Page 21 of Come Back to Me

Out in the parking lot, he pushes the cart faster, and I squeal, and we both laugh. I feel young, giddy, and weightless. The warm breeze whirls around us. It’s like summer has finally reached Colorado.

After we load our items into the truck, Leo drives around to the pick-up area, where two men are waiting with our new refrigerator on a dolly.Ournew refrigerator. It’s still unbelievable, and I feel like I should pinch myself to make sure this is real life.

Leo helps the men secure the appliance in the back of the truck. As he slides in behind the driver’s seat, confidence fills my veins. I’m in the mood to be a bit reckless. To take advantage of these precious moments we have for ourselves.

“Wanna stop for a bite to eat before headin’ back? I saw a burger joint on our way in,” Leo suggests nonchalantly, glancing my way.

I must look insane as I flash him a coy smile because he does a double take.

“What’s wrong? Are ya not hungry?”

Oh, I’m hungry.But not for food. Desire presses on my core and reverberates between my thighs. Biting my lower lip draws his attention even more. I shake my head slowly.

“Darlin’, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna park this truck and have my way with you,” he says teasingly.

But when I don’t shift my gaze from him, his eyes darken.

“Promise?” I shrug and dip my chin, the timidity beginning to seep in.

Tearing his fixed stare off me, he glances over his shoulders as he continues driving through the parking lot. “Hey, if ya wanna do it, here, now, I’m all yours, Sugar.”

The nickname purrs from his lips and sends a quiver low in my belly. But as much as I want to have his hands and his mouth on me, in broad daylight with traffic buzzing around, it loses its appeal quickly.

“How about we sneak away tonight and head up to the cabin?” I suggest.

“The bank tol’ us we’d get in a lick of trouble if we’re caught inside the cabin again.”

“So we won’t gointhe cabin. Let’s bring sleeping bags and light a fire. It’s supposed to be a warm night.”

We make eye contact, and his lips curl into an enticing smirk. It makes me want to smash my mouth against his right at this moment.

“Under one condition.” His brows lift.

“Anything,” is my response.

“We only bring one sleeping bag.” He winks, and goose bumps travel across my skin.

I sit in my seat in the uncomfortableness of my yearning for him. The anticipation of our upcoming night together burns between my thighs. I rub them together as I pinch my eyes shut and imagine his hand there.

The two-hour drive back to Maple Ridge is excruciating. But Leo’s company is delightful. I could spend a hundred years glued to his side and still probably never tire of him. The twang to his rugged voice. The way his laugh comes out sounding all throaty at first before it really bellows. His funny stories of growing up in Texas on his family ranch and pranking his little brother.

But my mind can hardly focus on any of those things.

The memory of his sandpaper chin scraping against my neck and his rough hands gliding over my bare back is front and center in my mind. The tender way he eased himself into me haunts me in the best way possible. After another night spent wrapped in his arms and giving myself to him, I worry all my thoughts will be consumed by him.

When we arrive at Pete’s parents’ house, we can’t unload the truck fast enough. Since we have the truck for the night, we stop by my house next for supplies for our evening spent outdoors at the cabin. Besides my sleeping bag, we grab pillows and snacks, and I borrow my dad’s lantern.

It’s dark when we reach the cabin. Leo gets the fire going while I set up the sleeping bag. He passes me an eager smile over his shoulder from where he’s crouching in front of the fire, and a shiver races down my spine.

“I got a surprise for ya,” he says, straightening.

The tops of my ears burn hot. “Yeah?”

Leo shuffles to the truck, and I sit on top of the sleeping bag while anticipation whirls in my belly. My jaw goes slack a bit when he returns with a guitar in his hand. There’s just something about a man and a guitar that gets me riled up and makes my panties damp. If a guy can not only sing but play guitar too, where do I sign up for a life spent with him?

Because I’d sign that contract in a heartbeat, I think.

“Well, isn’t someone sneaky,” I muse.

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