Catching Fire (Hometown Heat 2)

He nods thoughtfully. “No one’s a hero or a victim, you’re just partners.”

“Yeah. And friends.” I glance to the left as I add beneath my breath, “Who like to kiss.”

“A lot,” he adds, wrapping his arms around me. “Glad we figured that out now before the trials and tribulations start.”

“But it was just pretend, right? Or…something like that?”

“Something like that,” he agrees. “I think it was just good advice. You don’t have to be able to see the future to know that life is hard sometimes. And that when it is, it’s nice to have someone strong and solid who cares about you sleeping next to you.”

“Yeah. That does sound nice. I wouldn’t know from personal experience, but…”

“Me, either. But maybe we will. Soon.” He holds my gaze in a way that makes me feel a little shy. A little uncertain.

And hopeful in a way I’ve never been before.

And then he kisses me, and the shyness vanishes in a wave of heat and longing. His lips tell me more secrets—confessing he’s hopeful, too, and that he finds me every bit as irresistible as I find him—and for the first time I don’t think about pulling away or slowing down. I’m tired of fear calling the shots. Especially fear that isn’t even mine.

Yes, my mother’s relationships with men were and continue to be awful, but mine haven’t been. I managed just fine with Eli. And didn’t I always tell myself I was alone because I was holding out for the right guy?

Well, now, it looks a hell of a lot like the right guy is here. Holding me close. Kissing me like he can’t get enough of my lips, my tongue, that way I feel pressed against him.

I wouldn’t just be a coward to shy away from this. I’d be a fool.

Long, delicious moments later, he pulls back with a sigh. “Two days isn’t enough. I wish I could kidnap you for the entire week.”

I tighten my arms around his waist, loving the way our bodies feel pressed together. “Yeah. It makes me wish I hadn’t already taken time off. But I’m out of vacation days, and I just paid for truck repairs that hit my bottom line pretty hard. So, I probably couldn’t afford a longer trip anyway.”

Mick’s jaw clenches and he looks a little uncomfortable.

I arch a brow. “What? You were hoping for a girlfriend with a more dependable vehicle?”

He laughs, but still a little uncomfortably. “Not at all. Love your truck, I just…I have a confession to make.”

“Okay,” I say, silently praying I’m not about to have all my optimistic thoughts proven wrong.

“You know how I said I majored in computer programming?” he asks, continuing when I nod. “Well, I chose the major because I’d already been designing apps for years. Even sold a few of them during high school.”

“Cool,” I say, not really surprised. Mick was valedictorian of our senior class and, if I remember correctly, won the science fair every year in junior high with some sort of computer thing or another. “But why is this making you weird? I already knew you were a nerd if that’s it.”

This time his laugh is the real thing. “I am not a nerd.”

“You are a nerd.” I grin up at him. “But a really hot one. And I like nerds. I always wished I were smart enough to be one, honestly.”

“You’re smart,” he scoffs. “Very smart.”

I shrug. “Street smart, but school wasn’t my thing. At least not high school. I did really well in my EMT courses, though.”

A spark lights in his eyes. “Sweet. So you’ll help me study if I decide to enroll?”

“Of course. Though I’m sure you won’t need my help, nerd.” My stomach growls again and I add, “Now spill whatever you’re trying to spill so we can go eat.”

“Let’s just go eat and I can tell you later.”

He starts to pull away, but I hug him close again and say, “No, tell me now. Or I’ll stress about it.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. No reason to stress. I just…” He exhales. “I designed an app for Naomi’s television show when I was seventeen. It worked so much better than what most companies were using at the time that within a few months, I had gigs to design several more.” He shrugs. “Then in college, my friend Andy and I designed a chat app that we sold for a solid chunk of cash, so…”

I frown. “You’re telling me you’re not as poor as I am. Is that it?”

“Stop it. You’re rich in every way that counts. Good friends, a job you love, an amazing guy who has a horrible crush on you.”

I roll my eyes even as my cheeks heat. I can’t remember the last time I blushed—at all—let alone multiple times in one afternoon. “You know what I mean.”