‎And neither, Aria Bennett realized, was the tension that followed it.

‎The drive back to Maple Sky Inn felt longer than usual.

‎Caleb’s words echoed in her mind.

‎"Just making sure you remember who you're supposed to be with."

‎It had sounded like part of the act.

‎But it hadn’t felt like it.

‎And that was the problem.

‎The next morning arrived bright and clear, sunlight spilling through the tall windows of the Maple Sky Inn.

‎Workday. Renovation day. Safe territory.

‎At least it was supposed to be.

‎Aria stood in the middle of the dining room staring at the walls.

‎Half-sanded. Uneven. Ugly.

‎Perfect.

‎Because today... They were painting.

‎Footsteps sounded behind her.

‎Steady. Familiar.

‎“You ready?” Caleb asked.

‎She turned.

‎He stood in the doorway wearing worn jeans and a faded gray T-shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

‎A paint roller rested across one shoulder.

‎Her stomach did an inconvenient little flip.

‎“Yes.”

‎His eyes moved over the room.

‎“Good. We’ve got a lot to finish.”

‎Professional.

‎Normal.

‎Exactly what she wanted.

‎An hour later.

‎The walls were transforming.

‎Soft cream paint replaced the dull old yellow.

‎The room already felt brighter.

‎Warmer.

‎Alive.

‎Aria stood on a small step ladder working along the trim.

‎Caleb handled the large sections with long, steady strokes.

‎The quiet between them felt comfortable.

‎Too comfortable.

‎“You missed a spot,” he said.

‎She looked down.

‎“Where?”

‎“Right there.”

‎She leaned sideways.

‎“I got that.”

‎“No.”

‎“I did.”

‎He walked over.

‎Too close.

‎“Right here.”

‎His hand lifted toward the wall beside her shoulder.

‎Their arms brushed.

‎Heat shot through her instantly.

‎Ridiculous.

‎It was barely a touch.

‎Still.

‎She forgot what she was about to say.

‎He rolled paint smoothly over the spot.

‎“There.”

‎She swallowed.

‎“Thank you.”

‎He stepped back.

‎Not far enough.

‎She climbed down from the ladder.

‎“You don’t have to supervise.”

‎“I’m not supervising.”

‎“You are.”

‎“I’m preventing mistakes.”

‎She narrowed her eyes.

‎“I don’t make mistakes.”

‎He gave her a look.

‎“You almost painted the window latch.”

‎She glanced at the brush in her hand.

‎Paint hovered dangerously close to the metal latch.

‎She set the brush down.

‎“That doesn’t count.”

‎His mouth twitched slightly.

‎Almost a smile.

‎They returned to work.

‎But now... The air felt warmer.

‎Closer. Charged.

‎Music drifted softly from Aria’s phone on the windowsill.

‎Gentle acoustic guitar filled the room.

‎Comfortable.

‎Easy.

‎Normal.

‎She hummed quietly without thinking.

‎Caleb glanced over.

‎“You sing?”

‎Her humming stopped instantly.

‎“No.”

‎“You were.”

‎“I was humming.”

‎“Same thing.”

‎“Not even close.”

‎He shrugged.

‎“Sounded nice.”

‎Her cheeks warmed.

‎“Focus on the wall.”

‎“I am.”

‎Still.

‎He looked at her a second longer than necessary.

‎Later... She reached for the paint tray at the same time he did.

‎Their hands collided.

‎Both froze.

‎Neither pulled back immediately.

‎Her pulse quickened.

‎His hand was warm.

‎Rough. Steady. Too steady.

‎Then they both let go at once.

‎“You go first,” he said.

‎“No, you.”

‎Silence.

‎Then he picked up the tray.

‎“Thank you,” she said.

‎“You’re welcome.”

‎Too polite.

‎Too careful.

‎Too aware.

‎By midday, the room smelled strongly of fresh paint.

‎Sunlight slanted across the floor.

‎And they were both covered in small accidental streaks of cream-colored paint.

‎Aria wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist.

‎Big mistake.

‎Caleb stared.

‎“What?”

‎“You’ve got paint on your face.”

‎She froze.

‎“Where?”

‎He stepped closer.

‎Closer than necessary.

‎“There.”

‎His thumb brushed gently across her cheek.

‎The contact lasted barely a second.

‎But it felt longer.

‎Much longer.

‎Her breath caught.

‎And suddenly, They were standing very close.

‎Too close.

‎His hand dropped.

‎But neither of them moved.

‎The world narrowed to a quiet space between them.

‎His eyes held hers.

‎Steady. Warm. Intent.

‎And something inside her tightened.

‎Something unfamiliar.

‎Something dangerous.

‎Then he stepped back.

‎Just like that.

‎The moment broke. Again.

‎She exhaled slowly.

‎“Thanks.”

‎“Sure.”

‎His voice sounded rougher than before.

‎They worked in silence for a while after that.

‎Not uncomfortable silence.

‎Just... Careful silence.

‎Near the end of the day, Caleb stepped back and studied the room.

‎“Looks good.”

‎Aria followed his gaze.

‎The transformation was obvious.

‎Bright walls.

‎Clean lines.

‎New beginnings.

‎“It really does,” she said.

‎He nodded.

‎“You’re doing this right.”

‎The words warmed her more than they should have.

‎“Thank you.”

‎They cleaned brushes side by side at the utility sink.

‎Close quarters.

‎Elbows brushing occasionally.

‎Neither commented on it.

‎When they finished, Caleb grabbed his jacket.

‎“Same time tomorrow?”

‎“Yes.”

‎He nodded.

‎Then hesitated.

‎Just briefly.

‎“Try not to flirt with any furniture suppliers.”

‎She stared at him.

‎“You're impossible.”

‎“And you’re smiling.”

‎She turned away quickly.

‎“I am not.”

‎But she was.

‎He left a few minutes later.

‎And when the door closed, the inn felt quieter than before.

‎Aria stood alone in the newly painted dining room.

‎The walls glowed softly in the evening light.

‎Warm.

‎Inviting.

‎Hopeful.

‎Just like the future she was building.

‎Just like the relationship she wasn’t supposed to want.

‎Because the problem with proximity was that eventually... Pretending started to feel real.