Page 68 of Finding Gideon
It hit me all at once—the peace of it. The rightness. Not just the placement, but the bigger thing taking shape in my chest.
Nia’s voice called across the yard. “We brought extra sandwiches if anyone wants to join.”
I looked at Malcolm, my mouth already curving. “Guess it’s lunch.”
Dennis took off ahead.
Malcolm and I fell into step behind him, perfectly aligned.
Chapter 22
Malcolm
Sheets clung in loose twists around our legs, the way we’d curled into each other sometime in the night. The morning light had that soft, golden quality that made everything seem a little more subdued, a little slower. Gideon slept with his cheek pressed to my chest, his arm draped across my stomach, breathing steady and warm. One bare leg hooked over mine.
His body was smaller than mine, but solid in the way I’d come to crave—his weight tucked up against me, the heat of his skin, the shape of his body fitting into mine like he'd always belonged there.
I didn’t move, and I didn’t want to.
Instead, I watched the faint crease between his brows, the softness of his mouth. He looked younger in sleep. More confident, somehow. Like nothing could touch him here.
This wasn’t just about lust. The way he let himself soften around me—emotionally, physically—was a kind of trust I didn’t take lightly. And I wanted to match it. Not just in bed, but in how I showed up for him.
I wanted to do something for him, take him on a date. So I had to think of something simple. Something intentional.Something that said: I see you. I appreciate you. You matter to me.Something just for us.
The problem was, I hadn’t dated a guy before and the stakes felt different.
I sifted through ideas in my head—dinner somewhere upscale (too stiff), a weekend drive to the coast (too much, too soon), a concert (too loud, too crowded). He wasn’t an extrovert. More of a laid-back, take-your-time kind of guy.
I needed something quiet. Intentional. Thoughtful.
Apple picking came to mind.
Family-run orchard outside of town. Peaceful. Private. Quaint enough to feel thoughtful. And maybe a little cheesy. He’d like that. I was almost sure of it.
Gideon stirred, shifting closer. His nose nudged against my chest. Then a soft, sleepy groan. “Mmm. Why’re you awake?” His voice rasped, cracked with sleep.
“Because I’m old and my body hates me,” I murmured, thumb brushing the top of his spine. “But you look too comfortable to disturb.”
“Flatterer,” he mumbled into my skin. He yawned, nuzzling closer. “Are you always this nice in the morning?”
“Only when someone drools on my chest all night.”
He jerked back, eyes wide. “Idid not.”
A grin pulled at my mouth. “You totally did.”
He blinked at me for a second, then buried his face in the pillow with a muffled groan. “Rude.”
“You like it.”
He lifted his head enough to give me a lazy smile. “Maybe.”
I let the moment settle—his sleepy smile, his bare shoulder catching the morning light, the warmth between us still humming like it hadn’t faded during the night.
“Had a good sleep, though?” I brushed a thumb over his shoulder.
He nodded into my chest. “Too good. Don’t want to move.” He grinned against my skin, then kissed it. A small press of lips near my collarbone. “Are we staying in bed all day? Because I can be convinced.”
