“They did put us in the same room.”

I huff out a laugh. “Mom cornered me at dinner last night and told me she’d given us the other suite to ‘appease the bride,’ then warned me of the risks of pregnancy and the struggles of her patients who have babies out of wedlock.”

His eyes are wide—perhaps the slightly horrified look of a man who’s wondering if there’s a shotgun wedding in his future. “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her that I’m a virgin and I’ve never so much as kissed a boy, and how exactly are babies made again?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I did. She didn’t think it was funny, sadly.”

He shakes his head and grins. I love when he smiles at me like this—as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. As if he wants nothing more to get me alone and kiss me in a way that has nothing to do with pretending we’re together. Is that wishful thinking? Do I want him to want that?

“Regardless, I’m having a good time. And I’ll get bonus points with Brayden when I can tell him about Howell’s new sour,” Carter says.

I grin. “It’s like you’re a secret agent.”

“Oh. My. God. It’s him!” Someone screeches behind us. “I told you it was him.”

“He’s even hotter in person!”

We turn on our stools to see two women standing right behind us, cameras at the ready.

“Can we get a picture?” the shorter of the two asks, flipping her curly, golden hair over her shoulder.

Carter smiles, and I notice no one but me seems to see the way he pales. “Sure.”

“I’ll take yours and you take mine,” the second woman tells the first.

They squeal and squeak, fawning all over Carter as they get pictures of themselves hanging on him. He doesn’t pull away from their touch, but he stiffens every time they stroke down his arms or press against his chest, and he grows even paler when they croon about what a hero he is.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” he says after a few minutes, “I’m on a date with my girlfriend.” He nods to me, and the girls look stricken—kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Oh, wow. We’re so sorry. Your boyfriend is the reason we came to Jackson Harbor,” the shorter woman says.

“We live in St. Louis. I actually have a golden retriever puppy just like the one you saved,” the other says. “We’re huge fans.”

“Jackson Harbor is beautiful this time of year,” Carter says. “Enjoy your visit.”

The women giggle their whole way out of the bar, and when they’re gone, I scoot my stool right next to Carter’s, close enough that I can lean on him and loop my arm through his. All I want is to ease the haunted ache I see in his eyes.

I close my eyes and feel him lightly comb his fingers through my hair.