Page 44 of Hero Mine

“She’ll run,” Bear said, his voice rougher than he’d intended. “Still needs work, but she’s solid.”

Joy beamed, and the sight hit him like a physical force. It was the same smile he’d known all his life—open, genuine, lighting up her whole face—but somehow different now. Deeper, maybe. More certain.

Without thinking, he reached out and smudged away a streak of purple paint on her cheek. His hand lingered, his thumb brushing against her skin.

Joy stilled, her eyes locking with his. The air between them suddenly felt charged, electric with possibility.

Bear could list a hundred reasons why he should step back. They were friends. She was still healing. The timing wasn’t right.

But then Joy leaned into his touch, just the slightest bit, and all those reasons evaporated.

He moved without overthinking, cupping her face between his palms and tilting her chin up. Their lips met in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened as Joy’s arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer.

She tasted like coffee and something sweet, and her body fit against his like it was made to be there. Bear slid his hands to her waist, steadying her as she rose onto her toes to press closer.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Bear rested his forehead against hers. “Let’s take this back to my place,” he suggested, his voice a low rumble. “I’ll make you dinner.”

Joy laughed softly. “You don’t need to wine and dine me, Bollinger. I don’t need romance.”

Before today, he might have thought that was true. But not anymore.

“Too bad.” He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re going to get the romance anyway.”

Because if there was one thing this new version of her food truck had shown him, it was that there was a part of Joy that appreciated beauty, elegance—romance. A part she’d kept hidden, maybe even from herself.

She deserved it all. And he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

The evening light was already fading, the sun dipping behind the distant Teton Mountains, painting the sky in shades of purple not unlike her truck.

“Fine. Not dinner, then,” he conceded. “How about a romantic dessert?”

Joy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh yeah? Exactly what sort of dessert is sexy?”

Bear slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Anything I get to watch you put into that sexy mouth of yours.”

The blush that spread across her cheeks was new and fascinating—another facet of Joy Davis he was only now discovering. And as he leaned down to kiss her again, Bear realized he wanted to discover all of them, one by one, for as long as she’d let him.

Chapter13

The steps leading up to Bear’s apartment loomed before Joy, worn wood bathed in the golden glow of the porch light. She stood at the bottom, fingers curled into fists, her breath misting in the cold night air.

She wanted to be here. She did. She wanted to be here more than she wanted her next breath. She knew he was waiting for her, just a few steps away.

Bear’s words from earlier echoed in her mind:Anything I get to watch you put into that sexy mouth of yours.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and not from the biting November wind. At the time, it had been all she could do not to throw Bear up against her food truck and ravish him. Health code be damned.

“Come on, feet,” she whispered. “Just move.”

But they wouldn’t. Despite being half in love with the man since she was eight years old, she couldn’t force herself to climb those stairs.

She and Bear had agreed to meet a couple hours after leaving the storage garage. Both had wanted their first time together to be perfect—not when she was covered in dust and grease from working on her truck. She’d wanted to be freshly showered, hair styled, wearing her prettiest matching bra and panty set.

Joy tugged nervously at the sleeve of her jacket. The downfall had started while she was getting ready. She’d showered inside her actual house—the only option since there wasn’t ever going to be running water in the playhouse. Then her stress had spiraled as she’d tried on three different outfits and spent far too long styling her hair, determined to look perfect.

But she’d stayed too long in the house, surrounded by reminders of what a wreck the place still was. What a loser she was for not cleaning it properly. For still living in her backyard playhouse like some maladjusted child.

“You’re ruining a perfectly good night,” she muttered to herself.

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