Page 67 of Heart Over Heels

Dipping in, I caught him breathless. It was awkward with the cardboard box jammed between us, but then he leaned in too, and our mouths sealed fully together. His lips moved against mine, tentative at first then hungrier, sucking lightly, his tongue feathering at the seam of my mouth in a request for more.

I let him have it. Then I letmyselfhave a taste of him, something sweet I gladly swallowed down.

He pulled back first, leaving me licking my lips for the essence that remained.

When our eyes met again, his pupils were blown wide and his nostrils flared. His hand cradled my face, and when I nuzzled into his palm, I didn’t need the lot light to know he was burning up with blush.

“How about we take this back to your place?” I murmured, lids low and voice sultry.

Mercer blanched. “Take… what?” His expression was so stricken, so lost, that I burst out laughing.

“The toaster oven, of course.” I gave the box in my lap a thump.

Relief flickered across his face. “Oh! Sure, yeah.”

He rose while I tugged my heels back on, then he offered his hand and hauled me to my feet. The wig was left on the ground as I shifted the oven box in my arms. It was bulky and a bit heavy, but I carried it with pride as Mercer led me toward the motorcycle.

“What’s the point of these things?” I asked, hugging the box closer. “We already have a toasterandan oven, but Ozzy gets a little gourmet sometimes…”

“They’re pretty good at making s’mores,” Mercer replied.

Excitement sparked in my chest. “Do you have marshmallows?”

His head shook, and my grin drooped into a frown.

“We could stop for some?” he offered.

“Deal!” My tail gave a happy wag, and I jutted my chin toward the bike. “You drive.”

Mercer paused, brow cocked like he wasn’t sure if I was serious.

I slung my hip into him while snickering. “It was a joke, Mercy.”

When we pulled up beside the Victory, I eyeballed the seat, the saddlebags, and the ridiculous little appliance in my grasp. Mercer crouched beside one of the bags and started digging around inside.

“Seriously, though,” I added after a moment. “How are we getting out of here with this?”

Mercer straightened from the saddlebag with a bungee cord in his hand and a smile on his lips. “Carefully,” he replied.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Mercer

We got looks at the store. Stares blatant enough that I became aware of how rarely anyone noticed me otherwise. Darby didn’t shy from the attention. His sunny disposition held steady and was further bolstered when I found the nerve to take his hand again.

We grabbed marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars—the classic s’mores starter kit—and loaded them into the Victory’s saddlebags before finishing the ride to my house. Once there, Darby whisked the toaster oven straight into the kitchen and set about unboxing it, leaving plastic bags and foam packing scattered across the floor.

I thought about telling him what happened after he’d fled Bingo. It hadn’t been as bad as he likely feared. People were surprised, sure, but the ones who mattered—Earl, Jack, and Ava—had shown nothing but kindness.

“Poor thing,” Ava had cooed.

“Better go after him,” Jack added.

“And don’t forget his prize!” Earl tagged on while shaking his head. “Damn beginner’s luck.”

But I let it lie for now, busying myself unwrapping the crackers and chocolate while stealing glimpses of Darby fiddling with the controls on the toaster oven, having forgone the user manual in favor of a game of trial and error.