Page 219 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“Like your hand on my boob?”
36: BURNT MARSHMALLOW REVELATION
JADE
––––––––
HIS EYES FLICKER at his hand cupping my breast so firm my nipples are hard.
His jaw tightens as tension ripples down his neck.
“Aw, shit,” he mutters, dropping his hand and welding it in the space between us.
His body fights the sway of the ride as his fingers curl around the bench seat.
“I’m sorry, Jade.”
His other hand grips the window frame so hard his knuckles pale. He sits rigid, his broad shoulders tense. His entire frame is stiff.
I’ve never seen this side of Hart. When we were young, he was reckless.
Height didn’t stop him.
Rules didn’t faze him.
Consequences didn’t scare him.
Boundaries didn’t exist for him.
Where did this fear come from? What have I missed over the years? So much. I’ve missed so much it’s overwhelming.
But one day at a time. One hour. One minute.
We have the rest of our lives to explore, and every second with him is a second chance I never thought I’d take.
“We’re in an enclosed cabin.” I soften my tone the way I do when a lost child is brought to the office. “We’re safe.”
“I don’t think we’re safe.” Hart’s eyes lock on mine, and I can see his genuine fear. “I think this was a bad idea. I gotta close my eyes and think of something different.”
His eyes shut tight like he’s retreating into a place that’s far away from here. He starts naming off scenes at the ranch, open fields, golden sunsets, and the low hum of cattle in the distance.
As his words fade into the air, I take a moment, just a brief second, to really look at him. Without the anger. Without the history between us clouding my thoughts. I let myself really see him.
He’s different now.
Bigger.
Bulkier.
It’s surprising, considering he’d been built to be a quarterback.
But the boy I once knew is long gone, replaced by a man with broad and defined shoulders that stretch the fabric of his shirt. His arms are thick, muscles rippling under the skin with each subtle movement.
The sun hits the contours of his face, and his sharp jawline is roughened by time. The stubble darkening his chin is fuller. He’s always had this strength in him, but now it’s so much more pronounced.
I suppose I’ve noticed all these things from afar, but it’s different today. It can really let it soak in and appreciate all that is him.
“Is it almost done?” His voice wavers like the lost children at the lodge before we locate their parents.
