by Emma Hart
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.”
“Whose 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 glass’s 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 it 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 anyone’s.
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 on 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 sandwic
hes 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, eyeing 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 at 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 had 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 tha
t 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.”