Page 105 of Hometown Touchdown
She laughs, that soft, sleepy laugh that means she’s fully content. “Good.”
“You’re dangerous,” I say, nudging her nose with mine. “And beautiful. And entirely too smug.”
“Smug?” she echoes, feigning innocence.
I slide a hand into her hair and tilt her face up so I can see her eyes. “Yeah. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Her smile turns shy now, like the boldness has given way to something quieter. “I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You always do.”
We sit like that for a while. Just the thrum of our bodies cooling down, our skin still buzzing with everything that passed between us. The game film is still looping on the screen, butneither of us is watching it now. We’re wrapped in something warmer. Safer.
Eventually, she shifts and pulls the throw blanket over both of us, tucking herself into my side. Her cheek rests on my chest, and I feel her exhale. Like she’s letting go of something she didn’t even realize she was holding.
“You okay?” I ask quietly, brushing her arm with slow strokes of my thumb.
She nods. “I just…I feel safe with you.”
The words hit me straight in the center of my chest.
Not “that was hot,” not “thanks for letting me wreck you,” butsafe. That means more than anything she could’ve said.
I tighten my hold on her. “You are. Always.”
A silence stretches between us, but it’s the good kind. The kind where nothing needs filling.
“I love the way you talk to me,” she says after a minute, her voice barely above a whisper. “In the bedroom. Out of it. I don’t think I ever really understood how much I needed that. The way you…see me. Like I’m not too much.”
I rest my hand over her heart. “You’re never too much. Not for me.”
She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my chest, right over the fabric of my hoodie, and curls back into me like we’ve got forever.
Chapter fifty-one
Brynn
Thewholetownmust’vedecided to show up tonight.
Gordy’s is packed, more than usual. Tables are crammed shoulder to shoulder, the bar is three deep, and the string lights overhead cast a warm glow that makes even the neon beer signs feel charming. It’s loud, it’s buzzing, and for the first time, there’s a guy with a guitar on a small platform near the back, crooning into a mic like he’s auditioning forThe Voice: Small Town Dive Bar Edition.
But somehow, despite the chaos, I feel grounded.
I’m tucked into a corner booth with Knox across from me, Cam and Kate beside us. Kinsey’s behind the bar slinging cocktails like she’s in a speed round on a game show. Ty’s perched on a stool nearby, tossing peanut shells into Levi’s drink just to mess with him.
It’s warm. Easy. The kind of night that sneaks up on you and plants itself in your memory, a little Polaroid of everything feeling just right.
Except for the fact that Knox’s knee keeps slipping between mine and I’m trying very hard not to let my brain short-circuit.
He’s playing it cool. We both are. Sort of.
Which, frankly, is impressive considering the way his hand brushed against the small of my back when we walked in. Or the way he just leaned over to steal a sip of my drink, and I nearly blacked out from the proximity of his mouth to my straw. Or the text message he sent me, sitting right across the table, telling me all the filthy things he wants to do to me when we get home.
In short, this has been a tortured-filled evening.
Cam’s telling a story about a kid on his baseball team who hit a walk-off and forgot to run the bases, and we’re all cracking up when I catch Knox looking at me.
That look.
