My pulse performs cartwheels as our lips brush. I’m vaguely aware of my coffee spilling on the grass, but I’m too caught up in the moment to care. This berry-scented kiss is more reserved than the one Austin laid on me last night, less of a claim and more like an invitation. It draws me in.
I sigh as he cups my jaw and pulls away.
“Stay another night,” he whispers.
The carnal promise in his tone coaxes my nipples to a point. After last night’s debacle, I’m tempted to take him up on his offer of a do-over. But I already promised my time to someone else.
“I can’t,” I murmur, pressing my palm to his sun-warmed chest. “I told Hollywood I’d be home in time to help with dinner. Teagan’s bringing the kids.”
He breathes a heavy sigh. “I guess it wouldn’t be right to leave the pregnant woman high and dry.”
“No.” I chuckle. “It wouldn’t.”
He palms my upper arms, his expression thoughtful. A light, fluttery feeling I recognize as hope finds a perch in the center of my chest.
After the immature crap I pulled last night, the best man I’ve ever known still wants to kiss me. What’s more, I’m not just tolerating his touch; I’m basking in it, like the sun on my skin and the chorus of birdsong in the trees above us. It sounds contrived, but idyllic moments like these don’t just fall into my lap. I want to cherish this feeling before it inevitably slips through my fingers like sand.
“It’s still early,” Austin says. “I’m sure I’ve got some spare gloves lying around. Want to help me clean out the raspberry patch before I take you home?”
His heart thuds against my palm, still resting on his chest. For once, my stomach doesn’t feel like a tangle of indecision.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good.” The force of his gaze breaks over me like a wave, in contrast to his gentle grasp on my arms. I hold my breath and wait for him to tack another word onto the end of that sentence.
Call me a good girl... Please...
He steps back, placing us out of each other’s reach.
“I’ll go get those gloves,” he mumbles.
I plaster a smile onto my face as tendrils of disappointment encircle my throat like vines and squeeze.