-something different women.”

“You don’t have to witness anything. That’s what the curtain between us is for. I’m not exactly looking forward to you kissing other people, either.”

“I didn’t make you sign up for the booth.”

“I’m glad I did. If I didn’t, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you did.” I dragged the side of my bottom lip through my teeth as I smiled. “And I guess it was a date in the end.”

“It was always a date.” Preston tugged on a lock of my hair, but instead of letting his hand fall, he brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek. The slight curve of his lips was reflected in the brightness of his eyes, and I instinctively leaned in as he dipped his head.

Our lips touched for the second time tonight.

“Goodnight, Halley,” he whispered against my mouth.

He released me and walked to his car that was parked at the end of my drive. My lips were warm where he’d kissed me, and I touched my fingers to them as I waved him goodbye.

His headlights lit up my street, and I waited on the doorstep until they were gone and the road was left in near darkness again.

Then, and only then, did I step inside my house.

I was barely inside for two minutes and removed my shoes when the clunk of my trash can falling over filled the air.

Goddamn those trash pandas.

I unlocked the back door and stomped outside. The back porch light clicked on and lit up the culprits. Two gray raccoons with black beady eyes and bushy tails jerked their little heads toward the porch where I stood with my hands on my hips.

“Boris! Rufus!” I scolded the two grown-up raccoons. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Neither of them moved. They were so used to me at this point that they knew I meant food, and the food I served was far better than the rotten banana skins and God knows whatever else was in my trash.

“You two sit there for two minutes, and I’ll make your sandwiches. You really need to learn some patience, boys. It’s unbecoming!”

With that, I turned back into my kitchen and set about making half a dozen sandwiches for them. There was no way my mom had come by earlier, and I could have kicked myself for thinking she would have.

She was flakier than a bakery full of pastries.

I pulled out a new jar of peanut butter and set to slathering six slices of cheap bread with yesterday’s sell-by date with it. There were no signs of mold, and I wasn’t buying those little freeloaders expensive, fresh bread, so they had what they were given.

I slapped the sandwiches together and cut each one into squares. I really wasn’t all that sure when this had become a part of my life as easily as it had, but at least I was a sandwich pro by now. Maybe I needed to leave the library and open my own sandwich truck.

Aimed solely at hungry, trash-pilfering wildlife.

I could guarantee there was a market for it.

I put the sandwiches on a plate and carried it outside, plus a bottle of mineral water. I didn’t usually water the little heathens with anything this fancy, but I really couldn’t be bothered to take the bowl inside to the tap.

They were drinking like kings tonight.

I knelt down in front of the bowls and distributed the sandwiches between the empty ones, then filled up the water one. Three more raccoons came out of the shadows of the woodland my yard backed up on to. One was Betty, the family matriarch, and the other two were adolescents.

I sat on the top step, watching as they bounded up the steps past me. My yard was lit up almost entirely thanks to the kitchen light that poured out over the area. Combined with the porch light, it meant I could see almost every inch of my space.

I smiled at the sight of the raccoons grabbing sandwiches and eating them like humans. Their little black fingers clenched their squares tightly as they nibbled away.

Betty eyed me as she took two sandwiches.

I knew what that meant. She ate more when she had baby buns in the oven. That meant I’d be feeding them for another few years yet.

“Oh, Betty, you really need to have a word with Boris, do you know that? He’s a randy little bastard, isn’t he?”

She said nothing. Obviously. I wasn’t a witch and animals couldn’t talk.

I’m sure she’d tell me to shut up and make her another sandwich if she could.

I sighed, but it was a happy one. “I had a date tonight. With Preston. You know, Reagan’s brother? The guy you’ve heard me muttering about for months? Yeah. He kissed me, and we went out. It was weird.”

No weirder than me talking to wild animals like Cinder-freakin’-ella, but I never claimed to be normal.

“A good weird, though. It was fun. We laughed, and I think we both had a really good time. He named the goldfish I won him Uranus, and that gave way to my slightly awkward sense of humor.”

Or weird sensibilities, like talking to raccoons.

At least I owned it.

“He makes me feel like I’m thirteen again. It’s so strange. I was so nervous before, and Reagan was on my ass about my self-confidence before it. She’s right; I need to do better. I just get so nervous, you know?”

Rufus paused mid-square.

“I always think I’ll mess it up. Plus we’re totally different people. I don’t know how it’ll ever work between us. He’s better with someone more like him, isn’t he? I don’t even know anymore, y’all. We get together like we did tonight, like we never have, and I was my usual sarcastic self. There was no sign of my lacking confidence.”

I shook my head.

Maybe showing him how I unloaded my problems on wildlife like they were my own personal therapy team would make him realize how crazy I was.

Then again, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t need a therapy team.

God knew I wasn’t going to pay a hundred dollars an hour for one.

I sighed, leaning back against the fence post. “Maybe I do need to work on my confidence like Reagan said. Despite my inability in the kitchen, I’m not that bad, am I? I’m funny and smart, and I care about you little trash pandas.”

Betty side-eyed me.

“Oh. No. Don’t look at me like that, Betty. I’m not here for your motherly rants, okay? I just want to talk out my feelings. Y’all won’t charge me for this session because you already got your sandwiches.”

She chittered. It was a high-pitched noise that sounded like endless squeaks.

“Betty! Calm your tits.”

She carried on, throwing her sandwich for good effect.

“What, you didn’t like that one?”

More chittering.

“Do you want me to shut up?”

Even more chittering.

It was going through me now, like nails on a chalkboard. It was over and over, almost panicked, and I rushed over to her.

“Are you hurt?” I reached for her, and she let me. I knew none of these held diseases because I’d had them vaccinated against rabies as soon as it’d become obvious they weren’t going to leave me alone.

She trusted me because I was able to run my hands over her body and that of both her babies without any of them attacking me.

Yes. I was literally their mother at this point.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Betty.” I stood and wiped my hands together. “I need to wash my hands. Stop that damn noise, would you?”

I walked into the kitchen and, with a few healthy squirts of antibacterial soap, I scrubbed my hands clean.

Turning, I went to the oven to grab the towel that hung over the handle, and I saw it.

Boris.

Boris was in my house, and he was humping my newly acquired stuffed raccoon that was somehow on my kitchen floor.

He was going like hell. Impressively fast, actually. His little ass moved frantically, and his tail flapped like a flag in a hurricane. Little squeaky grunts accompanied his one-man party, and I wrinkled my face up in disgust.

I grabbed my phone from the counter and snapped a five-second video. I sent it to Preston.

ME: Well, that’s ruined.

I put the phone back down and clapped my hands loudly. “Boris! That’s enough!”

He ignored me, continuing on his little sex show with my poor toy.

“Boris!” I grabbed the broom from the utility room just off the kitchen and used it to shove him toward the back door.

His chittering became distressed, but I gave him one good push, and he fell over the threshold, getting off the stuffed animal. One more push and he was a few feet away from the door.

He bared his teeth at me.

“Hey!” I gave another push of the brush in his direction. “Get out, you furry pervert! You come back when you’re ready to apologize for defiling my new friend!”

I slammed the kitchen door to punctuate my point. It rattled through the kitchen, and I locked it, just in case one of them had figured out how to open the door at any point.

It wouldn’t surprise me since they were quite intelligent.

I picked the stuffed raccoon up by its ear and carried it through to my empty washer. After setting it on a gentle wash with a view to do it again tomorrow morning, I grabbed my phone on the way to get a bottle of water from the fridge. There was a message from Preston that I opened as soon as I shut the door.

PRESTON: It was inevitable really, wasn’t it?

ME: I put him on the table. Boris is a horny little fucker. He needs help.

PRESTON: I don’t think they do therapy for wild animals.

ME: They should. They need it.

PRESTON: Halley, you named wild animals.

ME: How else do I tell the greedy little shits apart?

PRESTON: Most people don’t.

ME: I’m not most people.

PRESTON: That might be one of my favorite things about you.

ME: That feels like a save.

PRESTON: From what?

ME: The fact I name wild animals and can tell them apart.

PRESTON: Forget I said anything.

ME: No. We had a great night tonight and you’ve all but insinuated that I need therapy for naming wild animals.

I was allowed to joke about it. It was my thing. It was my jam. Wild animals, specifically raccoons, were my thing. I loved them, even Boris.

Preston didn’t get to joke about that.

I hated that I was a little hurt about what he’d insinuated. And he had—he’d pointed out that it’s not normal to name wild animals and tell them apart.

Well he had another think coming his way, didn’t he? I had a friend who lived in the UK who rescued wild hedgehogs. And you know what? She named those prickly little bastards and she could tell them apart whenever they rolled into her backyard.

In fact, she messaged me new images of them whenever a baby headed her way and needed to be rehabbed. Three in five years—Miss Bella, Lord Pindsvin, and Hoggie.

Apparently, ‘pindsvin’ means spiky pig in Danish. There never was and never would be a more perfect name for a hedgehog in all of eternity, so be it, blessed be, a-freakin’ men.

So Preston could joke all he wanted, but there were people out there who loved the natural wildlife.

Honestly, he was lucky I fed raccoons and didn’t rehabilitate hedgehogs. I’d send them after him and see how he liked getting pricked.

ME: I’m going to bed. Goodnight.

I locked my doors and turned off all lights on my way upstairs. I removed all my makeup and changed into a tank top and old shorts adorned with faded Mickey Mouse heads.

Without looking at my phone on the nightstand, I removed my makeup, brushed my hair, then climbed into bed.

I wasn’t going to give Preston Wright another moment of my weirdo thoughts.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – PRESTON

How To Fit Your Foot In Your Mouth

I had no idea what I was watching on TV.

It was some bullshit talk show, but none of what they were talking about pertained to my situation right now.

I doubted any would.

There was nobody else like Halley.

Somehow, I’d pissed her off. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d managed to do it, but if I had to guess, it was my flippant comment about naming wildlife.

It was weird, but that was Halley’s kind of weird.

It was part of her.

I should have known better than to bring it up like it was a fault of hers. The truth was that it wasn’t. It wasn’t a fault. It was one of her strongest qualities.

I’d have to tackle her to make her listen to me now though.

There was something to be said for texting, and none of it was good.

A sarcasm font would be fucking magic, thank you.

Now, I had to fight my way out of this. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Halley stood by what she believed in with a fervent determination that was nothing short of admirable. I also knew that she didn’t suffer fools and that she wasn’t interested in anyone who was going to devalue anything she stood for.

The only good thing here was that she didn’t have a choice but to see me. The booth meant that we had to spend hours a day together, and there was no way she could avoid me entirely.

My front door shook as someone banged against it. The incessant rattling was quickly joined by a second fist, and I didn’t need an expert to tell me who was outside.

The cavalry had arrived.

I could have sworn that Reagan and Ava had jobs.

I tugged the door open just enough that my face fit through the gap. “Who let you in?”

“Mrs. Hennington on the second floor,” Ava answered.

“I buzzed her and told her you’d been a fuckboy, and she let us in. After she’d had an explanation over what a fuckboy is,” Reagan continued.

“Miscommunication does not equal a fuckboy,” I shot back. “Why are you both here?”

“We’re here to help you.” My sister retied the scarf that held her long hair back from her face. “Believe it or not, we actually believe that you and Halley have what it takes to go the distance, but we aren’t happy with you right now.”

“It was a miscommunication!”

Ava shoved at the door. “Lesson one: never joke about what she cares about the most.”

“Thanks, Sherlock. I hadn’t figured that out.”

“Are you sassing me?” She stalked across my living room and snapped her fingers. “I didn’t think so!”

“Settle down.” Reagan wandered into my kitchen and opened my fridge, peering inside. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page. Preston, where are you?”

“In my apartment,” I said dryly. “Being assaulted with two wannabe cupids who can’t let nature take its course.”

“You’ll fuck up nature.” Reagan shut the fridge and pulled herself up onto the counter. “I have not dedicated this much time to getting your sorry asses together for you to falter at the first hurdle.”

“You’ve done nothing.”

Ava coughed. “Actually, we’re like spies. We work behind the scenes. Which makes it even worse that I have to say this: Do not attack the raccoons!”

I stared at her. “Call Sherlock. He appears to have lost his Watson.”

“Preston!”

“It was a joke!” I snapped, turning on them both. “Why don’t you ask Halley why she was so hurt by what I said? Humor doesn’t translate well over text. That’s not my fault.”

“Because I know!” Reagan shouted. She froze, rubbing her hand over her mouth before she sagged. “You hurt her, Preston, and the reason why is irrelevant. She doesn’t need to justify her feelings to you. You know she loves animals—your text was misconstrued, but it matters to her. We don’t always need to give someone a reason for why their words hurt us.”

Ava rested her hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Sometimes, words hurt because they came from someone we never expected would hurt us.”

Reagan glanced at her, then me. “And sometimes, it’s because it comes from someone we always thought would hurt us.”

“Are you saying Halley thinks I’d deliberately hurt her?” My voice cracked halfway through. “That’s bullshit!”

“Not to her.” Ava came and sat on other end of the sofa. “She’s such a gentle soul, Preston. She’s so easily hurt. Her mom cares more about her marriages than her, and she has so many years of pain tied up in her identity. Her dad loves her more than anything, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

Reagan swallowed. “We’re the only people she trusts. She doesn’t believe she’s good enough for anyone. It’s not her fault—it’s simply that her mom’s half-assed attempt at parenting has told her as much. If you tell someone something enough times, they’ll believe it.”

“She doesn’t show it.” I ran my hand through my hair and sank down on the sofa. “Jesus, I don’t know what to do about this. She’s so… confident.”

“Well, she’s not. She might appear it, but that’s because everyone expects it of her. Everyone expects her to be this outgoing, confident person, so she becomes that to hide the fact that she has the self-confidence of a bag of oranges.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?”

“You’re not,” Ava said brightly, a smile spread across her face. “You’re supposed to wing it like everyone else.”

“Then why am I the bad guy here?”

“Because you hurt her feelings.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Reagan slid off the counter and joined us in by the sofa. “Of course you didn’t. Nobody is saying that you did, you absolute oaf. You still have to fix it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Jesus, Lord, give me strength!” Ava looked to the ceiling. “You apologize!”

I raised an eyebrow. “That never crossed my mind.”

“Have you done it yet?”

“No. I wanted to say it in person. Texting her caused this situation.” I leaned back on the sofa. “You can’t tell me that was a bad idea.”

They both opened their mouths to presumably argue with me, but quickly changed their mind and answered with a shake of their heads.

“No. It makes sense.” Reagan sighed, as if it’d been hard for her to actually admit that. “Did your date go well until that point?”

“You mean you haven’t already spoken on the phone for two hours, dissecting every second of the entire evening so you can psycho-analyze every word I said and every single thing I did?”

“Actually, no.” Ava shrugged. “She was far too mad at you to recount any second. It was annoying, actually. There was something about a horny raccoon I didn’t understand.”

“I can help with that.” I got my phone from the table and opened our messages from the previous night, scrolling until I found the video she’d sent me. “Here.”

Reagan took the phone from me, and Ava leaned over her shoulder to watch. It was only a short video, literally seconds long, but it took probably only two for them both to respond.

They burst out laughing with my sister almost dropping my phone in the process. I leaned over and took it back before she smashed the screen and I had to pay a small fortune to fix it.

Reagan brushed tears from her cheeks. “Is that a stuffed raccoon its humping?”

“Yep. The one I won for her at the stupid milk bottle stall.”

“I bet it was Boris,” Ava said. “He’s a horny little bastard.”

“Even you know their names?”

“Well, yeah.” Her eyebrows went up. “They’re important to Halley, which means they’re important to us. If she’s on vacation, we take it in turns to go over and feed them. That’s what you do when you care about someone. You care about the things that matter to them.”

“I don’t need a lecture on being a good person.” I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together in front of me. “I didn’t know they were that important to her. I guess I’m struggling to get my head around it—they’re wild animals. I always thought it was cute, but she really cares about them, doesn’t she?”

Reagan and Ava shared a look.

“She does,” my sister said with a nod. “It started out as a joke, but over time, it just became a part of her routine, and the raccoons became a part of her life. We call her the crazy raccoon lady because she is, but it’s something she embraces.”

“So you’re telling me that some people enter a relationship with kids, but Halley comes with raccoons.”

“Pretty much,” Ava said brightly. “And you’ve not only pissed off Halley, but you’ve pissed off the part of her that loves those little dirtbags.”

Reagan nodded her head. “If I were you, I’d make some sandwiches.”

***

I wasn’t going to make sandwiches.

I told myself that a thousand times. I wasn’t going to do it. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to feed wild animals, and that was that.

Which was exactly why I was walking toward the kissing booth with my backpack filled with peanut butter damn sandwiches.

That’s right.

I’d given in and made the sandwiches. If this was how I had to prove to Halley that I wasn’t a total ass and I did care, then this was how I had to do it.

I’d never considered for a second that she didn’t have any self-confidence. The more I thought about what Reagan and Ava had said, the more it sunk in. Everyone in town knew about her family relationships, thanks to her dad being who he was, so the fact that her relationship with her mom was strained wasn’t all that surprising.

I guess I lived in a perfect world where my parents were married and happy, so I’d never experienced that pain.

Much less constant weddings.

It wouldn’t surprise me if her, Reagan, and Ava had a bet on her mom’s upcoming marriage to Stephen.

I wanted to know more about how she felt. It was the first time I’d honestly felt like I really cared about someone. Last night was the first date I’d been on since college where I could see a future with the other person.

There was something about Halley Dawson.

And whatever it was, it was fucking captivating.

The rope that signaled the booth was closed was open, dragging on the floor. One end was in a bit of mud, so I gave it a tug until it was out of it. It was heavy enough without being soaked in mud, too.

Pushing the curtain open, I readied myself for the onslaught of anger that I was sure I was going to get.

“Sorry, we’re not—” Halley turned and stopped when she saw me. “Oh, hey, it’s you.”

She smiled.

She fucking smiled.

I faltered for a moment. “Hey,” I responded. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She went back to straightening up the stage. “What’s up?”

Was she being serious? “What do you mean, what’s up? Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t have asked.”

I put down my backpack and leaned on the edge of the stage. “All right, cut the crap. I already had a visit from Tweedledum and Tweedledee and know that you’re pissed at me.”

She jerked her head around. “I’m not pissed. It’s fine. We went on one date, Preston. It’s not the end of the world.”

I slid my bag across the wood toward her. “Open that.”

“I’m not going in your backpack.”

“Just open it.”

“No. I can’t imagine that there’s anything in there I need to see.” She pushed it back toward me. “It’s fine. You think it’s weird that I name raccoons and can tell them apart. I even felt one up last night.” She shrugged a shoulder and grabbed the cup of coffee that was sitting on the stool. “It is weird—”

“But it’s your kind of weird,” I finished. “Look, what I said didn’t come across well. It was supposed to be a joke, but I didn’t know how important they are to you until Reagan and Ava came over this morning.”

Halley pursed her lips.

“Open the bag.”

She continued to stare at me.

I sighed and reached for the zipper. “Fine. I’ll do it.” I opened my backpack and pushed it back over to her.

Her gaze darted down at it, and her cheek twitched. “Is that a backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, why do you have a backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches?”

“It’s a peace offering.” I fought a smile. “And an apology. To you and the raccoons.”

“I’m not sure the raccoons had their feelings hurt, but a day off making sandwiches sounds like a real treat.” She peered over at me, biting her lower lip. “I overreacted a bit.”

“To be honest, insinuating that you needed therapy was a step too far.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.” Shaking her head, she zipped the backpack back up. “But while we’re on the subject of weird, this is the weirdest apology I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah. I figured I had to fight weird with weird.” I smirked. “So… we’re good?”

It felt like forever until Halley finally smiled. “We’re good. At least Betty won’t have to hear me talk shit about you tonight.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip and grinned. “She’s probably still mad at Boris for cheating on her with a stuffed animal.”

“True.” She pointed at me. “It was touch and go there for a moment. Now I can add sweeping a raccoon out of my kitchen to the list of things I never thought I’d do.” She turned, then stopped. “See, talking to you about the raccoons? Now it feels weird. It’s not this strange when I’m sitting on the back porch alone.”

I laughed and climbed up onto the stage with her. Taking the coffee from her, I set it back on the stool, then ran my hands down her arms. “So…Are we still on for the second date?”

“We’ll see.” She peered up at me. “You have to feed my raccoons first.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – HALLEY

Get In The Kitchen and Make Me A Sammich

“You want me to feed the raccoons?” Preston blinked at me.

I nodded. “You made them sandwiches. Did you think I was just going to take them and do it myself?”

“I… Yeah.”

“Nope. You’re coming to meet Betty, Boris, and all their babies.”

“All their babies? How many are there?”

“Not a lot, but I think Betty’s pregnant, so…”

“How do you know she’s pregnant?”

“She eats more when she’s pregnant.” I shrug. “Last time, she ate a ton more sandwiches, disappeared for like a week, then came back and ate loads. A couple of weeks later, she showed up with three babies in tow.”

“Wow. How many babies do they have at once?”

“Up to eight.” I picked my coffee up. “But I hope she doesn’t have eight, because I already have to make enough sandwiches. I’m not sure I can feed that many.”

Preston’s lips tugged to one side. “You’ll sure as hell try, though, won’t you?”

“Maybe,” I muttered behind my cup. He didn’t even need to ask because he knew damn well that I would try, even if I had to take out a small loan or do a fundraiser or something.

There wasn’t much else I could do. I already bought peanut butter in bulk from the internet.

Preston’s grin reached his eyes, and as soon as my gaze, it was near impossible to stop myself from grinning, too.

“Look, we’re still at a stalemate in our bet.” I held his gaze. “I understand that trash pandas probably aren’t your thing or how you want to spend your Friday night.”

“Are you going to be there?”

“Feeding the raccoons? What else do you think I do on a Friday night?”

“Then I’m happy to be here.”

“Aw. I didn’t know you had a sweet bone in your body, Preston Wright.”

He smirked. “It’s not the only bone I’ve got that you’ll like.”

I blinked at him, unimpressed. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard, and I’ve run this booth for four years. I’ve heard some shit, but that takes a cake.”

Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it sounded sexier in my head.”

I pouted my lips and wrinkled my nose. “No. That’s not sexy no matter how you say it.”

“You were saying about the bet…”

I bit back a laugh. That one was so coming back to haunt him. “If I win, you have to feed the raccoons tonight. If you win, you don’t have to.”

He thought about it for a moment. “You know that my guilt over hurting your feelings is going to make me go anyway, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied simply.

“So why bet it?”

“Because if it doesn’t matter, you’ll do whatever it takes to win so I know you’re feeding them by choice.” I gave him a wan smile and put down my cup. “But if you’re really sorry, you’ll have an emergency which means you have to leave and I win.”

“I don’t see a situation here where I win.”

“There isn’t one.”

“I’m starting to remember why I don’t date.”

“We aren’t dating. We’ve had a date. It’s not dating until it’s plural.”

“You know what? I spent an hour earlier listening to your two best friends tell me all these things about your confidence, but I’m starting to think that it’s my confidence that needs to be worked on here.” He paused. “Like whether I’m confident enough to take on your damn riddles and figure out the right thing to do.”

“Well, if it helps, you’ll do something wrong either way,” I said brightly. “Which is something you should get used to if you do want to date me. I’m never wrong, which means you’ll have to be.”

“You have to be wrong sometimes.”

“There’s like a one percent chance, on average, that I’m wrong.”

“How do you figure that out?”

“I’m a woman,” I replied slowly. “I’m always right.”

“Right,” he said, brow creasing. “Since we’ve just come out of a minor disagreement, I’m going to smile and nod like I agree with you.”

He put on a huge fake smile, widened his eyes, and nodded.

“See? You’re learning?” I grinned at him until he broke and returned it.

“How long do we have until this thing starts?” he asked, taking a step closer to me.

I grabbed his wrist. “You’re the one wearing a watch. Let’s see—five minutes.”

“Good. Then I have enough time to do this.” Preston cupped my face and covered my lips with his. He kissed me slowly, savoring every second until he swiped his tongue along the seam of my mouth.

I yielded, letting him kiss me deeply, and clenched my fingers around the soft cotton of his t-shirt. My toes curled in my ballet flats, pressing hard against the top of them. The tingle that shot down my spine beelined right between my legs and exploded in a firework of lust that had me clenching my thighs together to make it stop.

I did not need to start today turned on.

As if he knew, Preston slid one hand down my body to cup my ass and pull me against him. My stomach pressed into his hip as he held me—

Dear Lord, that’s not his hip.

Nope. Most definitely not.

Unless hips suddenly twitched of their own accord and grew bigger.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

That was Preston’s cock.

Abort mission. Abort! Abort!

“Ooookay!” I breathed, pushing him away from me. “That’s enough of that.”

My cheeks flamed as I turned away from him. I was hot freakin’ everywhere, and there was no way I had enough time to compose myself and put my game face on now.

Damn it.

Preston chuckled. “You smudged your lipstick.”

I shot him a dark look over my shoulder. “And your penis is showing, but there we go.”

He adjusted his shorts. “Yeah. We’re opening late while this goes away.”

I bent over to get my lipstick and mirror from my purse. “Staring at my ass won’t help.”

“Shit, do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

I peered back over at him in time to see him ferociously swipe the curtain so he could get put some kind of barrier between us. It was my turn to laugh.

And, not for the first time, I was thankful that I was a woman.

***

The booth was shut.

It happened every year on Friday night. It was the main round of the talent show, with the final to be judged the following night. You’d think it’d lead to more traffic—and it did, just not to this side of the fair.

It’d been an extraordinarily slow day all around. We’d barely made a hundred bucks between us and, annoyingly, we’d kissed the same amount of people.

It was pretty telling.

We were never going to break the stalemate.

Sometimes, when the universe tells you something, you have to listen.

“Well, now what?” Preston asked, putting his hands in his pockets. It was barely past five, and it was the first time in a week either of us had nothing to do.

“I’m not really sure,” I replied, looking around. “I do know that I’m fed up of this place, though.”

He chuckled, nudging me. “Same. Wanna get something to eat?”

“I guess,” I said hesitantly. “Someplace where nobody will see us and gossip?”

“I got accosted by the milk in the grocery store this morning,” he replied. “So, yes. Why don’t we get pizza at your place since we’re headed there anyway to feed your critters?”

That wasn’t a bad idea.

I nodded my agreement and turned when the sound of my name being yelled made me stop.

“Halley!”

I jerked around, then froze. “Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

I was wrapped in a huge hug before I could even blink. She almost knocked my glasses off, and I had to take a second to right them.

“Surprise!” One of my old college friends, Lauren, squeezed me.

“Holy crap.” I hugged her back just as tightly. We hadn’t seen each other in three years, but she looked exactly the same as she always had. Long, dark hair, dark eyes, bright pink lipstick.

She stepped back and grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Why do you look younger?”

“You need your eyes tested.” I laughed. “What are you doing in town?”

“Oh! That’s right. I’m being rude.”

“No change there,” muttered a tall, good-looking guy who was a couple of feet away from her.

Lauren shot him a look. “Ignore him. He’s moody when he has to be in the car for hours. Like a cat.”

“Yeah, I’m the moody one.” He smirked and gave me a look that said he was used to her sass. “Since she’s not going to introduce us, I’m Mason. Lauren’s boyfriend.”

“Oh! Hi!” I accepted the small hug he offered me. “She’s mentioned you a few times, but hid this trip.” I side-eyed her.

Lauren sighed. “We were supposed to be here three days ago, but my car broke down somewhere in Georgia, and we ended up in a hotel for a couple of nights while it got fixed.”

Preston shuffled next to me.

“Oh, shit, now I’m being rude.” I motioned to Preston. “This is Preston. He’s Reagan’s brother,” I added to Lauren. “He’s on the other side of the curtain this year.”

Lauren wiggled her eyebrows in my direction in a totally unsubtle way. “I’ve heard about you, too! Hi!” She leaned over between us and hugged Preston.

“You have, have you?” Preston eyed me.

I pushed my bangs from my eyes. “Don’t get too excited. None of it was good.”

Mason laughed as he shook Preston’s hand. “Shit, there’s two of them.”

“There’s another Halley?” Preston looked around in disbelief. “I’m out.”

“Hey!” I shoved him. “There being two of you is the scary part.”

Lauren grinned. “So what are you guys doing? Is the booth shut?”

I nodded. “Everyone’s interested in the talent contest. We were gonna head out and get something to eat at my place. You’re welcome to join us.”

Lauren and Mason shared a look before she shook her head. “Thanks, but we’ve been inside for what feels like forever. We’ll hang here for a while, but we should get something to eat tomorrow.”

“Definitely. I’ll text Reagan and Ava and let you know where and when.” I smiled.

“Perfect! Ooh, yay!” She actually bounced when she clapped her hands. “Okay. Come on, Mase, I want one of those huge teddy bears that’s the size of a grown man.”

“It won’t fit in your—never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head. It was the kind of fond exasperation that could only come from someone who was totally in love with her. “It was great meeting you guys.”

“You, too,” Preston replied. “And if they do dinner, I know a great sports bar where we can avoid them.”

“Sports bar? They have wings?”

“You and freakin’ chicken wings,” Lauren said, almost to herself.

“The best fucking wings you’ll ever eat,” Preston said, and he wasn’t lying.

They were damn good wings at Lucky’s. I just didn’t eat them often because I had a tendency to get the sticky sauce absolutely everywhere.

I’d even gotten it on my dad once, and we still weren’t sure how.

“Sold,” Mason said, fist-bumping Preston right before Lauren grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

“See you tomorrow!” she called, waving. Mason threw up a wave, too, but it wasn’t long before they both disappeared into the crowd.

Preston watched them go for a second before turning to me. “She’s… bubbly.”

I laughed and started walking in the direction of the parking lot. “She’s pretty full-on,” I agreed. “But she’s the sweetest person I know, and just about the only person I’ve keep in touch with since college.”

“You met her in college? Where does she live?”

“Florida. Her cosmetology school—she’s a hairstylist—was close to my campus. Dad paid my fees so I have no student debt, but I had to work my way through in general like every other kid.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Part of that was getting cheap haircuts. The school had an on-site salon where their students could practice on real people once they reached a certain skill level. It cost, like, ten? Fifteen bucks? I met Lauren there in sophomore year.”

“Huh. And she came to see you?”

“I guess so. I know we’ll close the booth early tomorrow because the winner is announced during the talent contest, so I’ll probably take her for dinner so that you and Mason can visit the sports bar. But we have to be back by eight for the announcement.”

Preston had parked two cars down from me. “Don’t worry. I won’t lead him astray.” His sparkling eyes said otherwise. “Meet you at your place?”

I nodded and dug my keys out of my purse. “Whoever gets there last buys pizza.”

He smirked, then ran to his car.

Shit.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – HALLEY

Fuck The Feels

I lounged against the doorframe, grinning, as Preston got out of his car. He’d pulled up right behind mine, boxing me into my driveway.

He had a face like thunder as he got out and slammed the door. “You ran the red light!”

My jaw dropped so my mouth formed a huge ‘o.’ “I did not run a red! It was amber when I went!”

“That’s basically red!”

“No, it means get ready to stop, but I wouldn’t be able to break in time. I was committed.”

“Committed to putting your foot down!”

Okay. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. I had pressed the gas pedal a little harder to scoot through before it changed.

“I didn’t break any laws. I wasn’t even speeding. And, if I’d done something wrong, the cop who was parked outside the bar would have stopped me.” I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t be a salty bitch, Preston.”

“You’re always right, you always have to win, and you aren’t willing to accept when you run a red light,” he said, following me into the house. “I should have thought this through.”

“I didn’t run a red!”

“It was red when you went!”

“I was committed!” I said loudly, turning around and putting my hands on my hips. “I couldn’t stop. The cop didn’t stop me. Stop being a baby because I beat you here and now you have to buy dinner. Which you should have been doing anyway.”

“How do you figure that?”

“The first date was even. I won you a goldfish.”

“Yeah. Uranus is dead. Found him floating in the mixing bowl this morning.”

I wasn’t surprised at all, but I clutched my hand to my chest and pretended to be shocked. “One day, Preston, and you’ve already killed the first gift I ever gave you. Did you even try to keep him alive?”

He leveled me with a look. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me.”

“Oh, all right.” I dropped the act. “Everyone knows those fish last for a week at best. Did you at least give him a proper burial?”

“Flushed him down the toilet this morning.”

I nodded solemnly. “May Uranus rest in peace.”

Preston rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked away.

“Wait,” I said quickly. “That came out wrong!”

He blew out his cheeks and held it for a second. That was it. He laughed hard, grabbing my kitchen table to steady himself.

“So immature,” I muttered, turning away so he didn’t see my own laughter that was bubbling beneath the surface.

That was exactly why I’d refused to use the stupid name.

Nothing good came from calling anything Uranus. Ask science teachers who have to teach teenagers about the planetary system.

Yeah.

I pulled an unopen bottle of wine from the fridge and set it on the table. “Would you like some wine?”

He was still laughing.

He was just… standing there. Bent over my table. Shaking. Laughing. Like I’d just done an entire stand-up comedy act or something.

So I did the only thing I could do at that moment.

I stepped closer to him and smacked his ass.

What? It was a great ass, and it was sticking right out. It was prime for smacking, so that’s what I did.

“Shit!” He was still chuckling even as he straightened up. “What was that for?”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, getting the corkscrew and shoving the point into the cork in the wine bottle. “Also, you’ve been here ten minutes and not once have you either complimented my kitchen, ordered pizza, or fed the raccoons.”

“Your kitchen is lovely, it’s too early for the raccoons, and I can order pizza right now.” His lips still twitched with the after-effects of his laughing fit. “And no, I don’t want wine. Do you have beer?”

I yanked the cork out with a satisfying pop. “Do I look like I keep beer?”

“Don’t worry. There’s some in the trunk of my car.”

“Why is there beer in your car?”

He winked. “I’m an optimist. A prepared one at that.”

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him as he headed to the front door and outside to his car. Was it normal to carry beer around in the trunk of your car? What did he do with it? Was it provisions in case his tire blew out and he was stranded at the side of the road?

Did he have an entire emergency kit in there?

I mean, I did, but there wasn’t alcohol. I had enough canned and dried food to survive a zombie apocalypse, though, so there was that.

I could also keep a football team in Gatorade that I switched out regularly.

Look, working in a library, you read a lot of books. Some of those are dystopian.

Also, Netflix.

Preston joined me back in the kitchen and held up a six-pack of beer. “See? Emergency stash.”

“Is that something you always keep in your car? Next to a flashlight and a radio?”

“You have a flashlight and a radio in your car?”

I paused. “No.”

I totally did.

“You do, don’t you?” Preston pulled one can out from the rings and popped the top. “You have an entire emergency kit.”

“You never know when you’re going to get stranded in the dark, in a place with no cell signal, and no civilization for miles. Also, there might be zombies.”

“Do you ever drive to places without cell signal and no civilization?”

“Of course not. I might get lost, though.”

“You could just use GPS.”

“I could get carjacked.”

“They’d spend five minutes with you and run away.” He leaned back against the counter. “All you’d have to do is talk to him about your randy raccoons and hope he isn’t a wildlife enthusiast.”

“If he were, I’d invite him over to see them.” I sniffed and put down my glass. “He’d probably appreciate it.”

“And then burgle you while you pee,” he finished dryly. “And to finally answer your question, no, I don’t always keep beer in my car. I ran by the store during our break earlier and bought some, just in case.”

“You can only drink two, or you can’t drive home.”

His response was to wiggle his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t sleep with people on the second date,” I said firmly. I hadn’t slept with anyone in a while, actually, but that wasn’t the point here. “You can sleep in my spare room, and I’m locking my bedroom door.”

Preston held up his hands. “I’m a gentleman, Halley.”

“Has the gentleman ordered pizza yet?”

“Wow. You are a hard woman to please.”

“Not really. Wine, yoga pants, raccoons, books… I’m fairly simple.”

“Sure.” His tone said he did not believe me. At all. “Pizza?”

“Pepperoni, please. With a cheese-stuffed crust.”

“Fancy,” he muttered. “One pepperoni with a cheese-stuffed crust and one Hawaiian.”

I froze. “You eat pineapple on your pizza?”

He paused, his finger hovering over his phone screen. “Oh, no. You’re a pineapple denier.”

I gasped. “You’re a pineapple warrior!”

“That’s not even a thing!”

“Yes! It is! It’s like those people who march the streets for what they believe in, except yours is pineapple on pizza!” I picked up my glass and shook my head. “This is a disaster. I can’t date someone who eats pineapple on pizza.”

I went out to the back porch. It was still too early for the raccoons, he was right, but it wasn’t for me to sit on the swing and drink wine.

And argue the toss about the atrocity of pineapple on pizza.

“There’s nothing wrong with pineapple on pizza.” Preston joined me, beer in hand, and sat on the other side of the swing.

“There’s nothing right with it.” I shifted so that one of my legs was on the swing. “Preston, pineapple is a fruit.”

“Shut up. It’s fucking not, is it?”

“I don’t think I like your attitude.”

“I don’t think I like your attitude,” he shot back. “Pineapple on pizza is the best thing ever.”

“Fruit does not belong on a pizza!” My voice was slightly shrill at the end. “Fruit is healthy. I’m not eating pizza to be healthy. You wouldn’t put strawberries or banana on a cheese pizza, so why is pineapple okay?”

“It just… is. I don’t know. Ask the Hawaiians!”

“Actually, fun fact, the Hawaiians didn’t create it.”

Preston frowned, the lines in his forehead becoming deep furrows. “Really? Then why is it called the Hawaiian?”

“There’s some Greek Canadian guy who claims he created the ham and pineapple pizza. I think his name is Sam something. He called it the Hawaiian after the name of the pineapple he used.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, French fries weren’t created by the French, either. They came from Belgium.”

“How the fuck do you know this random shit?”

I sipped my wine. “I’m a librarian. There’s an encyclopedia of random shit up here.” I tapped my temple with two fingers. “You overhear things. That was how I learned about the Hawaiian pizza. I heard two high school kids arguing over it.”

“Who won?”

“Nobody. They did a Twitter poll, and it was fifty-fifty. I kicked them out after finding them making out in the paleontology section.”

“Isn’t that the designated make-out aisle in the library?”

“No. T-rex deserves better than that, Preston. He was an icon.”

“He’s also been dead for sixty-five million years. Pretty sure all his fucks dried up when the asteroid hit.”

Fair point.

“I’m just saying. Libraries are for books about kissing—not actual kissing. Unless it’s a proposal.”

Preston’s eyebrows shot up. “A proposal in a library?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Is that insane? I saw someone in McDonald’s propose. It happened on a plane I was on once. If it’s normal at thirty-six-thousand feet, what’s wrong with a library?”

He took a moment before he answered. “That makes total sense. Wow, you really weren’t kidding about how often you’re right.”

“I don’t kid about being right. Just like you apparently don’t kid about kissing.”

He smirked. “I don’t.”

“You did. You kissed my cheek.”

“Are you still salty about that?”

“Yes. I thought you were going to kiss me properly. Way to tear a girl down.”

“I did kiss you properly.”

“After I had a bitch fit.”

He shrugged. “I was keeping you on your toes.”

“No, you were doing what I’d done to you the day before.”

“And that bitch fit, Halley, makes you a hypocrite.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t. He was kinda right about that. “Except I went right in for your cheek, and you actually told me that you wanted to kiss me.”

“I’ve kissed you a few times since then. Can you focus on those instead?”

“No, because then I’ll get distracted and forget to make you feed the raccoons.”

“Halley, you could be in labor and you’d still demand someone feed the raccoons.”

“Actually, I’d make sure they were looked after before I went into labor. It’s not exactly a surprise, you know. Childbirth is guaranteed after pregnancy.”

“Well, I hope you have all boys because this world doesn’t need another you.”

“Oh, please. There could never be another me. I’m far too unique for that.”

“Remind me again why Reagan and Ava spent the entire morning telling me all about your lack of self-confidence?”

I looked him dead in the eye and said, “Because I have raging mommy issues and use sarcasm as a form of defense?”

He looked as if he was going to say something but stopped dead. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

I shrugged. “It’s a fact. I do have mommy issues, and I do use sarcasm as a form of defense. Honestly, I have plenty of self-belief, but I do struggle with confidence.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Not in my eyes. Think of it like this.” I moved so my wine was resting on my knee. “I believe in myself. I know I’m good at my job and that I can achieve anything I put my mind to. The world is my oyster and all that cliché bullshit. I know that. I believe that I can do anything I want if I just work hard enough.

“On the other hand, a part of me is always whispering that I’m not good enough. That it’s all ridiculous, I’m ridiculous, and nobody actually cares about what I’m doing. That voice is a demon that was born of years of me wanting my mom to pay me attention after my parents divorced. If she doesn’t care, how can anyone else?”

Preston tilted his head to the side. His eyes were full of gentle curiosity, but none of the pity or sympathy that I usually got when I spoke about my family issues. It was… nice.

“You keep all of that inside every single day and still manage to be an upstanding, functional member of society? I had no idea until today.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s why you need to be kind to everyone you meet. It doesn’t matter how kind or friendly or outgoing someone is. You have no idea what battle they’re fighting on the inside. Sometimes all you need to do is tell someone their hair looks great and you can change their entire day.”

“Halley?”

“Yeah?”

“Your hair looks great today.”

My cheeks flushed. “You said that because of what I just said.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t make it any less true.” He grinned and leaned forward, tugging gently on my hair. “You’re right, by the way. We should be nicer to people. You included.”

I pursed my lips, but I was fighting a smile. “I think it’s a little different when it’s your best friend’s brother and you’ve never gotten along, ever.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Both of ours.”

“Shit, you’re right.” He laughed and rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. “In my defense, I had a crush on you.”

My eyebrows went up so high that they were practically part of my hairline. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not that hard to believe. You’re smart, funny, and beautiful.” With a wide smile, he tapped my nose. “It was easier to avoid you than admit that I had a crush on my sister’s friend.”

Well, if we were admitting things tonight… “Okay, then I should be honest, too.” I paused. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I laughed, dipping my head and covering my face with my hand. My fingers smudge over my glasses lens, so I put down my glass and pulled them off so I could clean them using my shirt. “It’s true. Honestly. Why would I lie about it? This time last week, I was horrified about you being my competition in the booth because I’d have to see you kissing other women. Or hear it, rather.”

Preston shifted so he was facing me. “If we’re confessing things… I bet you so I’d have an excuse to kiss you.”

My mouth dropped open.

“I was pissed when you kissed my cheek,” he continued. “So I did the same back to you, even though I really fucking wanted to kiss you.”

I groaned, letting my head fall back. “This situation is so messed up.”

My doorbell rang from inside the house, and Preston held up a finger before he shoved his beer at me and got up. He was inside before I had a chance to protest his beer-shoving.

Luckily for him, I knew that was the pizza.

Luckily for me, it gave me a minute to gather my thoughts.

Had I really just admitted to him that I’d had a crush on him for years? Yes, yes I had. He’d admitted he’d had a crush on me, too.

Damn it, I hated it when Reagan was right.

Now I’d have to admit to her.

The only thing worse than admitting to your partner you were wrong was admitting it to your best friend.

Especially since Reagan was a bragger. She’d never let us live this down. Neither would Ava—Jesus, now I’d have to marry Preston just to live out my life in peace.

Wait. That escalated quickly.

I put down his beer and switched it out for my wine glass. I took a huge gulp that made my cheeks blow out as I swilled it around my mouth before I swallowed.

It burned a little.

White wine was not meant to be swilled by the mouthful. Little sips, maybe, but not huge, gaping mouthfuls that were warm.

I stuck out my tongue with a, “Blech!”

Warm wine was not your friend. Or mine. Or anyones.

Preston rejoined me on the back porch, pizza boxes in hand. “You wanna eat these on the swing?”

“Do I want your pineapple to accidentally end up on my pizza? No.” I took the top box from him and moved toward the outdoor table that was the other side of the porch.

“That’s the pineapple one.”

I dropped that pizza box on the table so hard it was like I was shocked by lightning.

He laughed and set the other box down. “Kidding. This is mine.”

I glared at him. Defiling my pizza was one step too far. “You owe me for this at this point.”

“Because you dropped your own pizza?”

“No, because there’s fruit on your pizza.” It was the only excuse I had right now. “Also, are your backpack sandwiches still edible? Google says it’s the wrong season for Betty to be pregnant, but if you feed her a stale sandwich, I will be furious.”

Preston choked with the slice firmly in his mouth. Two pieces of pineapple fell off into the box, vindicating me a little. “Why don’t you eat a sandwich and find out?”

“Because I don’t run a Subway store,” I retorted. “You made the sandwiches. Fix it.”

“I’ve dated many people. I never thought I’d date raccoons, too.”

“Welcome to Halley Dawson’s residence. Some people come with crazy exes. Some have kids. Some have credit card debt. I have sandwich lovin’ raccoons.” I grinned and tore a bite off the slice of pizza I was holding.

“It could be worse. At least raccoons can’t send threatening text messages.”

“Exactly.” I half-smiled. “Now, have you checked your sandwiches?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN – PRESTON

Raccoons Love Pizza

Darkness fell swiftly.

It happened somewhere between my story about prom where the prom queen got punch thrown on her and Halley’s tale about the time Ava met a guy she’d flirted with online and he’d been a total catfish.

Now we were on the swing, having talked for hours. The pizza boxes were discarded on the table, and so was one bottle of wine and three empty beer cans.

I was in my spare room, if you believed her.

I did, for what it was worth. If she wanted me in the spare room, I’d take it. I’d learned so much from her tonight. She’d opened up to me in ways I’d never imagined.

She’d gotten personal somewhere between the pineapple pizza shaming.

I liked her more than ever. She was so fucking real. Seeing her in her own environment was a breath of fresh air. She was so comfortable here.

I’d wanted to kiss her at least ten times, but there was a brightness to her blue eyes when she looked out at the forest that lined her yard. There was a love there that I was sure I would never entirely understand, but it was her love.

It was a part of her.

And I wanted her.

All of her.

A shuffling came from beneath the porch. I froze, but Halley smiled.

No. It was beyond a smile. It was a fucking beam, the kind of smile that lit up every single one of her features.

She got up from her chair and looked at me. She pressed one finger against her red lips and whispered, “Can you get those sandwiches and put some in the bowl there?”

Dusk was well upon us, and it was honestly earlier than I’d expected the raccoons to come out, but I nodded and slipped inside.

My backpack was on the coffee table, and I grabbed one of the airtight sandwich bags. I checked it before I went outside, but the bread was still soft, so I took it to Halley.

“Can you put it in the right bowl?” she whispered. “I think it’s Betty.”

I had no idea how my life had come to this.

Yet here I was.

Depositing pre-made peanut butter sandwiches into a steel bowl.

I did as she asked and backed up to the corner.

It was so fucking weird, but I wanted to watch her. I wanted to see how she interacted with these wild animals. It was so important to her, so individual to her, that I knew it was my only chance to witness it.

I wanted to understand her.

I wanted to understand her connection to this animal.

Betty seemed to be the key.

There was a scuffle, and Halley sat on the top porch step. She made a clicking sound with her tongue, and I gripped the porch rail from my position in the corner.

Visibility was, low, but I watched as a dark creature made its way up the steps.

“Hey, Betty,” Halley said in a quiet voice. “Where’s Boris? Did you kick his ass?”

Betty stopped halfway up the steps. She looked at Halley before she darted forward and took sandwiches from the bowl. My eyebrows shot up as she padded back to Halley and sat next to her.

Halley reached over and ran her hand over Betty’s head. “You got late babies, huh?” she whispered. “You under my porch, pretty girl?”

Betty stayed perfectly still as Halley lavished love on her, scratching her little head and back.

“I’ll tuck you sandwiches in there, okay?” Halley leaned into her.

It was almost as if she’d totally forgotten I was there, watching her. She was hyper-focused on this raccoon that may or may not have been pregnant. Her love for it was something special.

It was fucking inspiring.

Betty ducked her head out of Halley’s grip and trotted down the steps. She slipped to the left and darted into the darkness beneath the porch before Halley had a chance to catch up with her.

“Damn it.” Halley trudged back up to the table. “She’s a pain in my ass.”

My lips pulled to the side. It was so weird to see her pay so much attention to a wild animal, but there was something in the way she handled it all.

It was so genuine.

She cared.

She really, really cared. In a way few people cared about things. It was a deep-rooted, consuming need to protect Betty the raccoon, and it only made her more attractive.

She sat back down on the chair and cupped her wine glass. “She’s definitely pregnant. She only goes under my porch when she’s having babies. This is late, though. I need to keep an eye on her.”

Her eyes shone with love. It was a weird thing to see, just how much she cared for them. I think I could have sat here and watched her interact and over and over and never find myself bored with what she does.

“You might be the nicest person I’ve ever met,” I said, eying her. “You care about so many people in so many ways.”

Halley finished what was left in her wine glass with one tip of the glass. “That doesn’t make me perfect,” she said softly. “You say all these nice things about me, and I get that it makes me look like this amazing person, but—”

“But nothing.” I stood and grabbed her wrist, pulling her up with me. “Tell me the five worst things about yourself, then, and balance it out.”

“In total?”

“In total,” I confirmed. “Tell me all the things you’d tell someone you were trying to convince not to date you, and I bet I’ll still want to date you after it.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Weird grows on you.” I grinned.

She rolled her blue eyes. “Can we sit down while I do this?” She didn’t wait for me to reply before she went back to her swing and sat on one end.

I went with her and took a seat.

“Okay. Hmm. Obviously, I can’t cook. I have a really hot temper that sometimes leads to overreacting. I occasionally open my mouth before my brain kicks in. I’m really good at ignoring people when I read and can do it for hours. And, uh…” She frowned. “Wow. This is hard. I literally just made up the book one as a bad thing to round it out.”

I laughed.

“Oh!” She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “I am notoriously competitive.”

“No, really?” My lips twitched. “I didn’t notice. Ever.”

She flipped me the bird. “Your turn. Tell me the worst five things about you.”

“There aren’t any.”

“Well, there’s number one.”

I snorted. “Okay. Shit. Um. I think before I speak, like you. I constantly look at anyone who has an interest in me like they’re only interested because of my family’s money. I’ve never mopped the floors in my apartment. I judge people too quickly. And… You’re right. This is hard.”

She nodded slowly. “Question.”

“Shoot.”

“If you constantly think people who are interested in you only want your family’s money, what’s so different about me?”

My grin was lopsided. “Because your dad is rich as balls.”

Halley choked on her laughter. “So rich he owns this house outright and makes me pay rent!”

“No. Really?”

“Yep. Says it’s his job to make me a well-rounded person.” She lifted her hands and did the birdie thing with her fingers when she said, ‘well-rounded.’

“It’s working, for what it’s worth.”

“I know. It’s really annoying.”

I laughed and rested my arm along the back of the swing. I was about to open my mouth to say something when there was a shuffle by the porch steps that drew my attention.

Halley leaned over. “Hey, Boris.”

Three raccoons sat the bottom of the steps, looking up expectantly. One of them was significantly bigger than the others, and I glanced at my rucksack.

“Sandwich time?”

She nodded. “Put them all out. Boris is greedy.”

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

I got up and retrieved the rest of the sandwiches from my backpack. Carefully, I unpacked them and set them in the metal bowl that was built-in to the porch. I’d barely put the last one down when the three animals all rushed me, almost tripping me up.

Halley rolled her eyes. “So greedy.”

I laughed and sat back down, giving the swing a push with my foot. “Can you believe the booth is over tomorrow?”

“No. It doesn’t seem like it’s been a week.” She paused. “I will be glad to get back to my normal life, though.”

“I’ll be glad to not have to kiss like fifty people every single day. And not have anyone try to touch my cock.”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far. Lindsay has been actively trying to get in your pants for years.”

“And she never will.”

“Amen to that.”

I grinned and slid across the swing to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. We sat like that for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word. The raccoons were noisy little bastards, eating and squeaking at each other, but there was something so peaceful about the moment.

It felt like that turning point. The one where I admitted that I didn’t just have a crush on Halley. I wasn’t just attracted to her anymore.

I had real feelings for her.

It was strange to think that we’d both had a crush on the other and never done anything about it. Now, it was all different. Tonight alone I’d learned more about her than I had in years.

I wanted to know even more.

“Does this count as the second date?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

Halley paused for a moment. “I think so. Why? Are you already considering a third?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“Are the raccoons too much?”

I glanced over at Boris who’d made himself comfortable on one of the chairs and was lying spread-eagle on it. Turning to Halley, I took her chin in my hand and smiled. “No. I’m thinking that a third date just delays the inevitable.”

“Which is?”

“Us actually dating for real.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ten days ago we could barely stand to be around each other, and now you’re proposing we be in a real relationship?”

“Does it matter? I know I have feelings for you, Halley. I know what I want.”

She blushed, dipping her head slightly, but she didn’t take her eyes from mine. “Are you seriously asking me out when we still have one entire day of kissing other people to get through?”

Shit. “You’re right. I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“You do that.” Her lips twitched. “Doesn’t mean I’ll say yes.”

“You’ll say yes. I’ll bug you every day until you do.”

“That’s how you get a restraining order, not a girlfriend.”

“You won’t get a restraining order on me. I’ll set Aunt Bethel on you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Jesus, she’s going to be here tomorrow with my grandma, isn’t she? To judge the talent show?”

I nodded, grimacing. My Great Aunt Bethel was… special. She was a real character. With blue hair and a penchant for loud muumuus and jingly bracelets on her wrists.

She was also eighty-eight and believed her age gave her the God-given right to say whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

“I am so not ready for this,” Halley muttered.

“It will be fun when she sees that I’ve beaten you, though.”

She shot me a withering look. “In your dreams. I’m winning tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.” I tapped her nose.

She reached up and returned the gesture. “I’m not a cat. Don’t boop me.”

I grinned and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her toward me and kissing her. Her lips were soft, and she leaned into me as I held my mouth against hers for a long second.

Yep.

The feelings were very, very real.

CHAPTER TWENTY – HALLEY

Age Is Just A Number

“Grandma, that outfit is not acceptable for the talent show.”

Grandma looked down at the sequin-covered minidress she was wearing. “Why not? I think I look like a sparkly flapper.”

“Because it’s see-through and you’re not wearing a bra!” I grabbed the towel from Abigail and threw it at her. “You have to put your nipples away!”

Grandma huffed and tossed the towel away. “These are what the kids are wearing these days!”

“I knew that Hulu subscription was a bad idea,” Abigail muttered, retrieving her towel. “Too many reality shows.”

I could have told her that.

In fact, I had told her.

Three times.

Nobody listened.

“You can’t wear that dress in public,” I said, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge. “There are children around. You’ll scar them for life! You’re scarring me, for goodness sake.”

Grandma looked down and pursed her dark-red lips. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. What if I wear a bra?”

Abigail looked at me. That did solve the problem, didn’t it?

Damn it. She was going to get her own way. That was never a good thing—she was like a child. If you gave her an inch, she’d take ten miles, and she’d repeat her behavior over and over.

“It’s too short,” I said firmly. I wasn’t going to back down. “Everyone will see what you ate for lunch if you bend over.”

“I won’t bend over.”

“Grandma, no.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not arguing with you. I’ve said you can’t wear it and that’s final.”

She sniffed. “You don’t see me for six months, and this is the way I’m treated. You young’uns have no respect for your elders these days!”

“You wearing that dress would be disrespectful. Trust me on that.”

She frowned and narrowed her eyes at me. She jabbed a finger in my direction, her French-tipped nail flashing through the air. “No respect, I tell you! This dress is a masterpiece! Everyone should see it!” She turned with a flourish, flicking some of her shoulder-length white hair. “You’re ruining my life, Halley!”

The sound of her stomping up the stairs filled the air, and Abigail rolled her eyes.

“She’s been in that mood ever since she got here yesterday evening.” She turned on the hot tap to fill the sink. “She tried calling you eight times to see if you’d take her to get her hair done today, but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh. That explains the missed calls from the unknown number. Did she change it again?”

“Every time she breaks up with someone, and considering she only goes out with them once…”

My grandmother was hard work.

“Why didn’t you answer, anyway? She had theories about everything from you being sex trafficked to you breaking into the White House.”

“How would I get to the White House on short notice?”

“I don’t know. What were you doing? You always answer the phone.”

“Oh. Um, I was busy.”

“I guessed that. Doing what?” My stepmom turned and raised one eyebrow.

Damn it. That look always got me, and she knew it.

I cleared my throat. “I had a date.”

“You had a—oh! Were you with Preston? Mandy said she saw you two at the fair the other night after the booth closed and you had a raccoon with you. That’s how I knew she was telling the truth.” She smirked.

“Yeah. We went out.” I scratched the side of my neck. “He made Betty and everyone sandwiches, so we ended up getting pizza, too.”

“And the booth ends today?”

I nodded.

“What will you do after?”

“I’m honestly just trying to get through today. It feels weird kissing other people when I know I have strong feelings for him, you know?”

Both her eyebrows shot up. “Are you telling me that you’ll give up the kissing booth?”

I hesitated. I hadn’t actually thought about it since everything with Preston, but I’d always assumed that one day when I got into a serious relationship that I would.

Besides, there was always the chance I wouldn’t have a choice. The champion was the only contestant allowed to return, but when they got beaten, they couldn’t go back the next year. It was so there was always someone new in the booth.

It’d briefly crossed my mind that Preston would be the one to dethrone me, but I’d never imagined it would go like this.

“I guess so,” I replied after a long moment. “I mean, if anyone is going to beat me, it’ll be Preston anyway.”

“You’re probably right there.” She smiled warmly. “What are you doing today? Did I see Lauren at the fair yesterday?”

I nodded. “She came down with her boyfriend. We’re having dinner with Reagan and Ava tonight, before the announcement and the talent show.”

“I’ll see her there, then.” Abigail reached up and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Don’t you need to get to the booth? I’ll make sure your grandmother doesn’t show up looking like a Barbie doll.”

“Good luck with that,” I said dryly. “I’ll see you later.” I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shouted, “See you later, Grandma!”

“See you later, sugar!” she hollered back.

The woman had lost her mind. I was pretty sure of that.

I took a deep breath and headed outside. It was overcast today, and I glanced up at the sky with a silent prayer that it wouldn’t rain. The talent show stage wasn’t covered, and I knew one of the acts played with fire.

Literal fire.

It was a bit extra for a small-town fair, but whatever tickled people’s pickles.

I made it to the kissing booth with only a few minutes to spare. I was hot and sticky when I slipped through into the tent, and the first thing that hit me was the overwhelming scent of a meatball sub.

“Nice of you to join me.” Preston grinned at me from the edge of the stage where he was sitting. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Ugh, don’t. Abigail called me, and I had to run to my dad’s because my grandma is having some kind of late in life crisis.” I swung my purse off my shoulder and pulled off my glasses since they were all misted up. “She’s wearing clothing entirely inappropriate for her age. Anyone’s age, really.”

“Aunt Bethel tried to leave the house in a crop top according to my mom,” Preston replied. “So it’s either a coincidence or they’re cooking something up together.”

“Nothing with them is ever a coincidence. Don’t you remember two years ago when they sent half the town on a scavenger hunt, but the only thing we found was Bethel’s teeth?”

He shuddered. “That’s because that’s what she wanted. I still don’t know how they ended up in the men’s bathroom in Lucky’s, though.”

“I think she went into the wrong bathroom and took them out, then got distracted and left them behind.”

“That’s the most logical explanation. And the likely one.” He stood up and walked over to me, pulling me into his body.

It was a little strange to have his arms so casually around me, but I fit against his body just right. He was just tall enough that he could rest his chin on top of my head. I circled his waist with my arms and savored the feeling for several seconds.

“All right, let’s do this. I only have a few hours to kick your ass.” I pulled away from him, grinning. “And I’m going to.”

He shook his head slowly, backing up. “Never in a million years. You’re going down, and you know it.”

I used two fingers and pointed them at my own eyes, then at him, in the universal sign for ‘I’m watching you.’ Then, I hopped up onto the stage and grabbed my lipstick from my purse.

Less than a minute later, I was ready for the final day.

“Hold on.”

The gaudy curtain between us moved to the side, and Preston stepped through.

“I forgot to tell you something.”

I frowned. “What?”

“This.” He grabbed my face with two hands and smacked a huge kiss against my lips.

It was so unexpected that not only did my heart jolt into a faster beat, but I was knocked off balance when he released me. He had a self-satisfied grin on his face that was so annoyingly sexy, desire fizzled through me for a brief second.

“I’m putting that on my tally!” I shouted through the curtain. “I’m already beating your ass!”

He laughed, the deep sound filling the entire tent, and I marked down the damn kiss on my board.

“Here.”

I turned. His arm was sticking on my side of the booth, and he was holding a one-dollar bill.

“Is that all I’m worth?”

“You never gave my fifty back the other day. I think fifty-one bucks is an adequate price for a kiss.”

Shit. He was right. I didn’t.

“It’s all for a good cause,” I trilled, taking the note from him right as the curtains were opened. “Thank you for your generosity, sir.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Yep!”

***

Bethel Wright’s style was… eclectic.

Take today, for example. Today, her bright blue hair was pulled into two buns on the top of her head—think cat-ear placement, not Princess Leia’s dinner plates over her ears—and she had a vibrant red scarf tied around her head. Her muumuu was a delightful shade of holy-shit-that’s-yellow, and the bright pink hibiscus flowers were borderline offensive.

And that was all before you considered the rainbow-hued marching band on each arm.

Her bangles.

She’d somehow hijacked our girls’ dinner, and so had my grandma. Who, thankfully, was not wearing the glittery number from this morning. Not that the vibrant purple fifties-style dress she was wearing now was much better, but at least I didn’t have to see her nipples every time I looked at her.

I’d take the wins where I could.

“What to eat, hmm?” Bethel scanned the menu.

“The whole damn thing, judging by the weight you’ve put on since last year,” Grandma retorted.

Ava choked on her water. Lauren leaned over and patted her back with a grimace on her face.

“Grandma,” I said sharply.

“Don’t Grandma me like that. Bethel knows she’s chunky now.”

Reagan looked around in horror before pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I can lose weight, Margaret. You can’t lose your bitchy attitude.” Bethel didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Aunt Bethel!” Reagan hissed.

“Are they always like this?” Lauren asked me quietly.

I nodded. “Anyway. Tell us about Mason. He was the guy you pretended to date, right?”

“Yep.” She grinned, her entire face lighting up. “My friends talked me into putting this stupid ad online when we’d been drinking, and Mason’s sister set it up. It was only supposed to be his high school reunion to piss off his ex, but then his sister told his mom it was real. I ended up having to do a couple more dates, but somewhere along the way, we kinda fell for each other, and yeah. Here we are.” She shrugged, but her smile still played on her lips.

Ava sighed. “That’s so romantic.”

“I fake-dated a guy once,” Grandma said. “But he was loaded, and all I had to do was suck his toes a few times, and he bought me whatever I wanted.”

I blinked at her. “You didn’t fake date anyone. We all know that was Grandpa. We’ve all heard the stories.”

Bethel nodded in regret. “He was the only man who was dumb enough to let this gold-digger suck his toes.”

Reagan cleared her through. “So. Preston. What’s going on?”

After quickly filling Lauren in on what happened before she arrived in town, I told them about our conversation last night and what he’d said.

“So he’s serious?” Ava asked, leaning forward. “You guys aren’t just going to bang a few times and break up?”

“Ava!” I squealed.

Lauren laughed.

Reagan smirked. “She’s pissed because she’s gonna owe me more money. Like she will tonight when your dad announces that Preston beat you.”

I rolled my eyes at them. “You two are ridiculous. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. It feels like it’s too soon, but we have crushed on each other for a few years, so maybe it’s not. I don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Lauren said, putting down her menu. “Maybe just spending time together is all you need to do, like you did last night. If it’s meant to be, it’ll all work out.”

“She’s right,” Ava said with another sigh. “Even if I do have to give Reagan all my money.”

“Don’t make bets with me, then. I’ve told you that.” Reagan reached up and tied her purple curls into a low pony. “I just want to see if he actually threw our queen here off her throne.”

“So do I,” I replied. “I’ll also be glad when I no longer have to listen to him kissing other women.”

Ava grinned. “There’s the jealous streak I always knew was in there.”

“It’s not a jealous streak, it’s a…” I trailed off. I had no other answer for it.

“Possessive one.” Lauren winked at me.

I tried not to smile. That wasn’t a line I was going to use, because both Reagan and Ava would constantly remind me of it. Instead, I left it at that and used the well-timed distraction from the waitress to put an end to the conversation.

I hadn’t had a chance to think about what I wanted to do all day. I knew deep down that I was probably ready to end the kissing booth and pass it on to someone else anyway.

The problem was, in none of the scenarios I’d imagined did Preston exist.

I’d insisted for so long that he and I would never happen. I’d been adamant about it to the fact I was probably over-denying it at points, and I think I’d been trying to convince myself.

Now, it was happening.

It was possible. The guy I’d crushed on for years liked me back, and there was something beyond just attraction now. I felt it in the quiet moments when we were together.

Like last night when we were sat on the porch swing.

His arm was around me, and I’d just…sighed inside. It felt right and it felt real, and it felt like it was something special.

It didn’t hurt that I felt his kisses everywhere.

And I mean absolutely everywhere.

Now, I just had to figure out what to do about it all and how quickly I wanted to take things.

Still, I had a feeling that everything would be all right in the end.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - HALLEY

I Told You So

“Get a load of those abs!” Grandma hooted and hollered as the ripped and shirtless fire-eating guy danced across the stage.

I winced every single time he moved with those fiery sticks.

The stage was wooden.

I had no idea who thought it was a good idea to send that guy up there.

“Hubba hubba!” Bethel fanned herself with a bright orange hand fan, waving it like she was some heroine straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

“They’re getting a little carried away, aren’t they?” Preston whispered in my ear.

I nodded. We were sitting just off to the side of the judge’s table—although biased spectators were probably true for two-thirds of the panel, after the hot fire guy—waiting to be called up with Dad and find out who won.

“When are we up there? I need to know when I can get out of here. Lindsay has accidentally bumped into me three times already,” Preston muttered.

I snorted. “One more act, then he’ll call us up and announce how much we raised, then who won.”

“You know I’m taking your crown.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you take it, you take it, don’t you? That’s part of the fun. And honestly, I’d be glad to not do it next year.”

“Do you have to defend the crown?”

“No. You can choose to not do it, but if I lose, I can’t do it next year anyway. It’s in the rules.”

“You know if I win, I won’t defend it, right?” He met my eyes. “I only did this as a favor to your dad—and I wanted to beat you. I haven’t taken any pleasure in kissing all these people this week. I’m not sure my lips will ever recover.”

“They won’t.” I tugged mine to one side. “But I don’t think I’ll come back, either.” I cast my gaze over the stage where three young girls were performing a cheer routine. “I think it’s time to let someone else take over. Maybe it needs an overhaul to allow more people to compete. I think people would love it.”

“You’re probably right. Plus, you’ll be too busy kissing me to kiss anyone else.” He winked at me.

“You’re super confident about that, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” The grin on his face was so playful I had no option but to smile right back at him.

Dad stood and motioned for us to follow him. We waited at the side until he was on the stage with the mic in his hand. “Hello, everyone! Thank you for coming to the Creek Falls Fair Talent Contest! I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening so far, and never fear; there are plenty more entertaining acts to come. Until then, we are taking a short break to announce the results of our annual Kissing Booth contest.

“For those of you who don’t know, we have a kissing booth each year, and all proceeds go to charity. Two people compete against each other for the chance to be the champion. I’d like to introduce our competitors this year: Halley Dawson, the reigning, defending champion, and her challenger, Preston Wright!”

Slightly dramatic there, Dad.

Applause rang out, and we both approached the stage with a smile and waved at everyone. Preston stood on the other side of my dad.

“Thank you to everyone who participated in the challenge this year. I’m thrilled to announce that the total raised to revamp the playground in the park is one thousand, two hundred and seventeen dollars!”

My eyes went wide.

Holy crap. We’d never raised that amount of money before, and even though it usually went to charity, the playground really did need redoing. It would be amazing for the kids in town.

“Yes, wonderful!” Dad said. “And now, for the contest winner…”

I shared a look with Preston. I knew exactly what my dad was about to say, and I had to hide my smile.

“The new kissing booth champion is… Preston!”

I laughed, turning toward him and clapping. He looked genuinely shocked, as if he’d thought I’d won, but I wasn’t surprised at all. I think I’d known from the second I found out he was my competition that he was going to win.

He was new and shiny, and half the women in town wanted to marry him, so…

Dad handed Preston the microphone and shoved him into the middle of the stage. He joined me, then, off to the side, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“You get a year off then, Halley,” Dad said into my ear.

Laughing, I said, “I think it’s time to pass it on to someone else anyway. I think I’d still like to be involved with the booth—I think it would do well if it was overhauled for next year.”

He nodded. “I agree. Now, let’s see what Preston has to say.”

Preston looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but up on that stage, talking in front of everyone else. Still, he took a step forward and cleared his throat.

The mic screeched. He jumped back, staring at it like it’d punched him.

I hid a laugh behind my hand.

“Uh, hello?” he said, giving the mic a tap to make sure it didn’t screech again. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here, but I wanted to thank everyone for coming out to the kissing booth and seeing both myself and Halley. It’s been a long week, but I know I speak for us both when I say it was worth it. The playground is overdue to be updated, and this is going to make a huge difference to the kids in town. So, thank you.”

He paused while people clapped.

“I’d also like to thank Halley for being great competition.” He swept his arm toward me. “But I am happy to take that crown off her, so you guys can finally kiss someone else next year.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, but I was laughing.

“And on that topic: I won’t be defending next year. You’ll have two new competitors.”

Dad looked at me. “Why isn’t he defending?”

Preston beat him to it. “I’ve learned a lot over the last week or so, but the most important thing I’ve learned is that there’s only one person I want to kiss, and she’s standing right over there.”

My eyes widened as he pointed at me.

“And don’t worry, despite the look of terror on her face, she does already know this.”

My dad smiled, nudging me in the back to push me forward.

“What are you doing?” I mouthed Preston.

“Kiss her!” Someone that sounded an awful lot like Reagan shouted from the crowd.

I was going to kill her.

“Yeah, kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” That was my grandmother who was now standing on the judge’s table.

And she’d started a chant.

Oh, my God.

The entire crowd was joining in. It got louder and louder until almost everyone was doing it. My cheeks flamed red hot, and I looked at my sandal-clad feet on the stage instead of anywhere else.

Preston’s hand slid around to the back of my neck, and he dipped his head. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

He laughed, bringing our bodies fully together. “At least they won’t gossip now.”

And then he kissed me.

Just once. A single touch, but one that meant so much. It warmed my entire body, consuming me until I was barely aware of anything other than him.

I had tingles all over my skin where he touched me, and I knew.

I was teetering on the edge of falling in love with Preston Wright.

There was no going back from it, not now. It all felt completely right, even though there was whooping and hollering from people who loved a show.

He released me with a wide smile. His eyes shone with something I couldn’t place, an emotion that I knew was genuine all the same. “Whoops?”

“Whoops my ass!” I laughed and leaned into him when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, nestling me against him.

“Is this where I drop the mic?” he whispered into my ear.

“Metaphorically. My dad probably won’t like it if you actually drop it.”

His chuckle made his whole body tremble, and he turned and held it out in the direction of my dad. “I just realized I kissed you in front of your dad.”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand.

Dad approached us with a stern look on his face. “And what on Earth was that?”

I could see the glint in his eye that said he was messing with Preston, but he went as rigid as a board next to me.

“I, uh, sir—”

Dad burst out laughing and yanked him over, hugging him. He patted him on the back twice before letting him go. “Go on, you two. I’m not surprised at all. We need to get the talent show back on.”

“Sure.” Preston tucked me back under his arm.

“Tell Grandma I’m going to kill her,” were my parting words to my dad.

He laughed, and Preston swept me off the stage and around the back. The crowd watching the talent show had calmed down, and there were so many people there that the food stalls were all but empty.

We detoured quickly and grabbed a couple of hot dogs before we made it back to the booth. It was silent, and we ducked inside the tent together.

“That was dramatic,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the stage.

Preston dropped to the floor in front of me with a laugh. “I’m not gonna lie, I did that in the hope Lindsay would leave me alone now.”

“I knew there was an ulterior motive for it.”

“Only a little one.”

I pursed my lips. “I can’t believe you beat me.”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. “It was never in doubt.”

“Liar. You looked really shocked up there.”

“All right, I was. I really thought you were going to keep your streak going for another year.”

“Five would have been nice. What would have been nicer is being able to hold it over your head like you’re going to do to me, though.”

“Me? What gives you that idea?”

“The big shit-eating grin on your face,” I replied. “At least your sister is richer for it.”

“She bet on me, didn’t she?”

I nodded. “Ava’s going to be furious.”

“Ava’s always furious about something. It’s basically her default emotion, like Reagan’s is, well, she doesn’t have emotions. She’s basically a walking, talking potato.”

I snorted, scrunching up the hot dog wrapper. I leaned back and looked around the tent. “It’ll be weird not being here next year.”

“I guess it will be for you. It’s been so long.”

“I’m looking forward to it, though. Maybe I’ll actually get to enjoy the fair more next year. Although I won’t miss the smell of this place.”

Preston wrinkled his face up. “It is pretty damn smelly. Maybe next year the kissing booth needs to raise money to replace the kissing booth.”

I laughed, falling down onto my back. I sighed it out, happy to just lie there and soak in the peace for a little longer.

Preston took the space next to me, looking up at the ceiling just like I was. “What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“This. Us. I’ve told you what I wanted. Hell, I showed the whole damn town.”

I rolled my head to the side and looked at him. Really looked at him, studying his handsome face. I picked up where his beard stubble was a little longer in one place, like he’d rushed while shaving. The tiny scar close to his hairline that was no bigger than a pimple. His thick eyebrows that were naturally better shaped than mine were, and his dark eyelashes that framed his stunning eyes.

“I know,” I said softly. “I just—we’re such different people, Preston. I’d made peace with the fact that we were never going to happen, and now it is, and I think I just need to stop telling myself it’s all going to go wrong.”

“It might go wrong,” he said honestly. “I fucked up literally an hour after our first date, so…”

I smiled. “Are you afraid it’s a little too fast?”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Halley. Hell, I’m not even telling you that you have to be my girlfriend. We can take it slow and see how it goes without putting any big labels on it.”

“But we’d be exclusive?”

“I can honestly say there isn’t anyone I’m even remotely interested in. Except for you.” He looked at me. “And maybe Betty. For a raccoon, she’s a bit of a MILF, isn’t she?”

I laughed, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. “I can take sharing affection with Betty.”

“I have to share with Boris.”

“Boris is a jerk. It’s when those babies come that you’ll be sharing affection.”

“Oh, God, are you going to take time off work?”

“No! Oh, my God!” I laughed all over again. Honestly, it was a miracle I didn’t have abs at this point. “The rescue just outside town has a vet they send out to keep an eye on her. A couple of years ago, one of their older babies got caught in a bear trap. We freed it, and we looked after it until it was recovered when we sent him back out to Betty. But, also, you’ve never seen how freakin’ cute raccoon babies are. They’re the fuzziest little things.”

“You’re getting overexcited, aren’t you?”

“Little bit.” I smiled, rolling onto my stomach. Accidentally, I rolled into Preston with an “Oomph.”

Instead of letting me go, he wrapped his arms tightly around me. I peered down at him, my lips curving.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just—this is weird, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” His eyes sparkled. “But I like weird.”

I dropped my lips onto his.

Yes, it’d only been a week. Yes, it was crazy, and it could all go wrong, but I wanted to take the risk.

More than anything, I was happy he wanted to take the risk with me.

Even if we were going to be the talk of the town for his little show.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – HALLEY

Boom Chicka Wow Wow

One Month Later

“Happy one-month anniversary!” Preston stood on my doorstep with a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

I blinked at him. “What—what are you doing?”

“Reagan told me it was our one-month anniversary. I told her she was fucking dumb, but she insisted that I come over here with wine and flowers.”

“You were right.”

“Of course I was right. Now let me in so nobody sees me standing here like a lovesick teenager.”

I rolled my eyes and moved so he could follow me into the house. “I do like flowers and wine, though.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t forget Betty.” He set the wine and flowers down on the kitchen table and swung his backpack off his shoulders. He swiftly produced a lunchbox full of peanut butter sandwiches and another plastic tub full of sliced watermelon.

I didn’t even know raccoons liked watermelon until Boris literally swiped mine from under my nose one evening when I was reading on the porch.

Ever since then, we’d been feeding them fruit, but the watermelon was the resounding favorite.

Even Betty accepted it being dropped down the hole into her nest under the porch.

She was getting lazy, but Preston was spoiling her.

For all his joking when we’d started dating, he was pretty much in love with her.

“She’s gonna love you. Boris will think you’re trying to steal his wife.” I took the flowers from the table over to the sink.

“I would steal her, but I don’t think she’d like my apartment.”

“I don’t like your apartment. There are too many people there.”

“Thanks.”

Laughing, I looked over my shoulder. “You know what I mean. Any time I’m there, it takes me ten minutes to get anywhere. There’s always someone who wants to ask me something or make suggestions about the new kissing booth. I’m not even thinking about it yet!”

Shortly after the fair was over, my dad had made good on what he’d said to me. He’d made me the Kissing Booth Co-Ordinator, a volunteer position on the fair’s committee, and word had quickly spread that I was going to overhaul the entire thing for next year.

Unfortunately, that meant that I couldn’t even buy bread without someone giving me the next big idea.

At least they were big ideas in their minds.

Not so much in mine.

“Nah, I know what you mean.” He walked around the table and came over to me, slipping his hands around my body. He hugged me from behind as I trimmed down the stems on some flowers. “You’re doing it wrong. Cut them at an angle.”

I held up the scissors. “You do it, then. You can arrange them for me, too.”

Preston sighed, taking the scissors after he released me. “I showed you how to do that one time, and now there’s no getting away from it.”

“Mm. It’s my mom’s birthday next week. I need some flowers.”

“I’ll arrange a nice one and send you the bill.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and pulled myself up onto the counter. “Has Bethel gone home yet?”

“Shit, I meant to call you this morning.” He peered at me from the side. “She’s decided she’s moving in with Mom and Dad. Something about getting old and needing to be looked after.”

“Wasn’t she doing fireball shots at that charity Magic Mike thing at the weekend?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p.’ “Apparently it takes her a week to get over hangovers at that age. Mom told her to stop drinking, and Aunt Bethel looked at like she’d run over a puppy.”

“On the bright side, Grandma refuses to live here now, so at least they’re not together all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s Aunt Bethel’s birthday in a couple of months, and she wants a big party. Which means your grandma will be back in town. As long as she doesn’t bring the glittery dress again. I think I’m still fucking scarred.”

Yep. It wasn’t just me and Abigail who’d experienced that.

Before Grandma had left, she’d insisted that Preston come for dinner at my dad’s. I wasn’t given a choice in the matter, and unbeknownst to us, she’d changed into the glittery number that showed her nipples.

“She won’t. I stole it.” I swung my legs, grinning. “It’s now safely where it belongs: a trash can.”

“She’s going to kill you.”

“I don’t really care.” I shrugged and looked over. He’d arranged the flowers in one of my favorite vases, and even though I didn’t know what half of them were, it was a stunning explosion of color. “That’s gorgeous.”

“So are you.” He came over and slipped between my legs to kiss me. “Did I tell you that your hair looks great today?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You did now.”

I dipped my head and kissed him a second time. Then a third, and a fourth, and again and again. The kiss became longer, our lips moving together in more sync than before. His tongue flicked against the seam of my mouth, and he took my lower lip between his teeth and nibbled at it, sending a bolt of lust through me.

Preston grabbed my hips, pulling me to the edge of the kitchen counter. My fingers had somehow clawed at his shirt, pulling it halfway up his back. I kept going as his tongue moved against mine and his cock pressed against me.

Heat flushed through me.

It’d been a month, and we’d never done more than kiss. He’d kept his promise that we’d go slow; that we’d figure it out one way or another.

We had. At least, I thought we had.

And now, I wanted more.

I was ready for more.

I already knew I was falling headfirst in love with him, if I wasn’t already there.

I yanked more at his shirt until it was under his arms.

“Halley?”

“Take it off,” I murmured against his lips. “I’m ready, Preston. I want more.”

He groaned as he raised his arms. I pulled his t-shirt up and over his head and tossed it on the floor. His skin was hot and smooth and tanned, and I ran my fingers over his shoulders as we kissed again.

His cock was getting harder and harder, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him totally against me. The zipper brushed against my clit since my dress was no barrier at all between us, and I jerked.

He smiled before it quickly dropped and he kissed me again. He probed my thighs with his fingers, working his hands up my legs until they were under my dress. Each squeeze sent jolts of want through me, and I responded by squirming against him.

It was all too clear to me that all he had to do was unzip his pants and move my panties to the side and—boom.

We’d be having sex.

A kitchen counter wasn’t the first place I thought we’d do it, but I was totally okay with this.

Preston kissed along my jaw, dragging his lips across my skin. He used his hands to part my legs further. My clit ached, and I pushed my hips further into him until I was literally balanced on the edge of the counter.

He kissed up my neck, flicking his tongue against my pulse point and making me shiver. “Really? Here?”

“Uh-huh,” I breathed, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “You wanna move?”

He swallowed, pulling back and looking me in the eyes. “Honestly, Halley, if I don’t fuck you right now, I’m going to explode.”

I dropped a hand and moved my panties to the side.

He glanced down and groaned, then took a step back. I ran my gaze over his lean, muscular body, over the dips and rivets of his stomach down to where he was undoing his jeans.

He popped the button, then slid both his pants and his boxers down to his feet. He shuffled forward and bent down, flipping up my dress so that I was exposed to him.

Then he buried his face between my legs.

I cried out. The sensation of his tongue moving over me, exploring every inch, teasing me, was so damn good. I never wanted him to stop as he licked and sucked me, bringing me to the absolute brink of orgasm.

I gripped his shoulders, and he pressed harder, right on my clit. The orgasm hit instantly, wracking my entire body with shudders and clenched muscles. It was a sudden release, one that had all of me on overdrive.

Preston wiped his mouth as he straightened, and a small smirk played on his lips. He grabbed his cock, then hesitated, his gaze seeking mine.

My breathing was thick and fast, and I nodded. Only once. It was all he needed to know that I trusted him, because he took my mouth with his one more time in a kiss that was fast and ferocious.

It was all passion and heart and tasted like desperation.

He reached between us and took his cock in his hand, moving closer to me. Anticipation tightened in my stomach, and as he pushed slowly into me, my nails dug into his skin.

It felt so good. My muscles clenched around him, but he kept moving until he was fully inside me. Sweat beaded on my back, and I moaned as he captured my mouth with his own.

We kissed like that, just for a moment, as my body got used to him being inside me. He moved after a moment, easing out and back in. Seconds passed as our bodies responded to the other, coming together until we found an easy rhythm that had my nails in Preston’s shoulders and his fingers digging hard into my hips.

He thrust into me, picking up his speed with each stroke of his cock. I trembled everywhere, yet I couldn’t relinquish my grip on him. I needed to keep hold of him to ground me as he moved, drawing my pleasure closer to the surface with each jerk of his hips.

Over and over he did it, pushing me further to the brink and dragging himself there, too.

Until it was too much.

And I couldn’t hold on any longer.

My whole body tightened, going rigid. I cried out, right as Preston groaned, burying himself deep inside me. His breath was hot as he dropped his head to my shoulder, his exhale dancing over my collarbone.

I sagged, finally relaxed, and dropped my hand behind me to hold me up.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed, loosening his hold on me.

I laughed, exhausted. “That about sums that up.”

“Shit.” He pushed himself up. He met my eyes with shining ones, and the smile that crossed his face flashed for only a second before he kissed me again.

Stepping back, he pulled out of me and reached for one of the clean towels on the side of my coffee table. I motioned with a tired finger for one, too, and he tossed one my way.

“Well, that was fun.” He grinned, cleaning himself off.

I hopped off the counter and stuffed the towel between my legs. “Yeah,” I sighed. “But now I have to disinfect the counter.”

“Doesn’t being an adult suck?”

I glanced back at the counter, then at him. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, naked except for the towel grasped around his dick and the pants around his ankles.

I smiled. “Eh. It was worth it.”

EPILOGUE – HALLEY

Dick Pics For Everyone

Two Months Later

“Look at it!” Reagan shoved her phone in my direction. “Look!”

“I don’t—” I dodged her enthusiastic shoving. “—want to!”

“I’ll look,” Ava said, leaning over. She grabbed the phone and tilted it in her direction. “Not bad. Good size. Length and girth. Probably a good handful.”

Oh, my God.

“You’re in a library!” I hissed. “You can’t go flaunting unwanted dick pics everywhere!”

“This wasn’t unwanted,” Reagan corrected me. “It was accidental. A wrong number dick pic.”

“I don’t care how it came to be in your possession. I don’t want to see it.” I took the book on the top of the stack on the cart and put it back on the shelf where it belonged. “Did you tell him he’d sent it to the wrong person?”

“Yes. I told him he got the wrong number, but he had a pretty nice dick, so it was okay.” She finally put her phone away and followed me.

“There’s no such thing as a nice dick,” I replied. “They’re all ugly. Even your brother’s.”

“La la la la la!” She put her fingers in her ears.

Ava snorted. “She had that coming.”

I nodded sharply. “I don’t get it. You don’t know the guy. He apologized, right?”

Reagan clicked her tongue. “Yep. I told him it was fine.”

“Reagan, that is not the correct response to a dick pic. Preston sent me one last week, and I told him to fuck off.” I put another book on the shelf and tidied a couple that were out of order. “Nobody likes dick pics.”

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” Ava said. “Didn’t you once ask for a dick pic when you were on that dating app?”

“Yeah, but they banned me.” Reagan paused. “To be honest, I asked because he looked like he had a small one, and those guys can be deceiving. Plus, this guy is really nice.”

“You’re still texting him?”

“Yeah. He thanked me for being cool about it because most girls wouldn’t be. I told him how to get a better angle and asked why he was sending it.”

“Oh, hell,” Ava muttered.

I didn’t know what to say to that. That could only happen to Reagan. Literally nobody else would ever do those things.

“So are you, like, friends now?” I asked, putting the now-empty cart off to the sided.

“No. I have no idea what his name is.” She examined her nails. “I didn’t give him mine, either. No idea what he looks like or who he is.”

I stared at her, and so did Ava.

“I know people think Halley is the weird one here, but you are really quite strange,” Ava said slowly, a furrow forming on her forehead.

“Hey!”

“Yeah, no, she’s right.” I raised my eyebrows. “So what are you going to do? Just keep texting this nameless, faceless, unknown man with the relatively nice dick until…”

“Until I get bored, I guess. That, or I have a one-night stand with him and recognize his cock.” She shrugged. “He’s a nice guy. We actually have a bit in common.”

We took the stairs in single file to avoid the teens heading up to the study section for the weekly chemistry study session.

“Hey,” Ava said brightly when we reached the bottom.

Me and Reagan stopped.

“What?” Reagan asked.

“Have you considered that we might know the guy whose penis that is?”

Reagan froze, her eyes going wide as reality sunk in. “No,” she said. “No, no, no, no. I’m not going to believe that. Ava, why would you do that to me?”

She shrugged, but her eyes were full of mischief. “It just occurred to me. I mean, who is he? Is he even legal? Is he young and hot? Or is he the limping janitor at the high school?”

Reagan looked like she was going to throw up.

I laughed and turned around. “I am so glad I didn’t look at that picture.”

“No, no, no,” Reagan muttered. “No!”

I met her eyes. “You’re just gonna have to ask him, aren’t you?”

“Fine. I’ll do it right now. He is not the limping janitor from the high school!” She pulled out her phone and tapped furiously on the screen. “There. Done.”

She showed us the screen and yep. It was there.

REAGAN: By the way, who the hell are you?

Thank you for reading KISS ME NOT! I hope you enjoyed reading Halley and Preston’s story.

If you’re interested in Reagan and her mystery dick pic sender, KISS ME TONIGHT, her story, releases on September 24 and is available for pre-order now! Read on for the blurb.

If you liked Lauren, you can read her story in THE ACCIDENTAL GIRLFRIEND, available now!

KISS ME TONIGHT

What do a wrong number text, a burning building, and a quirky florist have in common?

A hunky firefighter with an extra-large…hosepipe.

In hindsight, I never should have opened that text message. The last thing I needed first thing on a Monday was a picture of some stranger’s, um, eggplant, in my inbox.

I also should have replaced the batteries in my fire alarm, because my Friday night did not need to end with my apartment building going up in flames.

But it’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

I’m only lying in a hospital bed with more split ends than I’ve ever had, almost all my Earthly possessions have turned to ash, and apparently, they don’t serve wine to patients in this place.

But like I said, it’s fine.

Until he walks in.

The guy who saved my life. My hero. Noah Jacobs.

And the universe is amusing itself at my expense, because the dirty photo I woke up to on Monday?

It’s his.

COMING SEPTEMBER 24th! Pre-order now at www.emmahart.net/kiss-me-series

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.

She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.

Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.

Yes, really. She's that sarcastic.

You can find her online at:

www.emmahart.org
www.facebook.com/emmahartbooks
www.instagram.com/EmmaHartAuthor
www.pinterest.com/authoremmahart

Alternatively, you can join her reader group at http://bit.ly/EmmaHartsHartbreakers.

You can also get all things Emma to your email inbox by signing up for Emma Alerts*. www.emmahart.net/newsletter

*Emails sent for sales, new releases, pre-order availability, and cover reveals. Each cover reveal contains an exclusive excerpt.

BOOKS BY EMMA HART

Standalones:

Being Brooke

Catching Carly

Casanova

Mixed Up

Miss Fix-It

Miss Mechanic

The Upside to Being Single

The Hook-Up Experiment

The Dating Experiment

Four Day Fling

Best Served Cold

Tequila Tequila

Catastrophe Queen

The Roommate Agreement

The Accidental Girlfriend

Kiss Me Not

The Vegas Nights series:

Sin

Lust

Stripped series:

Stripped Bare

Stripped Down

The Burke Brothers:

Dirty Secret

Dirty Past

Dirty Lies

Dirty Tricks

Dirty Little Rendezvous

The Holly Woods Files:

Twisted Bond

Tangled Bond

Tethered Bond

Tied Bond

Twirled Bond

Burning Bond

Twined Bond

Tricky Bond

By His Game series:

Blindsided

Sidelined

Intercepted

Call series:

Late Call

Final Call

His Call

Wild series:

Wild Attraction

Wild Temptation

Wild Addiction

Wild: The Complete Series

The Game series:

The Love Game

Playing for Keeps

The Right Moves

Worth the Risk

Memories series:

Never Forget

Always Remember