Page 59 of I Love a Good Challenge

The scent of his skin is already filling my senses, the anticipation of kissing him again almost more than I think I can bear.

“We’ve gotten close to this before. What if this is a dream?” The edge in his voice calls up emotions I’ve pressed down to the surface.

Under the warmth of the sun and amidst the swaying of the wildflowers surrounding us, it’s easy to slip into the hazy, dreamlike quality this moment is creating. Still, I can’t assure him this is real if I’m overwhelmed too. All I know is that I need him. And I don’t want to wake up either.

“Then you better make it a good one,” I whisper.

His breath hitches. I catch a glimpse of his eyes closing before his lips crash into mine. He’s not a man unsure or confused as to how best to love me in this moment. He’s a man who knows exactly how to undo me. He’s determined to figure out if all his theories and past research remain true.

This is what I’ve been missing: a man with the courage to pour out his heart with each press and pull of his lips, with each touch of his hands. He’s not taking. He’s giving. And this is the difference between Graham and every other man I’ve allowed to get close to me. He gives me life with his love and doesn’t wear me thin. When I see him clearly, I don’t question my worth. I don’t feel like I’m too much.

In Graham’s arms, I’m adored exactly as I am, and feeling this truth has me pulling him closer. I’m unable to think clearly, though I still sense the fog of loneliness clearing from my mind. The scratch of his beard across my cheek is a match. It’s a fire warming your bones after being in the rain. It’s lightning coming back to finish what it started.

I run my fingers through his hair. The light groan he makes causes me to melt toward the earth. My muscles relax, my frame taking a break from the pressure to feel strong. He holds me up, not bothered in the least that he’s making me dizzy with his attention.

Graham is all intensity, not taking a second for granted. When he releases our hands to pull me closer, never once pausing his kisses, his fingertips trace the length of my spine, trailing across my dress like a circuit board turning on after a power outage.

I match his energy, my disappointment in myself for letting him go finally taking a backseat to my desire for him to know me again. To remember how much I used to love undoing him too. We shift and move with each other as if we never lost a moment. I slide my hands to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer. I can’t get enough of him. If I taste like chocolate, he adds a hint of caramel—my second favorite kind of confection.

Minutes or hours pass, and I’m lost in him. We’re wildflowers dancing in the wind, thrown beside each other, trying to thrive. Like seeds that have sprung up and missed the sun, only finally to take their place in the light, we make each other blossom.

When we break apart, breath short and hearts racing, I run the back of my hand over his beard. I flash him a grin and stretch up to press a kiss to his cheek. Graham still hasn’t opened his eyes, so I outline his cheekbone in soft kisses, trailing to the soft spot beneath his ear, until I’m planting kisses down the side of his neck, his skin warm beneath my lips. It’s pure bliss, like wrapping your lips around a ceramic mug full of steaming hot tea.

“Lily,” he says, his voice gravelly and rich with love.

I lean my forehead on his chest to catch my breath. His head comes to rest on my own. One of his hands cradles my head close to him as I turn my cheek to look toward the field of wildflowers and the grass waving in varying shades of green in the wind.

“I know I questioned if this was a dream. But the truth is, I’ve been sleepwalking without you.” His voice hitches, a raspiness in it that wasn’t there before. “Thank you for waking me up.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Graham

When I awaken the next morning, I can still remember the taste of melted chocolate, caramel, and flakes of sea salt between our lips. The sun hits my eyes and reminds me that the storm has passed. The thought of her eating candy right before I picked her up to drive out to the wildflower field makes a smile cross my face. Of course she was. The woman is the chocolate queen, always with bite-sized bits of chocolate wrapped haphazardly and thrown into pockets, purses, and anywhere else she can store them.

When we were together those weeks in LA, I’d find the shiny wrappers sticking out in odd places, like she was a human disco ball of chocolate. I always had the urge to go on a treasure hunt to find them, and it was a challenge to force my analytical brain to tune out the desire whenever I hugged her. Suddenly, there would be a crackling sound coming from her clothes, and a wrapper—sometimes filled with chocolate, sometimes empty—would pop out of hiding. We’d laugh that I was at the scene of the crime for continuous confectionary murders.

Rolling onto my side, I slide up in bed and lean my back against the headboard. Swiping a hand over my face, I gift myself another thirty seconds of visualizing our encounter and committing it to memory. Will I ever forget how the ends of her hair danced merrily around her face, the scent of wildflowers swirling around us, or the vividness of her bright pink lips against the cloudy sky? When her eyes met mine, what once felt hollow was somehow filled.

I’m reveling in the memory all over again—a smile beaming on my face—when my phone pings on the bedside table. Though I shouldn’t let my hopes rise, my heart beats faster. Kissing her in the field of wildflowers convinced me that all sorts of things may be possible. I never thought we’d kiss again, and here we are. On the drive back, neither of us talked about it much—or at all—but just the fact that it happened must be a good sign.

Reaching for my phone, I rub my eyes to better grasp what I see. It’s a group message that includes Sparrow and Rafe.

Sparrow: Graham, I’m so sorry to ask, but is there any way you can check on Lily?

Rafe: I’m sure he’d love to check on her . . .

Instantly, my throat goes dry.

Sparrow: Something isn’t right. I’m covering the café this morning, but she texted me, and none of it made sense. Then, when I called her, she said she kissed you and hung up.

Rafe: My man, you kissed Lily? Does this mean you’re staying in Birch Borough for good?

I feel like I’m going to be sick but force my emotions back in check. Lily may be a wild card, but she isn’t the type to ever hang up on her friend. Rafe, however, is going to mysteriously need new guitar strings the next time I see him.

While I’m not certain what I’m signing up for, my feet are already on the floor. I type a hasty response to the group as I rush to gather some clothes.

Graham: Will be there in ten. I’ll send an update.

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