“Potato sack racing.”

“Lame,” he said, lying back on the bed, keeping his focus on Sadie, who was sitting next to him, completely naked, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“It is not lame. Not for kids.”

“Three-legged race is better.”

“Unless you have to run with a boy who is stupid, doesn’t listen and stinks.”

“But what if you get to run with the cute girl that you have a crush on?” he asked, leaning in and kissing her shoulder.

“Did you have crushes?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Sure, didn’t everyone?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I kind of picture you like you sprang out of the ground wearing your uniform and a frown.”

“Your flattery is almost embarrassing.”

“Sorry if it didn’t sound complimentary,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you. Scratch that, I would be here, you wouldn’t be. And I would be alone.”

“Well, I wasn’t born in uniform.”

“And I wasn’t born running,” she said, smiling faintly.

“Life has a lot to answer for.”

“Sure does.”

She flopped backward, raising her arms above her head, and his eyes fell to the little silver scar on her side. A surgical scar. Sometimes he wanted to ask her about it, but ultimately, her medical history wasn’t really his business. So he didn’t ask.

“Where are you at on your big barbecue plans in terms of booths? We’ll put three-legged races to the side for now,” he said, shifting so that he was lying on his side.

“I’ve got pony rides. Cookie decorating, face painting. John from the Farm and Garden is going to bring over one of those mini-sheds that looks like a playhouse for the kids. And the pie eating. There will be pie eating.”

She ran her fingers through her hair and the temptation for him to do the same was too much. He wanted to pull her close. Play with the silky blond strands. Braid it. Which was not something he’d ever done for his lovers, but something about the idea appealed to him.

He wanted to take care of her.

He wrapped his hand around her hair, about to separate it into three separate sections, but she turned her head. He dropped his hands back down to his sides, the strange tightness in his chest dissipating a little.

He’d had a moment of temporary insanity. Sadie was good at doing that to him.

“What are you going to do about Alison?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, chewing her lip. “What can I do? I can buy pie from her. Hope she feels proud of her accomplishment. Hope she wants something different for herself, but really, there is nothing else I can do.”

He moved his hand over her breast, down over her stomach, his conscience tugging at him. “I told Connor,” he said.

“About Alison?” she asked, frowning.

“About you and me.”

She sat up, blinking. “Why?”

A damn good question. A weird impulse, as weird as the one he’d just had to braid her hair.

“I just... He sort of asked. Well, he tried guessing. He guessed I slept with you once, and I...corrected him. I’m not a very good liar.”

She leaned forward, covering her mouth, a giggle trapped behind it. “Oh, my gosh. No, I bet you aren’t.” She looked down at him, her hair sliding over her shoulders, over her breasts, covering pale pink nipples. She was such a tempting picture. Naughtier because she was smiling, because she was covered. He wanted her again. So soon. And it didn’t even shock him anymore. “You’re way too straitlaced.”

“I’m straitlaced?” he asked.

“Yeah, you kind of are.”

He pushed her onto her back and she shrieked, then he kissed her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath his lips. “How many straitlaced men do you know who can make you come so hard?”

He never talked to his lovers like this. Ever. Hell, he never really talked in bed at all. But she brought it out in him. He didn’t worry. He didn’t overthink. He told her what he wanted. And she loved it. And that did things to him. Things he hadn’t known he wanted to have done to him.

In truth, he’d never been this consumed by sex. Because his mind was always somewhere else. Because taking care of things was still in the forefront, but here, there wasn’t room for anyone but her and him.

“None. But then, I think this might be colored by the fact that I haven’t exactly tested the sexual prowess of every straitlaced man I’ve known.”

“Fair point.”

“I like that you don’t lie,” she said, her blue eyes on his. “I like that when I look at you, I feel like I really see you. Not just the man you want the world to see.”

That made him feel a little guilty. Since, in so many ways, he felt like he did just put on a good front. The man who seemed unruffled on the surface, hiding the festering pool of worry beneath. The gut-churning terror all the responsibility he took on built in him.

“Sadie...”

“No. If you’re going to tell me you have secrets, just don’t. Because I want to think I know. What’s the harm in thinking that for now? It’s not like this is forever.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

For some reason, her words and the agreement made his chest feel like it was full of lead.

“So let’s have the fantasy. You be the straitlaced badass who rocks my world. I’ll be comfortable here with you, trusting you. All well-adjusted and stuff.” She smiled and kissed his chin, wrapped her legs around his calves.

“Are you saying you aren’t well-adjusted?”

“Shh. In the fantasy, I am.”

“Are you drunk?”

“A little,” she said. “You won’t share the wine with me so it’s not my fault I have to drink more than normal.”

“Connor won’t tell anyone,” he said. He was sure of that. Because the information Connor had given in exchange was too precious. Connor wouldn’t want anyone to know how bad he was hurting. How hopeless he felt.