Well Matched (Well Met #3)(39)

I pushed those thoughts away as I let Mitch pull me into the shower and draw me into a soapy embrace. The weekend wasn’t over yet. We still had a few hours.





Eleven





No one noticed. Which was probably a testament to how well Mitch and I had been faking it all weekend. But me? I noticed everything. I was hyperaware of his hand at the small of my back as we walked in the front door at his grandparents’ house, and the way he absentmindedly trailed his knuckles up and down my spine while we talked to Lulu on the back deck after the meal was over. We stood a little closer to each other, leaned into each other a little more than we had the day before. But if anyone noticed, no one said a word.

The beginning of the ride home was filled with the classic rock station on his satellite radio. Which meant, of course, it was also filled with bad singing along. I won’t say who was doing the bad singing, because what happens in Mitch’s truck stays in Mitch’s truck. As we closed in on the city limits of Willow Creek, Mitch turned down the radio.

“Thanks for this weekend.”

I wanted to snort in response, my mind immediately going to last night’s acrobatics, but he was using his rare Serious Voice, so I refrained. Instead I shrugged, casual. “I got free barbecue out of the deal, so I came out ahead.”

He considered that, then nodded. “That’s fair. Not to mention the mac and cheese. Best part of every get-together, I’m telling you.”

I stole a glance at him, my cheeks heating up as I remembered finishing off the rest of it in bed with him last night. But he didn’t seem to be alluding to anything. Sometimes, macaroni and cheese was just macaroni and cheese. This whole ride home, I’d been wondering if we were going to discuss what had happened the night before. Was it time for an awkward conversation about what this meant for our friendship going forward?

But he didn’t say anything about it and neither did I. I reminded myself of his early morning appointments in his phone, each with a different woman. His mind was probably back on them already, and I was in the rearview. Been there, done her.

So when he pulled into the driveway and handed me my bag after I got out of the truck, I just said, “Thanks.” There was an awkward beat where we didn’t look at each other; instead we both glanced toward my house, and out to my front yard that needed mowing.

“No, thank you,” he said. When he finally looked at me it was like a switch had been flipped and he was the old Mitch I’d always known. Same smile, same cheerful personality. “I’ll see you, right?”

“Right.” Okay. That’s how this was going to go. Back to being friends, like the last couple days had never happened. Like we hadn’t done those very more-than-friend-like things together in the dark last night. I could handle that.

I waved as he hopped in his truck and drove off, and then turned back to the house. Emily’s Jeep wasn’t in the driveway, so maybe she and Caitlin were at the bookstore. Having the house to myself for a bit might not be a bad thing. My brain was still a little wobbly from the events of the past forty-eight hours.

But the television was on when I opened the front door, and Caitlin was sprawled across the couch, scrolling through her phone. So much for alone time. She glanced up as I came inside, and I braced myself for another ten rounds of passive-aggression from my daughter. Instead she gave me a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” I left my suitcase and purse by the door and went to the couch, picking up Caitlin’s feet, dropping down onto the cushion, and replacing her feet in my lap. “What happened to your aunt?”

“She went home this morning.” Caitlin clicked her screen off. “She said that I could probably behave myself until you came home.”

“Good job on that. I knew you could be trusted.” I patted her ankles and she huffed out a laugh. Then she gave a pointed look toward the front window, then back at me.

“Are you dating Coach Malone?”

“What?” A tingle spread through me at the thought, and I didn’t want to take the time to analyze what that tingle meant. The important thing was to shut down this line of questioning. “Where did you get that from?”

She scoffed. “That was his truck dropping you off, Mom. I’m not stupid. Besides, Emily told me that you went away for the weekend with him.”

“Did she.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement that said, I’m gonna kill my little sister. I didn’t like gossip. Never had. It brought me back to those final days of my marriage: the pointed looks at the grocery store, the conversations between friends that hushed to a halt when I showed up. The whispers here in Willow Creek when the single mother and her little girl had moved to town.

“Yeah. Which was more than you told me,” she said pointedly.

“What? I told you where I was going.”

“No, you didn’t. All you said was that you were going away for the weekend and I wasn’t mature enough to be trusted without a babysitter.”

“Okay. That’s not exactly what I said.” I took a deep breath. This wasn’t gossip, I reminded myself. This was family. “You’re right. I was with Coach Malone this weekend. But we’re not dating. It was . . .” I thought hard. “You know how you and your friends did a group thing for prom? Instead of going as couples?”