Page 51 of Twisted Paths

I swallow hard, my throat tight. “So… I’m your vicar-turned-detective?”

His mouth twitches. “Looks like it.”

I glance back at the words, at the way he sees me… not just as some passing inspiration, but something deeper. Something undeniable.

I turn to face him again, but he’s already watching me, his body tense with uncertainty.

Then, softly, he says, “You’re my muse, Nancy.”

My breath catches.

His voice is steady now, certain. “You’ve given me something I didn’t realise I’d lost.” His fingers drum lightly against the desk, like he’s searching for the right words. “Joy. Light. A reason to actually get up in the morning instead of just… existing.”

Something presses against my ribs, something terrifyingly warm.

“I want to see where this goes,” he continues, his dark blue eyes locking onto mine. “Because I’m not done. Not with you. Not with this.” He swallows. “I want more of your joy in my life. And maybe… one day… you’ll find me worthy of your love.”

I want to swoon and melt into a puddle right here, right now. His words make me feel giddy and excited, more excited than I have ever been.

I step closer, my body moving before my mind catches up.

Luke watches me, his jaw tight, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides, like he’s bracing for impact, like he half-expects me to bolt.

I don’t.

Instead, I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my palms.

He gives me a shy smile.

I move in closer, linking my fingers behind his neck, pressing myself against him, my forehead coming to rest gently against his.

His body stills.

Not pulling away. Not pushing forward. Just… waiting.

I exhale softly, my lips just barely brushing the air between us.

“I want to see where this is going, too,” I whisper.

His fingers skim along my waist, hesitating before tightening ever so slightly.

I shift closer, my nose grazing his, my heart hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears.

Luke exhales shakily, his breath warm against my skin.

And then, finally, he closes the space between us.

His lips brush against mine, a slow, careful kiss, like he’s still testing the weight of what we are… what this could be.

I press closer, fingers threading into his hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. His hands settle firmer at my waist, his thumbs tracing slow, absent-minded patterns against my skin. There’s something deliberate about the way he holds me, like he’s telling me without words:I’m not letting go.

A smile tugs at my lips, breaking the kiss just slightly. “You do realise that as my boyfriend, you now have to come to every Ramblers meeting, right?”

Luke stills, mid-breath, his forehead dropping against my shoulder with a quiet groan.

“Of course there’s a catch,” he mutters.

Laughter bubbles in my chest. I drag my nails gently through his hair, feeling the way he melts just slightly under my touch. “Fresh air, great company—”

---