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Not only is she considering it, the shy smile on her lips tells me she likes the idea.

“Give you a kiss?” she asks, sounding like she’s inviting encouragement.

Cam takes a step closer to her. “Yeah. Just a kiss.”

After a long pause, she says, “I suppose I could do that.” She stares back at him for a moment, considering, though it’s clear she’s already made her decision.

She goes up on her toes, putting one hand on Cam’s shoulder, then the other. I’m expecting her to aim for his cheek, but she goes straight for the lips, triggering a jab of jealousy that’s like a kick in my stomach.

I’m too stunned to look away at first, but when the kiss continues, I not only avert my eyes, I also turn my back to them. I don’t want to watch, but curiosity instantly eats away at me.

How long is the kiss going on? Are hands getting involved? The image of them together is already burned on my brain like a nightmare, and I’m shocked at how strongly I feel about it.

Then Cam clears his throat, and I turn back to find Stella fully separated from him and looking at me.

As conflicted as I am, I still move toward her without any forethought, like nothing could keep me away. When she looks up at me, I’m gentleman enough to say, “You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“I didn’t say that. But I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

She shakes her head, a small movement, her eyes on mine the whole time. “That’s not why I’m kissing you.”

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. Knowing Cam’s interested in her too, I hadn’t envisioned this.

I’ve thought about a few other things that involved Stella and me, but those were only because I couldn’t control the way my dirty mind wanders.

But a kiss? Somehow I’m unprepared.

Luckily, my body knows what to do. I close the distance between us and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to me with more force than is probably necessary.

Her pretty pink lips form a small round “oh” of surprise, and then those lips are pressing against mine, all sweet and soft, like something I could get lost in for hours.

All of her is sweet and soft, from her back, where my hand is pressing her closer, to her hair, which brushes against my face in the evening breeze, and the scent of her, which washes away any memory of what originally brought me to her yard tonight.

I want more from the kiss, but now isn’t the time. I want more, and I want her to want more, too. When she tilts her head and starts to take another taste, I briefly capture her top lip, tug gently, then pull away.

The highlight of my week—actually, my month and maybe my year—is the look in her eyes after we part. Slightly dazed and surprised with a pout of frustration. She does want more.

“We’ll be over tomorrow morning to patch up the fence,” Cam says after clearing his throat again.

“I’ll be over with a herd of skunks, so you’ll have a reason to kiss us again,” I tell her, loving the look she gives me in response.

“A surfeit,” Cam says.

“What?”

“A group of skunks is called a surfeit, or sometimes, more suitably, a stench.”

“A stench of skunks?” Stella says. “That’s very appropriate.”

“Why do you know that?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

We reluctantly say goodbye, and Cam and I leave through the gate to walk back around to our house rather than jumping the fence again. Neither of us says anything until we round the corner.

“What’s the plan?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”