The question was soft, timid, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask it.

I shrugged. “He’s a football player. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just playing the part.”

I was surprised how easy that excuse tumbled out of me, and surprised even more when Shawn slid a little closer, one hand coming down to touch my knee gently. He waited until my eyes flashed to his, and I wondered if he could hear the way my heart accelerated at the feel of his hand on me.

“It means something if it hurts you.”

I melted at the words, at how sincere his expression was. It was a line straight out of a romance novel, further proving to me that Shawn Stetson was a bonified book hero. My lips parted to answer him, but then his eyes fell to my mouth, and any attempt at speaking failed me.

He stared and stared as I held my breath, and slowly, his eyes crawled back up to mine. That hand on my knee tightened, just a fraction, and he leaned in, just a centimeter, his lips on track for mine…

“There you are, Kitten.”

Shawn jumped back, tearing his hand from my knee and scooting a couple feet away on the bench just in time for Clay to round the corner. He wore a threatening grin, one he aimed at Shawn before it turned softer toward me.

“Clay,” I breathed, genuinely surprised as I hopped to my feet. I didn’t even need to, but I smoothed a hand over my skirt. It was apparently becoming my favorite nervous tic. “Shawn and I were just getting some air.”

“I see that,” he assessed coolly, and again, his menacing gaze slipped to Shawn. I watched, impressed, as his nose flared a bit, his jaw tight as he gave Shawn a once-over.

Look at him, playing the jealous boyfriend.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand. It all but disappeared in his as he tugged me toward the house. “Riley and Zeke want to play pong.”

I frowned. “But Zeke doesn’t drink.”

Clay gave me a look. “Riley will drink double for him.” He barely looked at Shawn as he said. “See you around, Steve.”

“Shawn,” he corrected, his frown just as severe, chest puffed.

Clay didn’t entertain him with a response, just threw his arm around me and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Look back at him while we walk away.”

I swallowed, doing as he said, and when my eyes met Shawn’s, he was watching me with a mix between gut-wrenching pain and passionate jealousy. He opened his mouth, but I tore my gaze away, back to face forward as Clay weaved us down the stone path toward the house.

“Why did you come get me?” I asked, glancing up at him. “It was going well.”