Page 79 of Knot in Bloom
We finish lunch talking about safer topics—vendor schedules, setup logistics, the weather forecast for next week. But underneath the practical conversation, there’s a current of awareness that makes every casual touch electric. When Reid reaches for the salt and his fingers brush mine, when he leans closer to examine my notes and his shoulder presses against mine, my body responds like he’s issuing invitations rather than making innocent contact.
By three o’clock, I’m wound so tight I can barely sit still. Reid seems to notice my restlessness because he suggests we take a break from paperwork.
“Fresh air might help with focus,” he says, but there’s something knowing in his expression that suggests he understands exactly why I need to move.
We step outside into the crisp October afternoon, painted in the gold and crimson that makes Montana autumns legendary. Main Street is quiet in the post-lunch lull, most businesses settling into their afternoon rhythm. Walking beside Reid toward the small park at the end of the street, I should be thinking about vendor schedules and delivery times.
Instead, I’m hyperaware of everything about the man beside me. How his long legs eat up the distance with efficient grace. The way his expensive cologne mingles with something purely him that makes my mouth water. How his hand hovers protectively at my lower back when we navigate around a rough patch of sidewalk, never quite touching but close enough that I can feel his warmth.
“The town looks different from this perspective,” he says, studying the storefronts with the same analytical attention he probably brings to architectural projects. “Like a postcard, but real.”
“That’s exactly what it is.” My voice sounds breathless even to my own ears. “Real life that happens to be beautiful.”
“Like you,” he says quietly.
The simple words hit me harder than elaborate compliments ever could. Heat floods my cheeks as his meaning sinks in.
“Reid.”
“I know.” His voice has dropped to that rough tone that makes my pulse race. “I know we’re in the middle of Main Street. I know anyone could see us. But I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”
The blunt honesty should embarrass me. Instead, it makes something wild and needy unfurl in my chest. He’s done being careful, being polite, pretending this tension between us doesn’t exist.
“What are you going to do about it?” The words slip out before I can stop them, bold and challenging in ways that surprise us both.
His hand finally makes contact with my lower back, and I can feel the heat of his palm through my sweater. “Depends. What do you want me to do about it?”
We’ve stopped walking, standing in the shadow of the old oak tree that marks the entrance to the small park. Anyone could see us from Main Street, but somehow that only makes this more thrilling.
“I want you to stop being polite,” I breathe. “Stop pretending you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
His smile turns knowing but controlled. “And what am I doing to you?”
“Making me forget I have a festival to prepare for and kiss you.”
The admission hangs between us, honest and hungry. The park stretches before us, empty except for a few scattered leaves dancing in the breeze. No witnesses, no interruptions.
“Sadie.” My name sounds like prayer and warning combined.
“Yes.”
Reid steps closer deliberately, his hand moving from my back to cup my face. “I’ve been thinking about this for hours. About kissing you.”
“Then stop thinking.”
He leans down slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. I don’t want to. When his lips finally meet mine. When I moan into his mouth, he deepens the kiss but maintains that careful control, like he’s savoring every second.
“Sadie, you’re incredible,” he breathes against my lips when we finally break apart.
The confession sends heat racing through me, but before I can respond, he’s stepping back slightly, his breathing controlled but eyes dark with want.
“We should stop.” His hands still frame my face but he’s no longer kissing me. “Not here. Not like this.”
“Reid—”
“I want this. I want you. But you deserve better than a desperate kiss where anyone walking by could see.”
When we finally step fully apart, we’re both breathing harder than the simple kiss warranted. My lips feel swollen, my hair is slightly mussed, but there’s something tender in how he smooths it back into place.
