Page 54 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

His eyes darkened. “It hasn’t been easy. Far from it. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

All her emotions heightened to an unbelievable degree. A dusty attic was far from a romantic place, and she didn’t deserve his touch or forgiveness.

But all rational thought evaporated as his fingers lingered on her skin, finding a familiar path. All the years of being rational and analytical, of suppressing her memories and emotions seemed to evaporate like a morning mist.

Without thinking, without questioning, she rose to her feet. Then, on her tiptoes, she wove her arms around his neck, finding a familiar path, as well. Her pulse skyrocketed as he dipped his head, a question in his eyes. She should pull away. She absolutely should.

Instead, she met him halfway and brushed her lips against his. His kiss was like his touch, gentle at first, but she deepened it, and he responded.

It was just like she’d remembered and yet somehow a thousand times better. Maybe because now it wasn’t one of many, but the only one after fifteen years of longing and waiting. Every cell in her body responded to him, ecstatic, starved, and delighted. A delicious wave swept her up.

Once again, she was young, carefree, and filled with hopes and dreams. Once again, she believed happiness was possible and love could last. She went liquid like the ocean and refused to think, to know, to remember.

She clung to him like a sailor to flotsam after a shipwreck.Shewas the shipwreck, though, but right now, it didn’t matter because he’d always seen her only as beautiful and complete.

With each kiss, she drank him in, and yet she was more and more thirsty.

The growl of a motor approaching the street registered in the back of her mind, but she didn’t want the kiss to stop. She didn’t ever want it to stop.

Ever.

Chapter Eleven

HOW DID HE END UP INthis situation?

Dallas helplessly eyed the bright balloons, motley paper plates, gigantic banners, and a myriad of other items at a party supply store.

“What do you think of these paper bells?” Pairs of eyes belonging to Skylar and Mrs. Rafferty, respectively, searched him.

He mentally scrambled for the right word. “It’s... it’s nice.”

Mrs. Rafferty scrunched her nose. “Just nice?” She turned to her granddaughter. “Let’s keep looking.”

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