Page 50 of Matthew
He didn’t say a word, just leaned in and kissed her again, unhurried, grounding, needed.
Her fingers gripping the front of his damp shirt, and for a heartbeat that seemed to stretch a lifetime, they simply breathed the same breath.
When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed.
“I’m glad I stayed,” he said quietly, brushing a damp curl from her cheek, “with you.”
She opened her eyes slowly, then gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah,” she murmured, “me too.”
After a few long beats, she turned back to the box and flipped the latch. Sammy sniffed at the corner, the storm bringing him new smells.
Matthew stood behind her as she checked the panel. “You think it tripped?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said, flicking the main switch.
The lights blinked twice, then steadied, casting a soft glow over the shop’s interior.
Callie let out a laugh, light and relieved. “Well, look at that.”
“Must’ve been the kiss,” Matthew said, only half joking.
She turned her head and gave him a dry look, but her mouth tugged up at the corners. “You taking credit for power restoration now?”
He shrugged. “Only the emotional kind.”
Her gaze softened before she shook her head and stepped further into the building, water dripping from her shirt as she walked. “Come on. Let’s not catch pneumonia.”
Matthew thought about reminding her it was the middle of a Texas August and not much chance of that, but he stayed quiet as he followed her inside. The scent hit him as the door closed behind them—warm soil, various flowers, andher. That same wild sweetness that had haunted him since the first day she’d looked right through him with those sharp, mesmerizing eyes.
It was the same scent that had lingered on his fingers after he’d held her as they’d danced the other day. The same one that filled his lungs now, curling down into the places she’d already branded. Not perfume, just Callie. Real, raw, and unforgettable. And damn if it didn’t light up every memory and want tangled up in his chest.
She moved to a shelf near the counter and pulled two shirts from a stack of simple cotton T-shirts, branded withMorganCreek Nurseryin green script. One was sage, the other a burnt orange.
Callie glanced toward the front corner near the register. “Camera’s probably back online.”
“True.” He nodded. “You don’t want to give Carter a show.”
She snorted. “Or my employees.”
Then she moved to the little side nook near the bulletin board, out of view. A second later, she peeled her shirt off without ceremony, wringing the hem out over a nearby sink before tugging the dry one over her head.
Matthew’s mouth went dry.
She didn’t make a show of it, didn’t have to. The curve of her back, the damp ponytail now back in place and brushing her spine. The flash of toned skin before the soft shirt dropped into place all rooted him to the spot. Need flared so fast, he felt sucker punched by it.
She turned around and tossed the orange T-shirt at his chest. “Your turn.”
He caught it, eyeing the print. “‘Plant Daddy’? Really?”
She smirked. “You’d wear it well.”
He huffed a quiet laugh and reached for the hem of his own soaked shirt. It clung like shrink-wrap, and by the time he got it over his head, his hair was a mess, and his skin prickled in the air-conditioned room.
Callie didn’t look away.
He saw in her eyes a flicker of interest she tried to play off as casual. It lit him up all over again.
“You checking me out?” he asked, a grin tugging his lips.
