Page 93 of The Charm of You

But she looks like she belongs here, under the sparkling stars and moon.

The headlights cut off, and it’s like a signal for my feet to walk again.

As I sink down next to her against the lip of the bridge’s edge, I smirk. “If I recall correctly, this is my spot.”

“It used to be all yours, but now it’s ours.” She juts her chin up in defiance, and again, the filthy thought of spanking her claws at me.

“You just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

With a shrug, she playfully tosses back, “Only if I feel ever so strongly about it.”

Her deep inhale cuts through the silence of the night, and although I can’t see her as well as I’d like, I feel her.

Every time she’s near, I feel her before I’ve seen her. It’s like a buzz from two magnets in close proximity. A tug at my fingertips to reach out and touch her. An inkling to step into her warm presence.

Caroline leans into me now, and unruly wisps of her hair tangle in the scruff of my jaw.

“Kiss me,” she whispers not two centimeters from my mouth.

The firm connection of our lips instantly jolts me with a shot of adrenaline.

I bury my hand in her hair and deepen our kiss.

Before I have the chance to get carried away, she leans her forehead to mine and gulps, like she’s trying to find her voice. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

There’s an underlying layer of hesitation in her tone, as if this unspoken question is deeply important to her. Although the uncertainty of it is unnerving, I can’t deprive her of this.

I brush my fingertips along her cheek as my uneven breaths match hers.

It’s answer enough, and she whispers again when she asks, “How did your mother react to your father’s death?”

I jerk back as if she’s smacked me.

My heart rate kicks into high gear, and my tongue seemingly crowds my mouth, disarming me from speaking.

“I mean, I know she was devastated, but… I guess… What was her actual reaction?” she manages.

This is clearly difficult for her, and it’s no damn walk in the park for me, either.

Where do I even begin?

She dips her head, the top of which skims my shoulder. “Maybe Mama was right—we should talk about something else. Something more pleasant. I’m stuck on this one thing, but I should let it go.”

I release a rough exhale.

“It’s just hard not to think about Daddy since I’m here. Sapphire Creek was part of him, as it is me.” She holds onto my arm, pleading, “Forget I asked. I think it’s just coming home. The reunion too. It’s brought up so many memories.”

“We can talk about it,” I offer, but my tone is harsher than I intend. If she picks up on it, she doesn’t indicate as much. I shift with discomfort, and it’s not because of the hard wood underneath my ass. “Contrary to popular belief, I can be open and emotionally available. I’m not a cactus,” I say, my words clenched like my fists.

This causes a surprising burst of laughter out of her. “I’m sorry. That… just… caught me off guard.”

“Did the same to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Addie said I have a cactus personality, because in her words, I’m so prickly and some other nonsense,” I grumble. I hate the comparison, but I don’t mind how it makes Caroline laugh during a time when she obviously needs it.

“No offense, but Addie is wise. She’s not wrong about you.”

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