going to expect a certain level of...intimacy between us.”
What? What? “But—”
“I’m not talking about sex,” he was quick to say. Really quick. “I just mean, you’re not very demonstrative as a rule. You don’t even hug Grace, but they’re going to expect you to hug your boyfriend. Hold hands. Kiss on the cheek at the very least.”
Which was all true, but she didn’t know what that had to do with...intimacy. Between them. Ahh. “Okay, so what’s your point?”
He cleared his throat, took another step toward her. Made the throat-clearing sound again. “We need to be able to do that without you blushing and me clearing my throat like an eighty-year-old with a cold.”
“And how do we do that?” she squeaked.
“You also can’t squeak.”
“Jacob.”
“Maybe we should give it a go a few times with no one else looking or paying attention. Just so we can get those nerves and weirdness out of the way.” Again he took a step toward her. She wanted to bolt. Run for the safety of her truck.
“I don’t think that’s possible.” But it was sensible, and that was the only thing that kept her rooted to her spot as he advanced. Maybe she could at least get over the squeaking or the blushing. Or the insane urge to run in the opposite direction for fear of making a fool out of herself.
But once he was close. Really close. Like she could reach out and touch him and vice versa close, giving it a go seemed like the worst possible idea ever thought up.
His hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like I’ve never touched your shoulder.”
“Well, not with, like...intimacy intentions!”
He chuckled at that. “Fake intimacy intentions.”
“Right. Well, they may be fake, but it’s still weird.”
“Suck it up because it’s about to get weirder.”
And it did, but probably not in the way he thought she meant. He merely brushed a kiss across her cheek. His arm never strayed from her shoulder; he didn’t linger. It was nothing, really, but her body did not seem to understand that at all. It heated from the inside out. It wanted to lean in. It wanted to press her mouth to his to see what that would be like.
Luckily she’d spent a lot of time making sure her mind ruled her body and not the other way around.
“Maybe we should try that again and this time you don’t act like I gave you an electric shock.”
Oh, God, again? She might spontaneously combust. “Maybe it’d be easier if I did it.” She’d be in control, of the cheek kiss and herself, so it wouldn’t be so...stupidly amazing.
“Okay.”
Jacob wasn’t that much taller than her, but she still had to kind of go on her toes to lean in while keeping herself far enough away so that their bodies weren’t touching. Because that might kill her.
He smelled like sawdust and popcorn, which shouldn’t be appealing but somehow was. How was this happening?
“I can’t.”
“Oh, just do it. I did it. You can do it.”
Well, true enough. If she thought about it like a competition. If he could do it, so could she. She certainly wouldn’t give Jacob any kind of upper hand.
No matter what kind of warped upper hand this was.
She leaned forward, balancing her hand on his shoulder as lightly as she could possibly manage, and quickly brushed her lips across his cheek. Enough to feel the stubble. Enough to feel and that was so bad. So very, very bad.
She swallowed, still kind of half standing on her tiptoes. Too close. Her mind told her she was way too close and it was time to step away, but for the first time in years, her body simply wasn’t listening.
Even in the dark she could make out his eyes on her face. Maybe even her mouth. No, he would not be looking there because—
With no warning, no preamble, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. A kiss. A real on-the-mouth kiss. Brief. Brief enough she couldn’t even react or reciprocate, and, oh, thank God for that.
He pulled away. “There. Now that’s out of the way. Good night.” And he stalked to the back door of the house.
And she...she was pretty sure she died.
* * *
JACOB STOOD IN the mudroom and scrubbed a hand over his face. He kept thinking if he scrubbed hard enough he could make some sense out of what had happened.
But he couldn’t. He rubbed a little harder, then gave his hair a quick tug. Nope. He’d still kissed Leah. On the mouth. He’d done that.
And he could pretend it had been to get over the jumpy nerves between them. He could maybe even, after a few hours, convince himself it was completely platonic. It was all about the fake relationship.
And nothing about the way her lips had felt on his skin, the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder, the smell of old house that lingered in her coat.
But he’d need a few hours to get there and to get the images from that damn movie out of his mind. Out of his imagination somehow tied up with Leah.
“Are you okay?”
Jacob laughed. He couldn’t help it. Just the weirdest damn night of his life. He looked up at Grace standing at the top of the stairs and knew he had to manage a way to not seem guilty. She might think he couldn’t lie, but she really didn’t have a clue.
“What were you two doing?”
“What?”
“I heard your truck pull up at least fifteen minutes ago. What were you doing?”
If she was teasing him, maybe it wouldn’t bother him, but she had that concerned big-sister look on her face and it blanketed all the uncertainty and weirdness and even the kind of giddy confusion.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? I’m worried.”
“We were talking. That’s it. Don’t make this into something I’m doing to hurt Leah. Because I’m helping her.”
Right. Because kissing her was a real big help.
“Jacob, I don’t know why you think I’m trying to hurt your feelings by being worried about you and Leah. I’m not saying you’re a jerk. I’m only saying Leah looks at you a certain wa—”
“Just don’t.” And he walked away. Because if he didn’t, he’d get angry, or worse, he’d want to know all the ways Leah looked at him. He’d had enough angry this
