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“Why this one?” he probed, though I had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“Because it doesn’t give away everything all at once. It will start drawing in attention and building excitement and speculation for what you’re doing even though it’s kind of obvious since it’s being shared on my account, so maybe it’s not the best⁠—”

“Don’t doubt yourself,” he interrupted me, our eyes colliding. “I would’ve picked this one, too.”

Did he—had we just agreed on something? My throat worked to swallow.

“You should post it—the one you want.”

Tell me what you want.

I blinked rapidly, focusing on my phone. “What should I caption it?”

Instead of answering, he held out his hand. I hesitated, glancing from his palm to his eyes.

“Trust me.”

Trust him. What a loaded phrase. At least the way I heard it. Still, I passed him my cell.

He tapped on the screen, typing out his suggestion, and then handed it back to me. “That’s what I would post.”

He’d tagged his account in the photo, and the caption read: Something sweet is coming.

“I would use whatever hashtags you normally do, and then also one with my name,” he added, and my fingers quickly complied. He’d done this—posts like these thousands of times; I saw them when they came up in my feed, so I didn’t question any of his suggestions.

“Anything else?”

He shook his head. “After you post it, I’ll share it to my story and then later or tomorrow, I’ll post another photo from the set and tag you back.”

“Okay,” I said, but still my finger hovered over the post button like there was some kind of line I was about to cross, and I wasn’t exactly sure what would be waiting for me on the other side.

A breeze blew around us, and the scent of him filled my nostrils, almost like he’d moved closer to me. My gaze lifted, and if I could’ve seen his eyes during that blackout before he kissed me, I had a feeling they would’ve looked just like they did right now. Tempted—tormented.

I tapped to post and then buried my phone in my back pocket. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he said, and then we both turned as Paisley came skipping over.

“Harper, are you going to check on the queens?”

“I am. Do you want to help?” I asked. There was one hive I was a little worried about. I’d lost a good number of the population since the bees were delivered last month, so I’d been keeping a closer eye on it than the rest.

“Can I?” She clasped her hands in front of her, begging Blaze.

“Sure, pumpkin,” he said, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to head back to the house though, okay? Daddy has some work to do for this coming week.”

I fought to hide my grimace. I’d overheard Wade tell Lou that they had to head into Boston this week to start hearings on the petition, now that both sides had filed. But aside from asking me if I’d be around and willing to watch Paisley for a few afternoons, he hadn’t gone into details with me.

“And then can we make pasta and meatballs?” Her hands clasped together like a prayer.

Instead of answering her, Blaze turned to me. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” My voice cracked. “Sounds great.” I tried my best to smile, the whole time wondering what his response would be if I could frame my question as casually as his: Is no-strings sex okay with you?

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t until Blaze put some distance between Paisley and us that he was tugging on my hand that I realized he was talking about dinner, not answering my imagined question.

Chapter 12