Page 59 of Micah

Still, he did more than play hero that night. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Three days is a long time in Dry Creek.

And it’s been three days since he changed the filters in my van without asking.

Three days since he called me Princess.

Three days since he looked me dead in the eye like pretending to be my man was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Like taking care of me wasn't a burden.

Like it was simply what he wanted to do.

But the thing I really can’t stop thinking about?

Is the way he kissed me in the alley.

No audience.

No playing fake boyfriend.

It was a moment stolen out of time and it’s been on replay ever since.

Okay.

Not just the kiss.

Him.

Micah is literally all I've thought about since.

It wasn’t some quick peck. Not some cocky, overconfident move like the guys who hang around Patrick always try to pull.

No.

Micah’s kiss had been careful.

Tentative.

Like he wanted me more than he trusted himself.

Like he'd spent weeks talking himself out of touching me before finally giving in.

I still haven't figured him out.

Most men buy flowers.

Or ask for your number.

Or, if they're Patrick's friends, whistle every time you bend over to grab a case of beer.

But Micah?

He pretends to be your boyfriend when customers get stupid.

He changes the cabin air filter in your van because he noticed your asthma acting up.

He checks the oil while he's at it.