Kiss Me Not (Kiss Me 1)

“Hey, Halley.” I leaned back closer to the curtain.

“What?” she hissed back.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Not with you.”

“Why? You afraid you’ll lose?”

She snorted. “I don’t lose bets, Preston.”

“Then bet with me.”

“Ugh. Fine. What’s the deal?”

“I bet I’ll kiss more people than you today.”

“Done. How much?”

I smirked with a glance at my line. “Whoever loses has to line up on the other side of the booth and add another kiss to the winner’s tally.”

Silence.

“Halley?”

“Fine. You’re on. You’re going down, flower boy.”

I covered a laugh with a cough as Lindsay Rinna approached the stage for my first kiss of the day.

It didn’t matter if I did go down.

Either way, I’d kiss her by bedtime.

***

The soft, hot pretzels burned my hands through the thin napkins I’d been given to carry them. At five bucks apiece, you’d think they’d give you a paper plate at the very least.

Or two napkins.

I wasn’t fussy.

I shouldered my way into the tent. We’d finished the second session of the booth and were waiting for the third to start. I hadn’t eaten all day since my earlier break had been dedicated to helping my parents at their stall since Reagan had weaseled her way out of it this year.

I was starving. I was tired, I was hungry, and I needed a goddamn beer.

I also needed a chapstick.

If anyone ever thought kissing a bunch of women was a dream come true, I had a disappointing dose of reality for them.

All it’d given me was chapped lips and a case of sexual frustration.

“Here.”

Halley looked up from her phone, her eyes widening when she caught a glimpse of me. “Is that for me?”

“Nah, I’m eating them both. I’m just holding one out to you to tease you.”

She pursed her red lips, her gaze darkening ever so slightly. “You’re hard work, Preston.”

I shrugged, shooting her a half-grin. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Thanks.” She put down her phone and took the pretzel from me. “Ouch. Crap, you’re right.” She immediately laid it on her lap and licked her fingers. “Aren’t they doing paper plates anymore?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll have to talk to my father.”

“You sound like Draco Malfoy when you say that?”

She’d just ripped a bit of pretzel off when she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Wrong. If I sounded like Malfoy, I’d have told you that my father would hear about it. I just said I’d talk to him.”

“Perks of being the mayor’s daughter, right?”

“Hardly. He’s never listened to my suggestions.” She shrugs. “Neither does anyone else, to be honest, even when they really should.”

“Like what?”

“Like when I tell my mom that three marriages are more than enough for anyone and she doesn’t need a fourth.” She paused for a moment. “I think she just likes the weddings.”

“She gets to be a princess and be the center of attention. Don’t most women love that?”

The shudder that wracked her body told me that Halley was not most women.

“No, thank you. I can’t think of anything worse than being the center of attention for an entire day just because I fell in love with someone.”

“You’re the center of attention during the fair every year.”

“Wrong. I’m a mild sideline attraction, and it’s all for charity. That’s different. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it to help other people. This booth has raised a thousand dollars for the last four years because people pay more than a dollar. Then my dad quietly matches the donation. Two thousand dollars is a lot of money to the charities we help.”

Wow. I had no idea that her dad matched the donation and doubled it.

I glanced over at her. There was a little twinkle in her eye, and it hit me: she really did care. This really was about the charity for her, about making a difference to other people’s lives.

Shit.

She really was perfect, wasn’t she?

“Is there anything wrong with you at all?” The words escaped me before I could stop them.

Halley choked. She hit her fist against her chest, and her eyes watered. “What?” Her voice was scratchy and rough, and she looked at me with confusion clouding her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head and got up for my water on the other side of the tent.

“No, tell me. What do you mean, is there anything wrong with me at all?”

I sighed. There was no getting out of this with her. “Fine.” I held my hands out either side of my body. “You’re beautiful, you’re thoughtful, you’re perhaps the most caring person I’ve ever met, and you feed raccoons, for the love of God. What is wrong with you?”

She blinked at me for a few seconds—quick, confused blinks, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe I’d just said that.

She was in good company.

I couldn’t fucking believe it either.

Then, she laughed. A huge laugh that almost made her drop her pretzel. “What are you saying?” she asked when she’d gotten herself back under control. “Are you saying I’m perfect or something?”