Page 87 of Only With You

“Do you like it?” he apprehensively asks.

If it weren’t because I was in shock, I’d make a joke about me making him nervous, but I’d hate to ruin the moment. I might also be seeing things because surely Landon isn’t nervous.

“Like it? I love this. It’s so cute. Where did you get it?” I raise the mug, tracing the belt around the ghost with my finger.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I don’t probe, because it doesn’t matter where he got it from. He bought me a mug. Landon Taylor bought me something again.

My heart is doing thatthingagain. Beating erratically hard for no reason.

“Thank you.” When I smile, I see the tension in his shoulder dissolve.

His throat bobs and fingers brush his chain. “Don’t thank me. I know it’s not much, but I mean it. I’m really sorry.”

I know he means it, because he’s here of his own will. He didn’t have to buy anything for me to know he meant it, but it means more than he’ll ever know.

“It’s not much?” I scoff, bringing the mug to my chest, and his eyes follow, then lift to meet mine. “My mug obsession has no bounds. You want to make me happy? Just buy me one of these and I’m set. Especially mugs like these.”

I mean, it’s a ghost dressed like a cowboy? How can he think this isn’t enough?

Landon’s lips flatten, almost like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Are you really…happy?”

“Are you kidding me?” I don’t bother hiding how giddy I feel and let my lips stretch wider. “I’m not only happy, I’m…I’m…youdocare half a fuck about me.”

That night is a blur, but I still remember things, particularly the way his breath fanned my back as he pulled the knot with histeeth and a few things he said to me. Like not caring half a fuck about me as he picked me up.

“Shut up. I mean—fuck, sorry, it’s so?—”

“Weird being nice to each other?” I roll my lips together to stop myself from laughing, because it’s not just weird, but we’re so awkward. “It really is weird. I thought it was just me. I rather we just be…us, than be something we’re not.”

“Then, let’s just be us,” he supplies simply.

I exaggerate a sigh. “Oh, thank God! Being nice to each other was disturbing.”

He hums in agreement. “Disgusting.”

“God-awful.”

“Unsettling.”

“Never again.” I shake my head, doing my best not to smile.

A glint of amusement glistens in his eye. “No, never again.”

Silence surrounds us, and for the first time, it’s not awkward, tense, or just plain weird. It’s comforting.

I try to think of what to say next, but something in his eyes shifts. His fervid stare causes a riot in my stomach, and by riot, I mean an invasion of frenzied butterflies to break loose.

“Apology not accepted. It’s not enough,” I say to cut through the hot tension submerging us.

His mouth pops open and his brows draw together, staring at me, taken aback.

“You’re a pain in my arse. What will make my apology enough?”

My lips lift into a coy smile. “You on your knees.”

His brows quirk upward and his eyes drop below my waist. It sounded really good in my head, but now that I’m really thinking about it, I should have put more thought into it.

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