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“That’s a question for Lynette. She’s an alien and ghost expert. Paranormal activity in general.” I move my arm behind Evie, and she snuggles in.
“I’ll remember that next time I see her. Oh, look at this. ‘Goat intestines. Mostly clean.’ No, thank you.” She makes a gagging noise, and I laugh. “Lots of creepy dolls. Also, no thank you.” She points to one that may or may not be a miniature Betty White.
“How about coffin handles?” I touch her screen, and it jumps to the post. I was only joking, but she zooms in on the pictures.
“Actually, these may be perfect.” She touches a picture of long rod-like handles, at least thirty-inches or more. They’re gold, but tarnished, and the poster claims they’re from the late eighteen hundreds. “Georgia wants a pantry area, and these would be perfect for the sliding doors.”
“Great idea.” Unless someone knows what they are, they don’t look like they’ve come from a coffin. “They’re probably not used. I don’t know of anybody digging up graves around here for handles.”
Evie screen shots the page, then scrolls some more. “I’ll call them tomorrow. This site is gold. There’s got to be more here.”
I’m watching her, not the screen, when she stops again. “Oh, this one is sad. ‘Engagement ring. Lightly used.’”
My eyes dart to the post, then back to her. A maroon color spreads across her cheeks, and I pull away. She’s figured out who’s trying to offload the “gently used ring.”
It’s not that hard. My cell number is on the post and my face feels as red as hers looks.
“I’m sorry, Adam.” Evie lays a hand on my arm. Her eyes are soft, but not with pity. “I honestly don’t know how any woman could walk out on a guy like you. You’re amazing.”
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m set in my ways. I’m boring. I’m happy living a quiet life in a small town, doing the same things I’ve always done with the same people I’ve always known. I’m okay not having a big life.”
Evie holds a finger to my lips. “Listen to me. You. Are. Amazing. You don’t need a big life to be that. You just are.” Her eyes aren’t soft anymore. They’re determined, and her pupils are so large only a sliver of blue is left around them.
Determined isn’t the right way to describe them. There’s wanting in them, and I don’t think it has anything to do with her wanting me to believe her words.
Our chests rise and fall together as she lowers her finger from my lips. I catch her hand on its way down and interlace my fingers with hers. With my other hand and a lot of awkwardness, I move the laptop from between us and toss it behind me.
I lean toward Evie, and she lifts her face to mine and closes the distance. I give her a tentative kiss. She returns it with a longer one, and I slide my free hand behind her back. We both move closer, and I kiss her again, softly and cautiously at first, then with more intention. I’vewantedother women, but Dakota’s the only one I’ve ever really been with.
Acting on want for someone other than Dakota unlocks something inside me. A sense of freedom and abandon, and I take my kisses deeper.
Evie slides her hand to the nape of my neck and nips my bottom lip. I nip back, then lock her lips in mine. When she tugs, I tug harder. She lets out a soft moan and lets go of my hand to grab my shirt. Then she leans back, pulling me with her.
Gentle exploring is over. We’re in expedition mode, and I want to discover every part of Evie. Her hands travel down my chest, where she untucks my shirt, then sends her fingers under my shirt and up my bare back. Now it’s my turn to moan, and I trail my kisses across her jaw to her ear. My lips touch her lobe, her fingers tighten on my back, so I keep going. I trail kisses down her ear.
But then she goes tense.
I try one more kiss, and she lifts her shoulders to her ears. Then she giggles.
I pull back. Giggling isn’t exactly what I was going for during my first make-out session in way too long.
“I’m sorry,” she says and drops her hands to my waist. “My ears are super ticklish.”
I move in again. “Ticklish?” I whisper into her ear before tugging on her lobe. “How ticklish?”
She squeals and tries to squirm away, but I’m on top of her. I press my mouth to her ear again.
That’s when she finds my ticklish spot, right below my ribs. I don’t know how she zeroes in on it so quickly, but as soon as she digs her fingers into that spot, I roll off her. Sadly, there’s no more couch to roll onto, so I end up on the floor. I catch myself before I land, but not before I knock my head on the coffee table.
At the noise, Rosie barks. I sit up and clutch the back of my head.
Evie jumps off the couch. “Are you okay?” She pulls my hand away from my head. “There’s no blood, but there’s going to be a nasty knot. I’ll get you some ice.”
While she goes to the kitchen, I hush Rosie and pull myself up to the sofa. My head is pounding, and I keep my hand pressed to it as I lean back.
Evie comes back and hands me a bag. “This is the best I can do. I’m out of ice.”
I glance at the bag, then hold it to my growing knot. “Frozen strawberries it is.” I take a deep breath. “This is not how I pictured our...” I don’t know what to call it without sounding like a horny teenager, so I motion to the section of the couch we previously occupied. “That. Whatever just happened. To end.”
