Page 14 of Meeting Up with the Consultant

Probably.

As I step into the sample room, my gaze snags on Kensie like a compass needle on North. Her forehead scrunches in concentration as she lifts some kind of webbing in her hands. Hair springs from her messy bun on the top of her head like maybe she’s been wrestling with the fabric and the fabric won. My pulse races like a hundred snorting moose chased me down.

Definitely crazy, but exploring what might happen with this amazing woman is an adventure I don’t want to miss. I just don’t know how it can be possible.

“Need help?” The door closes behind me with a snap.

Kensie startles, taking a deep gulp of air as she looks at me, then scans around her. I step further into the room that, now that my eyes are taking in more than just her, looks like a bomb has exploded. A low whistle blows from my lips.

“Man, what do you have going on in here?” My gaze pulls back to her. I can’t help it. Didn’t even want to try to stop.

She drops her hands with a defeated shrug. “I came down to put away a product I was photographing.” Her head shakes, and she laughs a small sound that seems more sad than funny. “I started reorganizing the sleeping bags and next thing I know I’m surrounded by this.”

Her arms spread wide to gesture but stop short from the tangled mess she holds. I step closer, placing one hand on hers. She gives me a quivering smile that nearly breaks my heart.

“When do you head out?” Her disappointment lingers on the words.

“Tomorrow morning, about ten.” I want to tell her what I’m thinking. Ask her if she thinks it’s as crazy as I do, but the words clog at the back of my mouth. Instead, I grab a section of webbing and lift it. “Let’s get this folded.”

“Thanks,” she whispers hoarsely, lowering her head to hide her rapid blinking.

I pull on the fabric, not able to speak. Not sure what to say. The webbing somehow has wrapped around Kensie and snagged in a sleeping bag zipper.

“Just a second.” I step around her, venturing deeper into her chaos.

I tug on the fabric, but it won’t budge. Kensie shifts behind me, lifting her foot over some kind of small winter coat. The next yank sets the fabric free, sending me stumbling into Kensie, still off-balance. I grab onto her, and we twist into a strange dance to keep from falling.

When we finally stop, wrapped up tight against each other like a burrito, a soft giggle shakes her body. I chuckle, the surprise of the commotion turning to stilted happiness. Her forehead presses to my body, just below my collarbone, and her palms flatten against my chest.

This. This is what I’ve missed in my life. I’ve searched for so long and finally found a connection. Have it right here in my arms. But keeping it seems near impossible.

I swallow hard and ease my arm from the fabric. “Are you okay?”

She tips her face up, a beautiful smile across her lips, and nods. Her cheeks are pink in amusement, her freckles popping on her creamy skin. Pushing her loose strands from her face, I pull her closer. Her eyes bounce from one side of my face to the other, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Harding?”

I catch my breathy name as it tumbles from her lips, kissing her with a desperation I can’t hold back. She makes a mewing noise, and her fingers twist into my shirt as she pulls me closer. I brush my thumb across her jaw, delving my hand deeper into her curls and tipping her head for a better angle.

I need her closer. Need more. Yanking my other arm from where it’s wrapped in the fabric, I throw us off balance again. We stumble toward the empty shelving, not once stopping our frantic exchange of breath. Almost crashing into the metal, I wrench my arm out just in time and catch us.

Kensie’s small hands thread up my chest and wrap around the back of my head, pulling me back to her lips. Not that I needed to be pulled. Body heating to supernova levels, I have never felt such an intense sense of right, like I hadn’t really lived before her.

Pressing a kiss where her jaw meets her delicate ear, I wrap my arms tighter around her. I never want to let go, and yet I leave tomorrow.

“Kensie,” I whisper her name, distress thick in the sound, and kiss the shell of her ear.

She shivers beneath my hands, pulling back to peer into my face. I open my mouth to tell her what I’m thinking when the door swings open and Wyatt steps in. Groaning in frustration, I glare Wyatt down as Kensie buries her face against my neck.

Wyatt stops short, his eyes wide as he scans the room before coming back to us. I lift my eyebrow and motion for him to get out.

“Oh. Sorry.” He fumbles for the door, the click of it shutting like a gunshot in the silence.

Kensie takes a shuddering breath, her head shaking back and forth against my skin. She pushes away, tearing at the fabric still wrapped around us and stepping free. I reach for her, my heart cracking at her swift change.

“I … I have to go.” She doesn’t even look at me as she darts from the room.

This time, the snap of the door bursts my heart to a thousand pieces.

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