She took off for the end zone, idly noticing a plume of dust approaching from the main road. Iris and her crew must be arriving.
A split-second of consideration was all she gave to the thought.
She wanted the touchdown.
Her bell was slapping against her sternum, ringing like crazy, announcing her intentions.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah approaching, and she zagged.
"Keep going!" came PJ's yell from somewhere behind her.
She could feel Noah breathing down her neck. The end zone wasright there. She put on a burst of speed and zigged, but he must've anticipated her move, because her momentum carried her right into his arms.
Her feet got twisted up, and she couldn't right herself.
She tried to cry out a warning, but it happened too fast. They both tumbled to the ground. Somehow he twisted, catching the brunt of her weight so that she landed mostly on top of him. She was so close that she heard his near-silent grunt and the whoosh of air he expelled as they hit the ground.
She planted her hands on his broad chest to leverage herself off of him, but his hands at her waist held her captive.
He was panting for breath, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. His eyes were half-closed. He didn't say anything.
Was he hurt? Had she injured him?
He still didn't say anything.
And then he grinned, the toothy smile of victory spreading across his face like the sun coming up. "You didn't cross the line."
She looked up. He was right. She didn’t know how he’d sensed it, but she was two feet short of the flags they’d spiked into the ground to mark the goal line.
"This isn't tackle football, buddy," she snapped. Though she couldn't help the amused quiver of her voice.
He dangled the flag he'd somehow stripped from her belt in front of her. "You didn't make it."
She looked past his annoyingly stubbled chin to see PJ with shoulders slumped and Casey dancing around him, singing something she couldn't make out. Lindsey was walking toward the house, distracted by a daisy she’d picked.
Jilly glanced back at Noah, who had made no move to dislodge her from where she was plastered against him. The flimsy flag fluttered a little, his elbow a stake planted in the ground. His other arm was a weight against her lower back.
She should move.
His thumb swept along her lower back. The smallest of movements, but somehow it mesmerized her.
His smile faded into something more intimate. "Jilly—"
But the slam of a car door interrupted whatever he would have said.
Her two nephews shrieked something about joining in the game. The moment was broken as Noah bodily set her away and then scrambled to his feet.
She pushed herself off the ground and straightened.
Noah spun on his heel, one hand gripping the back of his neck. Whatever warmth she'd read in his expression had turned into something like panic.
Her peripheral vision registered her sister and Callum approaching, but she couldn't focus on them now, not when Noah was so clearly upset.
"What do you need?" she asked quietly.
"My cane."
"Okay. It's here." She jogged to pick it up and brought it back to press into Noah's hand. "You don't have to run off. It's just my sister and Callum."
