Page 53 of Moonlight Feels Right
"Hunter bought me all these books!" She gestured to the stack he was still carrying.
"I see that." Emmalyn laughed. "You're going to be very busy reading!"
"Nice job, Emmalyn," Paige interrupted. "You are so good at keeping the kids engaged."
"Thanks."
"Can Olivia join us at the playground for a bit?" Paige asked him. "The kids want to play before the ice cream social starts."
"Please?" Olivia begged, looking up at Hunter.
"Go ahead," he said. "I'll be right out."
As the children left with Paige, Hunter found himself alone with Emmalyn for the first time since Wednesday night. The classroom suddenly felt much smaller.
"How's it going?" she asked as she put away the books she'd just read. "Everything okay with Olivia? Have you heard from her mother?"
"Olivia is good. We're finding our rhythm. Haven't heard from Bree, which is disturbing. But she has to come back sometime, right?"
"I'm the wrong person to ask that question."
"How is your mom? Have you been spending time with her?"
"No. I've been busy getting set up for the book fair. I know she's still doing some tests, but she's hanging in there. My aunt says she's eating and sleeping better, so it's going well so far. We still need a diagnosis. Hopefully, that will come soon."
"I'm glad things are going well."
"Me too. It's still weird, though. Having her back in my life after so long." She met his eyes. "Life can change so quickly, in both bad ways and good ways."
"That's true. I certainly never expected to be taking care of a six-year-old, that's for sure."
"Olivia adores you, Hunter. You know that, right?"
"I'm not sure she adores me, but she seems to tolerate me."
"Her feelings are much stronger than that."
"I hope that's true," he said as their gazes clung together. "What about your feelings?"
She sucked in a quick breath. "I don't know what you're asking me."
"Yes, you do." He took a step closer to her, the tension building between them. "There's something happening between us. I know you can feel it."
"Maybe I do like you more than I thought I would. But you're leaving, so what's the point?" she challenged. "You're going back to your life, and I'm staying here in mine."
He couldn't argue with her logic, but he wanted to. He also wanted to touch her, to taste her sweet lips, to feel her mouth under his.
She must have read his mind because her eyes widened and her lips parted. Before he could second-guess himself, he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
"Hunter," she whispered, half warning, half plea.
He decided to only answer the plea and not the warning. He leaned down and captured her lips with his. The kiss was tentative at first, a question, but when she responded by sliding her hands up to his shoulders, it quickly deepened into something urgent and electric.
He backed her against the bookshelf, one hand cradling her face, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. She tasted like coffee and cinnamon and something uniquely her that made his head spin. All the tension that had been building between them—in the pool, during quiet moments at dinner, across crowded rooms—crystallized into this single point of contact, this kiss that felt both inevitable and surprising.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to move away completely. "Whatever this is—it's damn good," he murmured.
"That's the problem," she said, her cheeks flushed, her voice breathless.
