Oh, shoot.
Millie groaned when she saw the time glowing on the alarm clock. Five a.m. And not a wink of sleep in sight. Her body felt wired, her mind buzzing like she’d downed five cups of espresso. Except she knew exactly what she was high on.
Evan.
She rolled onto her back and pressed both hands to her face.
I just had my first kiss with Evan.
The thought echoed in her head like she was replaying it on a loop. Every time it resurfaced, her stomach did that stupid fluttering thing again, and heat crept up her neck.
She wanted to scold herself—How did you let this happen? How many Moretti brothers do you plan on kissing before this job ends?—but the memory of his mouth brushing hers washed right over the guilt.
His hand on her cheek. That quiet laugh. The way he said her name, like
