it on.”
They followed Harry into the dining room, and he was hardly one step over the threshold when Ann said, “Jaime?”
He glanced her way, noted the mischief on her face, and braced himself.
And found out approximately half a second later that it had been the wisest course of action because her next question was, “What does Kate have to do to get you to buy her a real diamond?”
Ten
Kate
It had been the best night ever.
Jaime reached across her after she’d sat down in the passenger’s seat and buckled her seat belt. She didn’t protest the action, nor the kiss he brushed to her forehead, too exhausted after the workday, after the emotional conversation with Ann, after the dinner filled with laughing and teasing and so much love, after . . . spending the evening living a lie that didn’t actually feel like a lie.
She wanted it to be real.
So fucking much.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Kate nodded, forced a smile. “Just tired.”
Pale brown eyes holding hers. “Sure?”
She nodded again, heart thumping when he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. But then he was stepping back, hand going to the door. “Well, then, let’s get you home.”
“I—”
The door closed, cutting off her sentence.
Which was just as well because she was probably going to say something stupid like, “I don’t want to go home yet.”
But she needed to go home.
She needed to remind herself that Jaime wasn’t hers, not really. He wasn’t her man, the one whose gaze had connected with hers over Lacy’s head, the longing in his eyes no doubt matching hers. He wasn’t her man who’d charmed her mom and sister, who’d calmed the overprotectiveness of her brother and father.
He wasn’t even her man who’d fallen for her over a ketchup bottle.
But he was the man who’d thought to bring her a ring, who’d bought her lunch and looked at her with open desire, who laughed and smiled freely, who touched her gently and frequently, who buckled her seat belt and showed up at a restaurant after a long and complicated procedure because he was worried that she hadn’t gotten his message.
He was a good man.
And that probably should have been enough to slap her fantasy-addled mind into reality.
Because good men didn’t want her.
Her door opened again, and suddenly Jaime was there, his mouth inches away from hers, hot breath on her lips, hands holding her face.
“Don’t be sad, Red,” he murmured.
Embarrassed, she started to turn away, not liking that he could read her so easily, abruptly hating that he’d been able to insert himself into her life so effortlessly. That was dangerous because she was going to miss him when he was gone.
“I’m fine,” she said, deliberately not meeting his eyes, not when he saw so much.
His stare she was avoiding felt heavy on her face, but she still didn’t turn to meet it, didn’t offer up any more words, and after a moment, Jaime brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I like you, Kate,” he said. “A lot. Your family, too. And that has not one fucking bit to do with the fact that the ring you’re wearing isn’t real.”
Her lungs had frozen at the first statement.
By the time he’d made it to the end of his words and had dropped his hands, stepping back and closing the door for a second time, they burned from an utter lack of oxygen.
He paused as he rounded the hood, eyes locking onto hers, and she found that she could breathe again. Sucking in much-needed oxygen, she watched him continue on, heard the slight pop from his door opening, felt the car move as he sat down and buckled in, heard the rumble of the engine as he pressed the button to start the ignition.
What she didn’t hear?
More words.
The man, the good man, was giving her time to process.
He pulled out of the driveway, the path slightly more difficult to maneuver as Ann and Dave had ridden home together, leaving Dave’s car parked behind them and bundling a sleeping Lacy into the back seat of Ann’s SUV.
Whatever was going on with them had been somewhat tempered by the conversation on the back porch. Ann’s eyes were slightly reddened from tears, Dave’s lined in exhaustion, but they’d held hands throughout dinner, and Kate had approved of the fact that Dave hadn’t left her sister’s side.
Ann didn’t have Kate’s asshole superpower.
It needed to stay that way.
Only one McLeod should have that particular ability, and it definitely shouldn’t be her sweet, lovely sister.
Nope, the