Kimberly Van Meter - An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love

“Would you like us to bring the lemonade canisters to Dean’s office or to your house?”

“The office would be fine,” she murmured.

“They’re heavy once you fill them,” Mary said, then looked to Dean. “You can help her, right, son?”

Dean caught Annabelle’s gaze and she felt the power of his stare all the way down to her toes. Before she knew it, a smile was curving her lips and all but announcing to the room that something was going on between them.

“No need,” Annabelle said quickly, dropping the smile in favor of something more businesslike. “I’m sure I can manage on my own. I’m stronger than I look.”

A wave of light laughter filled the room but all Annabelle could see was Dean as he told his mother that he’d help in any way the committee might need him.

He was an incredible kisser. Sweet, yet firm; gentle yet demanding. He’d possessed her mouth with nothing less than mastery and Annabelle had had to fight to keep her expression carefully schooled lest it drift into something akin to blissfully dreamy.

“You look like you have something juicy to share,” Dana whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Tell now? Or later?”

“What are you talking about?” Annabelle said, trying to bluff, but Dana wasn’t buying. She tried harder to throw her best friend off the scent. “I’m just happy to be involved. Feels good, you know?”

Dana nodded but a shrewd light shone from her eyes. “Mmm-hmm” was all she said, but Annabelle breathed a secret sigh of relief that Dana didn’t seem inclined to press just yet. The operative word being yet. That was okay. By the time Dana got around to squeezing something out of Annabelle, whatever was going on between her and Dean would likely be over. Annabelle wasn’t a fool. Well, at the moment she was certainly acting like one, mooning over her boss, but in the long run, she knew where things really stood. This was a fling. Plain and simple. Ordinarily, Annabelle wasn’t one to play that game, but there was something about Dean that robbed her of the ability to think straight. Especially when he hit her with those smoldering glances that all but screamed he was thinking of one thing.

And that should piss her off. She hated being objectified. But coming from Dean it didn’t feel like something cheap and tawdry, though a part of her was petrified that it was exactly that, but she was too googly-eyed to notice it for what it truly was. Ugh. She rubbed her temple as her own dizzying logic sent a stabbing pain straight to her brain.

Somehow the meeting ended and she managed to make all the appropriate head bobs and agreements though she couldn’t for the life of her recall what had been the topic of discussion. Something about refreshments? Cucumber sandwiches? Who eats those? Sounded dreadful. Hope she’d heard that wrong.

They filed out of the community hall, which was really a glorified barn that had been retrofitted for the town’s purpose of a meeting center, and Annabelle said her goodbyes to everyone, hoisting Honey higher on her hip as she awaited Dean. She hated being dependent on him, but they’d arrived together, and he had the car seat in the truck. It didn’t seem right to arrive and leave together. She didn’t want people to talk.

“Maybe Dana could give us a ride home,” Annabelle suggested, hating the nervous quality of her voice. When he looked at her oddly, she explained with a fair amount of awkwardness. “Well, you know, I don’t want you to think that I expect you to drive us around all the time. Dana and Sammy would surely take us home if I asked. And, I don’t want people to think…” She blushed. “You know. In the absence of facts, people make up stories.”

Instead of answering, Dean gently took Honey from her arms and said, “Are you hungry, monkey? I am. Let’s get something to eat. All that talk of cucumber and aram sandwiches has made me hungry for some real food.” He turned to Annabelle with a twitching grin. “You coming? Or would you rather stand out here in the dark discussing the merits of the Emmett’s Mill gossip grapevine? Which, I might add, started talking the moment Sammy hired you. Since there’s nothing we can do about it, let’s eat.”

Smart. And utterly frustrating because he was right.

“I’m uncomfortable with everyone knowing my business,” she said quietly when she caught up to him. “I’d rather whatever is happening between us—if anything—is kept between you and me. People might not look at me very kindly if they thought I was trying to move in on Emmett’s Mill’s favorite widower.”

“No one would think that.”

“Yes, they would. I know how people think about strangers in small towns. Guilty until proven innocent and I don’t want anyone to judge me or Honey.”

He shot her a quick look that was incredibly protective and warmed her heart in a silly way. “No one is going to say a word about either of you. I wouldn’t allow it.”

Dean buckled Honey into her seat and Annabelle climbed into the truck, struck by how comfortable this moment was. They felt like a family. Shaking off that ridiculous—and dangerous—thought, she strapped on her seat belt and exhaled a short breath. “Well, thanks, but you can just take us home. I’ll just throw in a pot pie for me and Honey to share.”

“How about you let me take you and Honey to dinner?”

Annabelle balked. “Out? In public? That’s just begging for tongues to wag at my expense. No thanks. Are you ready to answer questions about… this?” Not that she knew what this was herself.

His mouth compressed into a tight line and she had her answer, though it poked her in a vulnerable spot. She straightened. “See? Home is best.”

“Right.” He sighed and put the truck in gear.

DEAN COULD smell whatever fragrance Annabelle always wore, whether it was simply her shampoo or perfume, and it made him want to bury his nose in the waves that fell down her back in an inviting tumble. He’d gone and screwed things up royally, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. No, he could admit it hadn’t been smart, but he couldn’t say he wouldn’t want to do it again if given the chance. Annabelle was under his skin in the worst way and he hungered to know more.

But she was right. He wasn’t ready to answer questions. Not even his own.

Honey was already asleep by the time they reached Annabelle’s house. Frowning because Honey hadn’t eaten before she conked out, he wondered if they should wake her. He followed Annabelle inside, casting a wary eye around at the premises, then went straight to Honey’s crib to put her down.

“Shouldn’t she eat first?” he asked softly, moving aside so Annabelle could put the baby into her pajamas. He watched as she maneuvered Honey deftly into a sleeper without waking her. Beth had been able to do that, too. He’d always managed to wake Brandon every time he tried to do the same. He smiled. Must be a woman thing. Annabelle gestured for them to leave the room.

“I fed her before the meeting because I knew it might get late,” she answered with a smile that was far too fleeting for his liking.

“Something’s bothering you.”

She avoided his stare and moved past him into the kitchen. “I’m just a little hungry. Do you want something? I have some pot pies that are pretty good for microwave food.”

He shook his head, catching her hand and gently pulling her to him. He ought to leave. Stop complicating an already messed-up situation, but he wasn’t going to. The breath hitched in her chest and the subtle movement created a cascading response in his body. He swallowed, feeling as if he was standing at the deep end of the pool and he’d suddenly forgotten how to swim. “I can’t think straight when you’re around,” he said softly, dipping to inhale the sweet skin at her neck. “Why is that?”