My heart races like I’ve run a marathon while I frantically process what’s happening.
We’re the only car on the road, and a giant tree branch has crashed onto the hood. The windshield is thankfully still clear, but one end of the branch must have skidded its way up because there’s a hairline crack traveling upward from the bottom of the glass.
For a heartbeat, all I hear is the engine ticking and my own pulse roaring in my ears. Panic claws its way up my throat as I turn to Romilly. Her eyes are wide, hands out in front of her as if to brace herself, and she’s breathing heavily.
I unbuckle and reach for her. “Are you all right?” Taking hold of her face, I bring her gaze to mine so I can inspect her eyes. As a fighter, I’ve had enough concussions to know what to look for, but it’s a little hard to focus with her face in my hands.
She pulls away and nods. “I’m fine, Bash. But you have a cut on your head.”
I turn to the dash, holding up my hands. “Why on earth didn’t the airbags deploy?”
“Who knows?”
I stare her down. “Are you sure you don’t feel dizzy? Are you bruised anywhere?”
Romilly places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “I’m fine. I promise.” She giggles. “It’s just a fallen branch, and thankfully it’s spindly. Your windshield looks a little cracked. But it’s not shattered or anything, see? It could have been way worse.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I-I shouldn't have taken my eyes off the road. I put us both in danger. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. We’re okay.” Romilly’s face softens as she stares at me, the humor melting away. I’m not sure what she sees, but whatever it is must be notable, because her hands inch toward my face from where they were resting on my shoulders. I don’t dare move a muscle as her gaze searches mine. I thought it was hard to focus while touching her cheeks, but to have her palms against my own feels like a dream.
Romilly stiffens and bites her lip.
She must be uncomfortable with how close we are right now.I’m about to back up and give her space, but then she looks at my mouth and blushes.
Does she…want me to kiss her?
Romilly leans in closer, and her lashes sweep down in a slow blink.
My pulse races as I pull her closer. For the briefest moment, our breaths mingle. Her lips are only inches from mine, but then she swallows hard and says, “We should probably get out of the middle of the road so there are no more accidents today.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re right.” But as I get out of the car and lift the wet, fallen branch from the windshield, I can’t make the disappointment fade.
We almost kissed. But she stopped it.
I try to think about something else the whole way to her place. When we arrive, she opens the passenger door to get out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“There’s no work tomorrow.”
“No.” She smirks. “But from what I hear, your sister is making brunch, so you can count me in.” And then she closes the door and struts to her front door without a backward glance.
I grin as I stare after her and watch her get in before I drive away.
She’s coming. Romilly is coming to brunch in the morning.
Ingrid will be thrilled.
And maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Maybe Romilly likes me more than I thought.
“Is it too late for you to call her and cancel?” Bright red spots appear on Ingrid’s pale cheeks, perfectly matching her copper hair.
“Will you just relax?” I shake my head at her. “You were excited only a moment ago.”
She stares at me like I’m swing-dancing in a hospital. “That was before you told me what an amazing cook she is.”
I don’t know why she’s so worried. The country potatoes Ingrid made this morning would put anyone’s to shame. And I can’t deny how impressed I was, watching her simultaneously whip up a delicious looking egg scramble while whistling a tune of blissful contentment.
But then I went and said, like an idiot, “It reminds me of the sourdough Romilly baked at her cottage.”
