Page 64 of Building What's Meant to Be

“Cindy Clawford?”

We both laugh and then look at the Persian cat with her swishy tail. She looks back at me like I’m a numbskull and then at Tinsley like she’s brilliant at finally figuring it out.

“So your name is Cindy Clawford?” I ask.

She purrs loudly.

Tinsley runs her fingers over the embroidered letter and gems then flips it over. She tilts her head and looks more closely. “This looks like a number on this side.”

“More like an abstract design.”

“No, look, this is a two, a seven, and a nine.” She goes on and reads two more sets of digits.

I grab a pen and paper and then write them down. “Could it be a code or a coincidence?” I ask absently.

“A code to what?” Tinsley says.

But I’m not sure because I’m overwhelmed by this unexpected woman of my dreams. She was talking about dreams and expectations. I didn’t know what mine were either, but itwas like my future, what I didn’t know I was waiting for, is sitting right in front of me.

The case, the town, none of it makes my pulse race the way her smile does, her laugh, her eyes.

Tinsley looks up at me and our gazes meet. A question vibrates between us. The answer is on my lips.

I incline my head and say, “Tinsley, you’re a surprise in my life. Summer rain on a sunny day.”

Her expression brightens and then dims. “Usually rain is considered an inconvenience. Ya know, the whole parade thing.”

“Not if you’re a farmer. Not if it brings a rainbow.” Everything I’m saying is strictly confidential. No one can know about these sweet somethings and that I mean them.

The distance between us flirts with inches instead of feet.

It’s impossible not to inhale Tinsley’s dewy scent which reminds me of lilies and fresh rain.

My fingers dance just above her shoulders, her arms, and back up again as if I’m afraid of what will happen when we touch.

Tinsley wraps her fingers around my biceps. “Cheese curls.”

“What?” My lips press together with a smirk because it’s obvious what we’re doing to each other.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” she breathes.

The rumble inside grows along with my pulse. “Hmm. I prefer to think of them as pie-ceps, considering Rhondy always pushes a slice on me when I go to the Starlight.”

Her giggle turns into a ragged inhale as she catches her breath. “You smell good,” she whispers.

“You said that out loud too,” I reply.

“I did?” Her voice takes on a dreamy, detached quality like we’re both floating dangerously toward the same place. “I did,” she repeats, a statement rather than a question.

Sight, smell, touch...I can’t help but wonder what she tastes like. I brush my lips across hers then come back and lingerbriefly before pulling back so I don’t fully kiss her. It’s the softest press of lips, the logical progression from her hand earlier then to her wrist.

She sighs and then presses the pads of her fingers to her mouth. She hides a smile, but it reaches her eyes.

I’ve never been the kind of guy to take it slow, but I want to savor every moment with Tinsley. I don’t want to rush through the first kiss or make her feel like I’m just passing through. That goes for every first, second, and third too.

No, I’m here to stay. I’d like her to as well.

“That was some smoosh,” she says, breathy.

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