We stood close enough that if either of us turned the wrong way, we’d brush lips. The thought flashed through my mind so vividly my mouth went dry. My throat tightened. My heartbeat tapped hard against my ribs, a fast, insistent drumbeat.
My body knew exactly what it wanted to do with all that proximity.
My brain screamed danger.
“So… tomorrow?” he said.
The words snapped me back. “What?”
“For the trial run. My place.”
Right. That.
I swallowed. My voice wanted to shake. I didn’t let it. “Yes. Tomorrow’s fine.”
He smiled—a real one. Soft around the edges. A smile that did something delicate and devastating in the center of my chest. Like he was pleased, not just about the planning session, but about the fact that I wasn’t running.
Then Esmerelda picked that exact moment to bray loud enough to rattle my teeth, barreling through the barn like she’d been summoned by chaos.
“Esme—no, don’t—girl, watch the?—”
Too late. She shoved her head directly under my hand, demanding attention with the subtlety of a toddler.
I staggered into Powell’s chest.
His arm went around me, warm and solid. Familiar in a way it should not have been.
“Easy.” His breath stirred the hair near my temple.
My palms slid against him as I caught my balance, landing high on his chest, right under his collarbone. Up this close, I saw the darker stubble along his jaw, the tiny scar near his mouth, the flecks of gold in his eyes. Heat rolled off him like he’d been working hard, clean sweat and sawdust and soap. My whole body lit up like a Griswold Christmas display.
I should have pulled away.
I didn’t.
Esmerelda nuzzled my hip, unbothered by the emotional meltdown happening above her.
“She’s needy,” I managed. My voice was not normal. Absolutely not normal.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling under my hands. “She likes you.”
“She likes snacks.”
“Same thing.”
I eased away carefully, because if I didn’t, I might not at all. He let his hand fall slowly from my waist, his fingers brushing lightly at the end, like he wasn’t ready to let go.
Neither was I.
“We’ve got enough for today.” His eyes held a gentleness that hadn’t been there in high school. “You look… overwhelmed.”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t. My nerves felt like someone had hooked them up to the town’s Christmas lights.
He studied me, seeing more than I wanted him to. That was the problem with Powell—he’d always seen too much. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” I clutched my notebook like a life raft. “Tomorrow.”
