The Complete Kiss Me Series

by Emma Hart

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 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 it’s 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 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 he met 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 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 in the milk section at 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.”