Chapter Sixteen
True to his word, Trace finished the dishes then pinned her to the wall, collecting thank-you kisses in private. Cecilia was more than willing to oblige. Even if he didn't make good on his laundry list of naughty innuendos, she liked kissing him. Too much. More than was safe. A girl could fall in love over kisses like Trace's. She placed a palm on his chest. "I should go." The reception was winding down, but it wasn't too late to catch a ride back to town with one of the Sinclaires or Hansens.
Trace drew back and brushed a knuckle across her cheek. It was a barely-there stroke of tenderness, an invitation to something more. So why did that movement make her heart race like a teenager? Her insides felt fluttery and jumpy.
"You look like you're going to bolt," he murmured,
