Asa paused before getting in the car and looked at Amy, a small smile teasing his lips.

“What?” Amy narrowed her eyes and asked.

“You’ve got something in your hair,” Asa said, reaching out to pluck a tiny piece of confetti from her curls. “Looks like the victory fountain at the eighteenth hole got a little enthusiastic.”

Amy touched her hair self-consciously. “Is there more?”

“No, just that one.” His fingers lingered near her temple for a heartbeat longer than ...