Free One More Kiss by Kim Amos

box. “They came in just this morning,” she said, her voice tight. “Raspberry scented, like you wanted.”
    Betty held the package of markers out to Valerie. “Here you go. I hope you enjoy writ—”
    Valerie snatched the box out of Betty’s hands. Her face went from crimson to pale as she fumbled in her purse for cash. She all but threw the money down on the counter.
    “Let me get you your change,” Betty said.
    “Keep it. I think I’ve taken up far too much of your time today. You’re clearly very busy people.”
    Valerie gave Betty a quick once-over that reeked of condescension. Then, turning on her heel, she made for the door, her nose as high in the air as it could possibly go.
    Her exit was water on the flame that had been burning between Randall and Betty. He could practically see their passion flickering and faltering, hissing as it faded to cold smoke.
    Frustration and embarrassment raged until he realized that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. Valerie’s interruption gave him a chance to take a breath and think for a second. He willed his heart to stop pounding and his muscles to relax. Easy does it , he told himself.
    “So that was awkward,” Betty said, shaking her head. She walked back over to him, and there was a glimmer of laughter in her eyes. He could match it and crack them up all over again, just like with the banner, but he dared not. He needed to feel less right now—not more. He needed time to think about all this.
    “I think the word one might use is mortifying ,” he replied evenly.
    “Screw it,” Betty said, “you want to lock the door and keep making out?” She tilted her head, grinning, and his chest ached with her simple beauty.
    His reply wouldn’t come, though. When he didn’t answer after a few moments, she folded her arms across her chest. The playful spark in her eye was extinguished. In its place was doubt. “That look on your face is telling me you want to forget this ever happened at all.”
    “No, no,” he said, hating how well she could read him. “It’s not that.” But how to explain that he didn’t want to rush into something that they might regret later? They just had to take it slowly is all. They had to bide their time and not get carried away. They had to be thoughtful. They had to be respectable.
    Even though he wanted to throw respectable out the window and pull her to him and kiss her senseless all over again.
    He couldn’t, though. Shouldn’t, really. Not when driving headlong down this path might mean feeling that same recklessness he couldn’t control.
    “I enjoy your company very much, Betty,” he said, “but I wonder if we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”
    “Seriously?” Betty asked. The mixture of anger and hurt on her face had dread weighting his stomach. “Are you really going to push away something good and right between us because you made a mistake all those years ago?”
    “I’m not pushing it away.”
    “Well, you’re not about to stick around either. You keep looking at the door like Jesus himself is on the other side. You want to run toward it or just walk quickly?”
    He sighed with frustration. He was messing up this moment with Betty and he wanted to get them back on track. Except suddenly they seemed to be going in different directions.
    “This is new ground for me. Please, try to understand.”
    She lifted her chin. “I am trying. But as far as I can tell, you’re still punishing yourself for something that was never your fault in the first place, and that doesn’t make a lick of sense. Either that or you’re embarrassed because Valerie Lofgren is on your church board and she just caught you making out with me.”
    “No,” he insisted, “I’m not embarrassed. But Valerie’s interruption could be a good thing. It’s an opportunity to take a breath and get our wits about us. Here I was, tearing off your clothes and—I’m just saying, let me buy you dinner. Let’s go to a movie. Can we back up