Page 113 of The Best Shot

She looked away.

I tipped her chin back. “That’s the problem? That I didn’t notice?”

“No.” She pushed my hand away. “The problem is that I did. I wanted to walk over there and—” She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It’s completely stupid. We’re not even…” She gestured between us. “I don’t even know what we are.”

“Then ask me.”

She finally looked at me. Wary.

“Barista on Main,” I said. “Draws a heart in your latte foam every damn time and acts like it’s standard practice.”

Her brows pulled together. “It’s not?”

“Hardware store,” I continued. “Aisle three. Dude offering to help you pick out paint like I wasn’t standing right there. And let’s not forget the guy at the farmers market who bought eggs he didn’t need because you smiled at him. I notice.”

For once, she had nothing smart to say.

“Same boat, darlin’. I’m just quieter about it.”

Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt.

“We’re figuring it out,” I said. “I don’t know what this is supposed to look like. I just know I don’t want to do it with anyone else.”

Her shoulders loosened.

I brushed my thumb across her jaw. “I’m crazy about you, Yasmine.”

Hadn’t meant to say it yet. But there it was.

She did that careful, searching thing she got sometimes, like she was trying to see past what I was saying to what I meant, and I couldn’t tell if I’d just made everything better or ruined it entirely.

Then she kissed me.

And I stopped trying to figure anything out.

32

“I WAS READY TO FIGHT YOU.”

YASMINE

Ihad three outfits draped over my arm and didn’t plan on putting any of them back.

“This one,” I said, holding up a tiny denim jacket that had no business existing at that size. The cuteness was almost criminal.

CeeCee leaned on the cart and eyed it. “He’s not going to need denim outerwear at three weeks old.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“You’re doing too much,” she said.

I grabbed a set of onesies off the rack. “And these.”

She held them up and read. “My aunt is cooler than your Mama.”