Page 56 of If All Else Sails
Even though Josie is very affectionate with her family, I’ve noticed her flinch or pull away from the touch of strangers or people she doesn’t know very well. Especially men. It’s one of the reasons I’ve rarely touched her over the years, keeping my distance, trying to respect her space.
That distance has been obliterated in the last few days.
Butthis...it reminds me of our fight over the doctor’s notes. It’s playful, with a current of attraction running between us that’s different. New.
At least on her side.
Me? It’s been my best-kept secret for years.
Too late, I realize Josie still has one free hand. Her fingertips find my ticklish spot again, and I tense. But with a tiny smirk, she ghosts her fingers over my ribs. A threat. Or a tease.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn.
“Oh yeah? Or what?”
Or I just might kiss you.
The desire to do just that crashes over me in a wave. And before I lose the control I’ve built up with years of practice, I release Josie and push myself back into a seated position. Giving her—and myself—some much-needed space.
She sits up too, scooting back until we’re both seated on the floor, facing each other. The dim moonlight casts her skin in silver and shadow.
Beautiful.
“How are you feeling?” she asks in an even tone. Like I imagined the intensity of that moment. “Your fever didn’t come back, did it?”
“Do I feel feverish to you?”
She was just plastered to my body, but she reaches out, gently touching the back of her hand to my forehead before pulling away. “Nope. But I wasn’t asking because you felt hot. I was asking because you were...different. Like you were the other day. A little less...”
“Stubborn?”
She gives a little snort. “No. I was going to say lessgrumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy; I’mreserved.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” She doesn’t give me time to answer. “Are you going to let me help you up now, or do I need to tickle you again?”
In answer, I stand in one swift motion, using only my uninjured leg to push myself up. Then I hold out a hand to Josie.
Am I showing off? Maybe a little.
Do I regret it? Nope.
Josie’s eyes widen slightly before she frowns at my outstretched hand. “Seriously?”
“You think I’m not able to help you up?”
“But your foot...” She trails off as I wiggle the appendage in question, which is hovering an inch above the hardwoods.
“I can stand on one foot and still help you up.”
To prove my point, I grasp her hand, wincing slightly as the splinters remind me of their presence in my palm. I tug her up, keeping my weight fully on the one leg, trying to ignore the pinpricks of pain in my hand.
Josie makes no move to step back, and without my crutches, I can’t.
I’m not sure I would move anyway.
“What’s wrong?” Josie asks, frowning.
