Where is your phone?” was the first thing Jett barked at Andrew.

Andrew pointed to the flower van. “I left it in there.”

“I asked you to deliver a dish and our sympathy, not to stay and hang with the locals.”

Micah and I exchanged a glance.

“I’m sorry, I thought I should attend the funeral,” Andrew said in a quiet voice.

“Of a stranger?” Jett snapped.

“He wasn’t exactly—” Andrew started but was interrupted by the more powerful voice of his father.

“I have been trying to get ahold of you for over an hour. This total lack of regard for anyone but yourself is wearing on me, Andrew.”

“He just told you he went to a funeral. How is that selfish?” Once it was out of my mouth, I realized I should’ve kept it in there. This was not my battle, not anywhere close to it, but suddenly I’d just made it that.

Jett’s angry eyes turned on me. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

“When I see someone in the wrong, I give my opinion without it being asked for.” Great, there was no controlling my tongue now; it had a mind of its own. Micah nudged me.

“Andrew,” Jett said, obviously choosing to ignore me and my unasked-for opinion. “Gather your things and be home in thirty minutes.” With that, Jett got into the car and drove off.

I wasn’t sure why Jett had left without Andrew. Maybe my pushback threw him off. Maybe he didn’t want to ride in the same car as his now-seething son.

Silence stretched between the three of us until finally Andrew said, “Why did you do that?”

“Me?” I asked, when I realized I was the only person he could be talking to. Micah had remained silent through the whole encounter.

I looked at Andrew. I’d thought he was angry at his dad. But he was angry at me? “Because you weren’t saying anything. You were just letting him walk all over you, like normal.”

A muscle jumped in Andrew’s cheek. “I can handle my father.”

“It didn’t look like it.”

He faced me full-on. “You don’t know everything, Sophie, even when you act like you do,” he said.

“Ditto,” I shot back.

Then just like his dad, Andrew stormed off.

“Seriously?” I turned toward Micah, confused. “They’re both jerks.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Soph, come on. You did kind of overstep some boundaries there.”

“You heard his dad. He was treating him like dirt.”

“His dad was angry because he couldn’t get ahold of Andrew. You know how parents are.”

“He was degrading him like he always does. Like he does everyone.”

Micah sighed. “Well, you better go find Andrew and say you’re sorry.”

“You want me to apologize? I did nothing wrong.”

“Soph, just swallow your pride and apologize so we can leave?”

I whirled around. Why was everyone being so annoying today? And why was I having to search everyone out? I just wanted to go to a flippin’ funeral in peace. I had a mind to walk straight to the flower van and drive away. But I didn’t. Instead I circled Mrs. Lawson’s house angrily. Andrew wasn’t inside. I pushed through the back door, walked the porch, then the yard, and finally found him leaning against a shed.

“I’m sorry,” I spit out.

Andrew avoided my gaze. “Do you know what those words mean? Because you used them all wrong.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Can we just go?”

“Go ahead. I didn’t ask you to wait for me.”

“We drove here together.”

He was silent, his head down.

So stubborn.

“Am I that bad?” I asked, stepping closer to him. “I’m the only person in your life who’s ever told you that your dad is a jerk? I find that really hard to believe.”

He finally looked up at me. “It is none of your business. That’s the point.”

“Oh, but who Kyle kisses and how that relates to me is your business?”

“That’s not even close to the same thing.”

I stepped closer again and jabbed his chest with my finger. “It’s exactly the same thing. And if someone—even your dad—is talking to you like that when you don’t deserve it, then I’m going to call them out on it.”

Andrew grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from his chest. “And if you’re just going to pretend you’re perfectly okay when it’s obvious you’re not, then I’m going to call you out on it.”

“Fine!”

“Fine,” he said.

My eyes shot down to his hand holding my wrist then back up to his face. His blue eyes were intense, his lips slightly parted from the sharp breaths he was taking. And suddenly my body seemed to be on autopilot. I leaned forward and pressed an angry kiss to his lips.

He froze, and then so did I, our lips pressed together. Then all at once his free hand moved to the back of my neck. His hand still gripping my wrist pulled me closer, bringing my hand around his back. He tilted his head, deepening our kiss. I took a quick breath in through my nose as a jolt of electricity surged through my body. I wrapped my arms around him, my body against his. He rotated 180 degrees and pressed me against the shed, his mouth still on mine. This wasn’t allowed to feel so good. No. This couldn’t feel so good.

I wedged my hands between our bodies and shoved him away. He dropped his arms to his sides and stared at me for a moment. Then he twisted until his back was against the shed next to me. I tried to even out my breaths and I could hear him doing the same.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“You did it,” he said, and he was right. “You did it because you felt sorry for me.”

My brows shot down. “Don’t tell me why I did something.”

“Even if it’s true?”

“Especially if it’s true.”

He chuckled a little.

“Maybe you felt sorry for me,” I said.

“I didn’t.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he repeated.

“We should go,” I said, not moving.

“We should definitely go,” he said, not moving.

“Are you worried?” I asked.

“About you attacking me again? Yes, very.”

I smiled and a slight breeze picked up, providing some much-needed relief from the heat. The leaves in the tree across the yard rustled.

“About going home,” I said.

“See, I knew you did it because you felt sorry for me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I did it because everybody mourns differently.”

He laughed. “It’s not a bad way to mourn.”

“I’m beginning to see the merits,” I said, wishing that I wasn’t suddenly blushing.

“So you admit that I’m a good kisser?”

He was an amazing kisser. “I will never admit that,” I said.

He turned, one shoulder and the side of his head pressed against the shed. “My dad’s all I have. At the end of the day, it’s just me and him. I can’t afford to lose that.”

“He’s your dad. It’s not like he’ll stop being your dad if you say how you feel.” The second I said it, I realized that his mom had left for stupid reasons. That my dad had left, maybe not for stupid reasons but for reasons that I couldn’t control. Maybe blood wasn’t always the strongest bond. “I’m sorry I stood up for you …” I started to say. “Well, no, I’m not sorry I stood up for you. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Which time?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Just this one. The other times you totally deserved it.” I reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Today is all about one-time things.” I met his eyes, wondering if he understood what I was saying. That I wouldn’t yell at his dad again. And that regardless of how good it felt to kiss Andrew Hart, we couldn’t do it again. We were far from compatible. We’d proven that time after time.

He gave me a single nod.

“What are the odds that your dad would give me a referral after I just told him off like that?” I wondered out loud.

“A referral for what?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think my dad can somehow give you an in to the fashion industry?”

“He knows more people than I do. I thought that maybe …”

He raised our linked hands. “Is that why … ?”

I let go of his hand. “No! If I wanted to use you, wouldn’t I have started a long time ago?”

He ran both hands through his hair. “I don’t know, Sophie. I told you I’ve never had real friends before. It’s hard for me to know if I do now.”

“You do, Andrew.” And I meant it. “We’re … friends.” How had that happened? It seemed even more surprising than our kiss, somehow.

Andrew nodded slowly. “Can you come to the benefit in Birmingham in a few weeks? The one Mr. Williams is catering?”

I shook my head. “Every Occasion isn’t doing flowers for it. They hired someone closer.”

“I know. Come be a cater waiter with Micah. It will be fun.”

I let out a laugh. I wasn’t sure how fun it would be, but maybe I would go. I loved Birmingham. “Okay.”

“By the way, my dad can’t be your in,” Andrew said as we headed back to the flower van. “He’s like me. He doesn’t really make connections.”