Page 36 of Kiss Me, Sweetheart (Something Borrowed 2)

“Yep. Different flavors too. I make this lemon one dipped in a sugar glaze that is so good. I don’t make them often because one time I ate all of them and Asher…”

She trailed off and he had a feeling her ex had been a dick about it.

“I used to stress eat as a kid,” Dustin said.

Rylie laughed. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true. In elementary and the start of middle school. One time, I got this D on a test and I was so stressed about telling my dad, that I ate an entire cake I found in the refrigerator that they had bought for a party they were going to. Turns out, he was so pissed about the cake, that the D didn’t even faze him.”

Rylie grabbed a doughnut from the box he held. “How did you get past it? Overeating, I mean.”

“I shot up six inches the summer after eighth grade. Started running and swimming. Exercise and getting stronger became my substitute. Turns out, it’s easy to replace one addiction with another.”

“Ha, not for me. I am allergic to running. I do like swimming though. I love dancing, too, and Marley got me into yoga. I like to try different programs, I just wish I was more consistent about it.”

“Well, you could always go with me in the morning. I usually run five K starting at six.”

“Eff that! I’d go one mile and collapse!” she said.

His eyes scanned her smiling face, the oval shape and wide brown eyes. His gaze dipped a bit to her breast peeking over the top of her peach colored bridesmaid gown and he couldn’t stop the noise of appreciation from rumbling from his lips.

“Whatever you’re doing, I think you look good.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Thank you.”

The car grew hotter than the coffee, and Dustin opened his door. “Bring your coffee and doughnut and let’s walk.”

The night had cooled, signaling that fall would be there soon. Dustin popped the last bite of his doughnut into his mouth and looked around the run-down buildings. The old mining town included a saloon, a general store, a hotel, a bank, and several other buildings that had lost their identity years before. The saloon had been nearly destroyed in a fire just a month ago, and the rest of the buildings needed a lot of work. New roofs, floors, windows. But their renovation goals were to keep the town as close to its original state as possible with a few modern conveniences.

The moon was three quarters full, and bright enough to light their way as they walked down the dirt road between the two rows of structures.

“I am so glad my bride let us wear flats tonight,” Rylie said next to him. Her enunciation had improved, and he figured she was slowly sobering up.

“Why did she?”

“Because she was only four foot eleven inches and even with heels on, the rest of her bridesmaids towered over her.”

“Yikes, that is a short woman. I’d break my neck trying to kiss her.”

Rylie laughed. “Oh please.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t like short girls. Guys love that shit. It makes them feel big and powerful.”

He shot her what he hoped was a wolfish grin and waggled his brows. “I like women of all shapes, sizes, and heights. I don’t discriminate.”

“I’ve noticed,” she grumbled.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, turning to walk backward so he could see her face in the moonlight.

She scoffed forcefully. “No. I just think you could show a little discretion about who you give yourself to, is all.”

“It’s just my body. It’s not like I fall in love with every girl I sleep with.”

Rylie threw up her hands. “That makes it worse. You should feel something if you’re being that intimate with someone.”

He would never understand some women’s hang-ups about sex. “Intimacy is living with someone and sharing a life with them. I don’t do that.”