Page 83 of More Than a Good Friend

That familiar Dag smirk is back. “Have I mentioned that I like the way you look without makeup?”

“That feels like a line. Or maybe I’m just not used to you saying those kinds of things to me.”

“You’ll get used to it. I plan to do it a lot.” He laces his fingers with mine. “Come on.”

I wait until I’m buckled in and he’s backing out to ask, “Where are we going?”

“Someplace where we can talk without being interrupted.” He nods toward the back seat. “I even brought lemon bars. Ava had a stash.”

If I continue pinching myself, people will think someone is intentionally hurting me. But I’m just trying to make sure I’m awake and not dreaming because this just keeps getting better.

Near the river, in the same spot I’d told him I loved him months ago, he stops. “This is a good talking place. Don’t you think?”

“It’s perfect.” I stay in my seat until he opens my door.

Then he drops the tailgate and lifts me up like he did that night we talked. “Marigold Flores, will you go out with me? Before you give me an answer, I want you to hear my reasons for why I think this will work. Why I think we should go on a date.”

There is zero chance I’m going to turn this man down, but I play along. “Go ahead.”

“Okay. Reason one, you love me, and there is only one other woman on the planet who loves me as much as you do, but I don’t have an Oedipus complex and have absolutely no interest in dating my mother. My dad wouldn’t like it either. And reason two is...” He cups my cheek and brushes his lips on mine. “I want to do this. And not just one.”

My arms are around his neck, and our lips dance, anticipation, excitement, and desire intermingling into smoldering passion.

He tosses his hat into the bed of the pickup and hugs me closer. Then his lips leave my mouth and cut a tingly trail along my jaw.

I let my eyes close as he continues the trail of kisses down my neck. I’ve heard that showing love is just as important as saying it, and right now, I believe every word of that.

He breaks the kiss, a twinkle in his green eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I want to go out with you.”

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and his gaze settles on my earring. “I want more than that, but we’ll start with a date.”

Goosebumps erupt on my arms. “Okay.”

Birds chirp and seconds tick by as we gaze at each other. When I admitted my unrequited love, it was dark, and I couldn’t truly see his reaction. But now, he’s smiling in a way that has his whole face lit up.

“When, Dag? When did it change for you?” I run a hand down the front of his shirt, craving the contact, the connection.

He holds up one finger, then walks to the driver’s side. Music plays, and he helps me off the tailgate. Then as if we’d done it a million times before, he slips an arm around my waist and grips my other hand. And we dance.

In the distance, the river is burbling. Wind is whispering over the tall grasses, and we dance.

He twirls me, then pulls me back to his chest. “The night we danced. When you walked across the room to take that call, it was as if I saw you for the first time. But I also realized in that moment that what I feel for you is more than friendly. That’s why I asked you out, but I sort of botched that.”

“I didn’t know. I thought you were offering me a pity date.” I replay the memory of that day, trying to understand how I misinterpreted the situation.

“Not at all. And your answer rattled me. It also made me think about things. Who I am. Who I want to be. What you deserve.” After another forehead kiss, he continues, “I apologize for not telling you straight away that Gabby is my cousin. I was trying not to interfere with you and Luke but still be near you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Two reasons—”

“I’m going to be really happy if the second reason involves a kiss.”

Dag grins. “Three reasons. One, you were dating Luke, and it seemed like a jerk move to mess that up. What if you really liked him? Two, I kept waiting for my heart to thumpity-thump like you said. But it just did its regular thump. You know what adds the thumpity?”

“What?”

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