Chapter 11

I laugh. “Please. I’m sure half the mothers of the kids in your class have sordid fantasies about you. I know I do.”

His hand covers mine where it rests on the gear shaft. His touch is warm, comforting. I’d forgotten how wonderful another’s hand could feel on my own. “I’m glad you said it first,” he admits, “because I swear I can’t get you out of my head. I didn’t want to be the only interested party.”

“You asked me out,” I remind him, “but I’m the one who said yes. Trust me, it isn’t just you.”