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She was definitely killing me… in all the right ways.

I pulled into her driveway and she immediately reached for her doorhandle.

“Let me,” I requested softly.

She looked over at me, surprised. “Oh yeah. You like the whole opening door thing.”

“I thought all Southern ladies were used to that.”

“Most guys know I’m the open my own door kind of gal.”

“I’m sure you are, but let me, okay?”

The way she nodded, had her hair hiding her face, showcasing that streak of blue. I ached to push it back behind her ear, but I didn’t. After all we’d been through, I wanted it to be very clear that I had touching privileges. I didn’t want her to think that I was assuming things just because I delivered her—I mean, just because I delivered Olivia.

I got out of my truck and went to open her door. She didn’t grab the handle and step on the running board as I expected. Instead she put both her hands on my shoulders and used me as support to lower herself to the ground, our bodies sliding against one another, her eyes never leaving mine.

Well then.

I guess touching was in play.

I shut the door behind her and walked her up the stairs. We stood on her large porch in front of her door.

“Would you like to come in for an after-dinner drink, coffee, or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate, huh?”

“You only had one beer with dinner, I figured you wouldn’t want to drink again before picking up James. A cup of coffee would just keep you awake all night, so that’s why hot chocolate is on offer. But I do have juice boxes. I have red, blue and green flavors.”

I chuckled. “As tempting as all of that is, I’ll have to pass. I need to get to the jobsite early tomorrow. If I pick James up too late, he’ll be a bear to wake up in the morning.”

I was almost positive I saw a flash of regret on her face, before it was masked. I couldn’t be sure, because Zoe was great at masking.

“However…”

“Yes?” Her smile was something she’d give a customer at her store.

“I was hoping for a goodnight kiss.”

Her smile metamorphosized. Now I was seeing the woman in the restaurant. The woman who had looked at her eggplant parmigiana like it was some kind of gift from God.

“I could be talked into a kiss goodnight. What flavor?”

I thought for a moment. “Red. Definitely red.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

The April night had been warm enough that she hadn’t worn a coat, therefore I slipped my arm around her waist and stepped forward so that our bodies touched. Just brushed together. I wanted to work my way up to red.

She was a petite woman, and I was six foot two. I didn’t want to do anything that would overwhelm her.

Zoe undid the buttons on my suit jacket, then slid her hands up my chest. Apparently, I wasn’t overwhelming.

Her palms were warm even through my dress shirt, and I felt every inch of the contact like she'd pressed a brand against my skin.

I brought my free hand up and did what I'd been wanting to do all evening—tucked that streak of blue back behind her ear. She went very still.

"Hi," I said quietly.