Page 91 of Offside Bride

The way his calloused hands move so tenderly through my wet strands, the soft hum of contentment that escapes his lips as he works—it’s all overwhelming in the best possible way. I want to bottle this moment, to keep it safe and revisit it whenever I need a reminder of what true happiness feels like.

I’m toast, folks. Utterly and irrevocably smitten with Sawyer O’Malley.

He thoroughly washes away the grime of this awful day, then when he’s done, pulls the plug to drain the tub. As the water goes down, suds sticking to my body, he hands me the shower hose.

“Here. Hold this.”

His attention to detail gives me all the feels.

Once the dirty water has drained enough, he turns on the faucet, making sure the temperature is comfortable before toggling the knob for the shower hose. His heavy sigh does not escape my notice while he rinses the suds off my body. I watch the foamy dirt swirl down the drain, along with my last excuse.

Sawyer wraps an oversized, soft towel around me and effortlessly sweeps me up again, but instead of taking me back to the bedroom, he cradles me to his chest and sits on the edge of the tub.

His eyes search mine, and I can tell he’s been thinking about what he’s about to say for a long time.

“I meant what I said yesterday, you know.”

I look up to him with a pretty good idea what he means, but I still want to hear him say it.

“About what?” I ask. “You said a lot of things yesterday.”

“That I love you,” he says softly and so matter-of-factly, he might as well be asking me to pass the salt.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he adds. “I screwed around with your feelings, and if you want to hate me forever, I’ll gladly take it as long as you let me love you enough for the both of us.”

Oh for heaven’s sake. He’s killing me. This man!

Still wrapped up like a cocoon, I shake my head. I want to scream at him, but I settle for a well-placed groan.

Sawyer takes in a sharp breath. “Maggie, I?—”

“Will you shut up, you big goober? I never hated you.”

He blinks. “Never? Not ever?”

“No,” I say, my heart feeling a little too fluttery. “I just…hated myself.”

Gosh, this is hard to admit.

“I hated myself because I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, keep from falling madly in love with you.”

His pupils dilate. “Wha…You…”

I nod, because finishing sentences is so overrated.

“Madly?” he says with that amused grin I want to gobble up.

“Furiously,” I say. “Infuriatingly.”

He gazes at me in wonder for a long moment. I wish I could reach out to touch him, but my arms are wrapped all snuggly in the towel, and it feels too warm and delicious to squirm out of it.

I think we might stay like this until the sun comes up.

But then, in a thick, smoky voice I’ve never heard out of him, he says, “If I don’t kiss you right now, I might die.”

“Love is sharing your popcorn.”

— CHARLES SCHULTZ

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