She looked a little self-conscious. “I did say that. I might be changing my mind a little bit.”

I rubbed my jaw so I could hide a smile I didn’t want her to see. I didn’t know why that made me happy. But it did. Not that it mattered long-term. Filming a cleanup wasn’t the same as staying here. And she wasn’t staying.

I cocked my head back toward the lot. “So what’s the story, then?”

“It’s a story about Annie. A story about her legacy. It’s about taking care of one another even if your city or government won’t. Or can’t.” Her dark eyes stayed glued to mine. “And I believe it’s about family. And love. All the different ways that can look.”

That last part—about families. That was the kind of stuff we talked about at the Lavender Center.

“Who would you interview?” I asked.

“Only people who were interested and who felt safe and comfortable. Privacy is my main priority.”

I looked over my shoulder at my parents, who were laughing with Eddie and Alice. “You won’t have a hard time finding subjects. But I wouldn’t have to speak, right?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

I thought about the call with Harry again. He said my hesitancy to be in the spotlight was fine. That I’d get some kind of mentoring. An investment in my career long-term. I couldn’t dwell too long on how hypocritical that was, given their position on head injuries.

“Maybe…” I hesitated. “Maybe I should consider it. Because of the commentator job. If I got it and accepted it, I’d be in a live studio.”

“That’s a much bigger audience than I have,” she said. “I’ll be small potatoes to you by then.”

“That’s not possible, Tabitha,” I said.

We were motionless in the middle of so much movement: music, people talking, cars driving by. The air was still charged between us. It kept happening every time we were alone together. It was dangerous, like an accelerant.

A few crystals of cinnamon and sugar lingered on her lower lip. “You have some…” I gestured with my thumb toward my own mouth, and her fingers flew up instantly, brushing the opposite side.

I felt a muscle ticking in my jaw. What the hell else had I been missing?

“Can I?” I asked.

“Please do.” She tipped her face up. I slid the tips of my fingers around the back of her head and hovered my thumb over her mouth. I swiped it softly once, twice, across her bottom lip. The sugar fell. Our eye contact never wavered. Lust hollowed out my stomach, sent waves of desire surging through my limbs.