Page 37 of Tinsel & Tools

I stilled with my fork in hand. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, I’m excited.”

“What’s it about?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Just a love story. I’m a pantser, not a plotter, so I’m not one hundred percent sure where the story will go.”

“Pantser.” I took another bite. “You’re talking about writing or your pants?”

He laughed. “Which answer keeps me here longer?”

“Finish your dinner,” I muttered, avoiding his question.

“You could help with the outline.”

“I thought you didn’t plot?” I countered as I arched a brow.

“I might tonight.” He smirked, then forked a bite like he hadn’t just said it.

I shook my head. “You’re shameless.”

“Confident,” he corrected, chewing slowly. “Big difference.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.” He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “Outlines can be useful. Structure, direction … knowing exactly how close I want to get.”

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “Pretty sure this isn’t about your book anymore.”

“Pretty sure you’re right.”

I pushed the last of my food around the plate, but the edge in his grin didn’t fade, not even when Hazel came by to clear the dishes.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Only if you are.”

I slid out of the booth, threw some cash on the table, and nudged my head for Gavin to follow me out.

“You driving?” I asked.

“Yeah, my car’s up near the bank.” He held my gaze. “I’ll follow you.”

“To the inn?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“To your place.”

“We have an early start in the morning.”

“I know.” He took a step closer. “Tell me to go home and I will.”

I didn’t. “Meet you there.”

We walked through the square and then split for our cars once we got near the hardware store.

Inside my truck, I rolled down the window, needing the cool air to hit my heated skin. What was I doing? My grip tightened on the wheel as I headed toward my place. This would be the second time I let this happen. Once I could almost write off as an accident, a mistake, something that happened in the heat of the moment. Twice meant it was real, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

I told myself it was just between us; no one else had to know. But my pulse still raced.