Page 34 of Secret Love

“Were any of you friends before you were on the team?” I ask.

I shiver and rub my hand over my arm.

“No, we only met once we were all with the Mustangs. Hang on a sec,” Henley says, standing up.

I watch, trying to keep my mouth from dropping when he takes off his hoodie. His long-sleeved shirt rides up for a second, giving me a glimpse of his six-pack. I swallow hard and give him a weak smile when he hands me his hoodie. He holds it out for me.

“Here you go,” he says.

I refuse to let my feelings trip over themselves just because a guy is chivalrous, but I’ve not had much experience with that, so it’s taking a concerted effort.

“That's so nice of you. Thank you.” I take it and he helps me get my arms in the sleeves.

I inhale deeply and sigh over how good it smells. Just like him. Leather and wood and something sweet.

“Much better.” I smile over at him and he grins back.

I melt.

“Good.” We stare at each other, a long, weighted look.

Is he feeling this overwhelming pull that I am?

I get chatty.

“But this has been the perfect day. This weather's been crazy, right? It’s not normally as warm as it was today, is it? Just cool like this at night,” I say it all a little too fast, but he just calmly shakes his head.

“I’ve never seen it this warm so early in the year,” he says.

“I love it,” I admit.

He leans in and I catch another wave of how delectable he smells.

“It sure was a surprise to see you here tonight,” he says softly.

“You’re probably sick of running into me by now.”

His eyes dance over my face, and the way the light from the fire highlights his chiseled jaw and those smiling eyes, makes my airwaves fluttery.

“Not even close, Tru,” he says. “Do you know how many times I’ve wished I could go back and redo that meeting in your classroom?” He shakes his head.

I give him a sideways glance, smirking, and he laughs under his breath.

“You did make up for it pretty well with those cinnamon rolls,” I have to admit.

“Oh, did that work?” he asks, laughing again. He scrubs his hand over his face. “I wasn't sure if that did the trick or not.”

“It did help.”

“Well, good,” he says. “I was a real jerk.”

“Yep.”

He makes a face and now I’m the one laughing. My marshmallow is perfectly roasted and I take a big bite, barely holding back my moan. I haven’t had one of these in so long.

“So, are you getting settled into teaching at the middle school? Liking Silver Hills, hopefully?”

“I love it,” I tell him, honestly. “We moved a lot growing up, so I’ve been looking for a place that feels like home. And besides Guatemala, even in the short amount of time I’ve been here, this is the closest I’ve come to feeling that way.”

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