Page 54 of Hometown Halftime

“Making sure you’re not disheveled, Kitten,” I tease, tracing the path again with open palms.

She barks out a laugh, swatting my hand away. “Nice try.”

She pushes off the tree and begins to walk, but then she looks over her shoulder.

“Next time, if you want to feel me up, buy me dinner first.”

I choke on my saliva.

“Damn it, Kinsey, you can’t say stuff like that and just walk away,” I say, catching up to her.

We start walking back toward the festival together, the distance closing between us step by step. The closer we get, the louder everything becomes again, but my head is still back there under the tree, stuck on the way she kissed me.

After a few steps, I glance down at her. She’s looking straight ahead, but there’s a faint pink across her cheeks that wasn’t there earlier, and the sight of it sends something warm through me.

I clear my throat. “I like kissing you.”

Kinsey slows slightly beside me, turning her head to look up at me, one eyebrow lifting. “Oh yeah?”

Her voice carries that familiar edge of teasing that I’ve come to like a little too much.

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging one shoulder. “We should practice more sometime.”

Her mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “Bold, Weston.”

“Nah, optimistic,” I correct as we walk back into the busy street.

Chapter twenty-four

Kinsey

Saturday night after Fall Fest, I went home and told myself that kissing Riley was just another moment of weakness. Completely trying to convince myself that maybe I can avoid it ever happening again by making sure we’re never alone together.

I’ve kissed men before. Plenty of them. Some good, some forgettable, one or two I wish I could scrub from my memory with industrial cleaner. But none of them were this good from the first time.

I try to work out a reason why it’s so different with him. Maybe he’s well practiced, or he’s just good at reading signals. Maybe it’s the fact that we probably shouldn’t be sucking face given the fact that we work together. I perk up at that thought. Yes, this is simply new and maybe a bit risqué.

That’s it, it’s like one of those forbidden, workplace romances I’ve read. It’s so hot because we run the risk of getting caught.

Sunday morning, I told myself the same thing while I made coffee. Again, on Sunday afternoon while I wiped down the bar at Gordy’s. And even Sunday night while I lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan turning slow circles above me.

Except I know it’s all a lie. A great big, silly lie to justify my attraction to Riley.

Because every time my brain goes quiet for more than ten seconds, I’m right back there under the tree at Fall Fest. Riley’s hand, warm at my waist and his mouth against mine, claiming me in a kiss like no other I’ve ever experienced. And I’ve never had a simple kiss make me contemplate reaching for my vibrator.

And now it’s Monday afternoon, which means I need to put on my game face. We have practice, and for the next two hours and thirteen minutes—according to the clock on my dashboard—I need to act completely unaffected.

I pull into the Cedar Falls High parking lot, and it’s almost empty. A couple of teachers’ cars still remain. One rusty pickup that belongs to the maintenance guy. The autumn sun hangs low enough to throw long shadows across the asphalt. I sit there for a second with my hands on the steering wheel.

I need to collect my thoughts and chill out. There's practice to run. I shove my car door open and grab my bag from the back seat. The walk to the field gives me enough time to convince myself I’m back in control.

Riley stands near midfield, sleeves pushed up, lining bright orange cones along the sideline. A mesh bag of rugby balls rests nearby.

He straightens when he hears the gate clatter behind me and glances over his shoulder. The moment he spots me, that easy, sweet smile I’ve grown to like more than I admit, spreads across his face.

“Hey, Coach,” he says.

I walk toward him, forcing my expression into something neutral.