His hand dropped. Another silence followed; this one was weightier, and I couldn’t figure out why. All I knew was I could feel his eyes on me and they felt heavy.
But then, out of nowhere, Cletus said, “I guess we’re going to have to practice.”
“Pardon me?”
“Practice kissing. Like what you did with Billy.”
I reeled back as my head whipped to the side, our eyes colliding. I couldn’t believe my ears. “You think . . . you want me to practice kissing with Billy?”
“No. No. Absolutely not.” Again, Cletus’s gaze flickered over me. “I mean you and me. I’ll help you practice.”
The heart flip returned, but this time it was more forceful than before. And it brought some friends—the tummy cartwheel, the throat cinch, and the chest ache.
What. The. Hell . . .?
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I rasped, forced to clear my throat, astonishment making my lungs burn.
“Why?” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.
Meanwhile, my hands were sweating. I was sweating everywhere. Even my feet in the cold stream were sweating.
“Because . . . because . . . because—” I glanced at the canopy above us, then the other side of the riverbed, the dirt next to me, the tree trunk to my left. Basically, I looked everywhere but at Cletus. “Because I’m blackmailing you and it doesn’t feel right. Like, I’m forcing you to kiss me.”
“But you’d practice with Billy?”
“Yes. He’d be doing it to help, not because of something I’m holding over his head.” I felt the urge to place some distance between us, so I stood and grabbed my shoes. I perched myself on a large rock and pulled on my socks.
“What if I promised I wasn’t doing it because of the blackmail?” Cletus tried to catch my eye so I lowered my chin to my chest as he added, “I want to help.”
I shook my head, unable to speak. I didn’t want to kiss Cletus.
Sometimes Cletus was open with me. But sometimes he was distant. I never knew from one moment to the next what mood he’d be in, just like I never knew what color his eyes would be.
I didn’t want to kiss him and then spend time with him after, pretending like everything was fine. I didn’t want to kiss him and then be invisible to him again when our deal was at an end. Because I would remember. I already felt too much.
So, no. I didn’t want to kiss Cletus.
Not if it didn’t mean something to him.
Because it would mean something to me.
The ache in my chest became a burning thing, I pressed my fingers against my sternum and rubbed.
“Here are the facts.” Cletus paused, his tone rational and reasonable. “You need practice. Yes, at first you got my attention because of the video. I freely admit that. But we’ve become something else. We’re friends, right?”
“I hope so,” I admitted as I stood from the rock and faced the trail, not yet brave enough to meet his gaze when the subject was whether or not he would teach me how to kiss.
“Then let me help you, as a friend. I can teach you how, give you confidence in your technique. I know what I’m doing. I’m basically a kissing professional.”
“I have no doubt you know what you’re doing,” I said without turning around and a little stab of jealousy prickled behind my eyes, making my brain hot.
How many women has he kissed?
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. I could feel his eyes on me and it did nothing to ease the riot of emotions and longing assaulting my heart, making it difficult to breathe and think.
“How about we do it once, no big deal. If you—”
“Cletus!” I faced him suddenly. He sounded so practical, so academic about the whole thing. Like kissing me would be as forgettable as eating a tuna sandwich. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Fine.” He lifted his hands as though he surrendered. “Don’t talk about it. Just think about it.”
I exhaled an agitated breath and turned away. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
In my peripheral vision I saw him nod once, like the matter was settled.
I felt slightly sick. Because the truth was, given the strength of my reaction to his suggestion, I probably wouldn’t think about anything other than kissing Cletus Winston for the foreseeable future.
CHAPTER 16
“Hide not your talents, they for use were made. What's a sundial in the shade?”
― Benjamin Franklin
Jennifer
Rain pounded against the roof when Billy picked me up on Saturday morning. Rainy days are my favorite because hot food tastes best on a cold rainy day.
My mother was not happy about my decision to go to Nashville. It took some convincing, but she finally acquiesced. She said it was because I didn’t have any events or special appearances booked. But the truth was, I didn’t give her much of a choice.
The only thing giving me some guilt was that I had to bake, decorate, and freeze the cake orders for the next several days ahead of time. The cakes wouldn’t be as fresh as usual, but they were finished and ready to be delivered.