It’s nothing like the zipline—no rush of air, no adrenaline, just warmth. Her mouth is soft, sure, the taste of cider and something sweet I can’t name. My hand finds her waist, hers slides into my hair, and every reason I told myself this was a bad idea dissolves faster than the morning fog.
When she finally pulls back, we’re both breathless, grinning like idiots.
“That was—” she starts.
“Yeah,” I say.
She laughs quietly. “Maybe I’ll have to mention the Enchanted Forest in my article.”
“If you do, make sure to spell my name right.”
“Oh, believe me, I’d never spell it wrong.” She leans against my shoulder and my heart swells. “I probably knew how to spell your name before I could spell mine.”
She frowns, and her nose crinkles in the adorable way it always has when she’s thinking hard.
“Then again, in my defense, my dad did spell my name wrong on the birth certificate, which is how I became a Taegen instead of a Teagen.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a mistake, but a blessing.”
She frowns. “How’s that?”
“Well, maybe your dad knew you would be a fascinating woman who needed a name as equally fascinating and unique as herself.”
“Is that your nice way of saying I’m weird?”
“I’d never call you weird.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What would you call me?”
“Smart. Brilliant. Clever,” I say, my throat swelling. “And so fucking beautiful, you can drive a man to distraction.”
Her lips part. “Do I distract you?”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
Then, I duck my lips to capture hers in a kiss to show her just how distracting I find her to be.
SIX
TAEGEN
We’ve looped back toward the start of the new trail, and the fairy lights flicker overhead in strings of gold.
A breeze stirs the moss at our feet, whispering through the branches the way it used to when we were kids pretending dragons lived here.
I stop in the middle of the path and turn. “You really did all this in two days?”
Dylan shrugs, half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t sleep much. Figured if I worked fast enough, I wouldn’t think too hard about why.”
I tilt my head. “And why is that?”
He looks at me, steady and sure, and the space between us disappears.
His hands find my waist. Mine slide up the front of his shirt until my palms meet the heat of his skin through the thin cotton. The kiss that follows is inevitable—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.
The rest of the world blurs.
When he finally pulls back, both of us breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
