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“You wouldn’t enjoy prison.”

“No, but I would feel better about the world, so there’s that. People shouldn’t hurt children, ever. There’s no excuse.”

He appreciated her energy on the topic. It was how he’d felt, as well. Being able to share the conflicting emotions only added to her appeal.

“Have dinner with me.”

The words came without warning. Toby watched Reggie stare at him, her brows drawn together in obvious confusion.

“You’re sending some seriously mixed messages,” she told him.

“I am.”

“Why?”

He wasn’t sure if she was asking why he was sending mixed messages or why he wanted to have dinner with her, but it didn’t matter.

“I like you and I want to spend time with you.”

“But we’re not having sex and we’re not getting married.” She smiled. “Just to clarify your position.”

“I’m open to sex.”

“Most men are.”

“I think my interest in you is a lot more about who you are than anything else.”

“You’re weird. I don’t remember you being weird. Back in high school, you were the superhot bad-boy-slash-football-captain.”

“And now?”

“You’re still hot, but I don’t believe you’re bad anymore. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure you were ever bad. I think it was just an act. Maybe a way to survive. If you were tough, people would leave you alone. Of course, then you were lonely, but you were willing to pay the price to feel safe.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s what this whole Harrison thing is about. It’s not what you promised him. It’s that you need to keep him safe, at any price. But safe is always a moving target—in some ways it’s intangible. So the whole marriage thing is your way of controlling an uncontrollable situation. Huh. Interesting.”

Her insights slapped him upside the head like a blow from a two-by-four. Mentally he staggered and wondered if he was going down. She was right, of course, but that she’d figured it out so easily stunned him.

He was still trying to recover when she turned and grabbed another tote from the closet.

“Yes, Toby, I’ll have dinner with you,” she said, handing him the container. “I think at the end of the evening, kissing is a possibility, but no on the sex.” She flashed him a smile that was nearly as lethal as the two-by-four. “At least for now.”

Dena tried to lose herself in the chapter on the third month of her pregnancy, but the words simply weren’t gripping. Actually, that wasn’t fair—the words were fine. The problem was her. Specifically, that she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Micah had kissed her.

She didn’t know what to make of what had happened. No matter how many times she turned the concept over, held it up to the light, replayed it in her mind, it didn’t make sense.

He’d kissed her. More than once, on the mouth, and at the end, with tongue. Like a real kiss. A boy-girl kiss. Only they weren’t in a boy-girl thing. So why had he done it, and what was she supposed to do now?

She set down the book and reached for her phone.

Are you done with knitting for the night?

Reggie’s reply came immediately. Just wrapping up.

Can you swing by the B and B? I need to talk and I’ll ply you with yummy snacks and delicious wine.

What’s the snack?

Despite her confusion about what was happening with her life, or specifically Micah, Dena laughed. You’re saying I have to lure you with food?