A laugh burst from her. “No, but you did pull my hair. And not in a good way.”
“And I’m pretty sure I stepped on your foot.”
“You did!” Her laughter grew, shoulders shaking. “I have a bruise!”
The vise around Walker’s chest loosened at the sound. He found himself chuckling too, the absurdity of it all suddenly hitting him. “Jesus, that was a terrible kiss.”
“The worst,” she agreed, wiping at her eyes. “Absolutely the worst kiss in human history. I’ve been avoiding you all week because of that train wreck.”
“Me too.” Walker rubbed the back of his neck. “Wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Sorry I attacked your face’ didn’t seem right.”
She snorted, an undignified sound, which only made her laugh harder. Walker joined in, relief flooding through him.
When their laughter finally subsided, Johanna looked at him thoughtfully. “It’s a shame, really.”
“What is?”
“That kiss.” She tucked her legs underneath her in the chair. “I’ve been wondering...”
His mouth went dry again, and his glass was empty. “Wondering what?”
“If it was that bad because there’s actually nothingbetween us anymore,” she said slowly, “or if it was just panic and bad timing.”
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Cowboy had lost interest in their conversation and was now snuffling through the snow.
“What do you think?” Walker asked, afraid to hope.
She bit her lower lip, considering. “I think,” she said finally, “that we should try again. Just to know.”
“Now?”
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“No, I...” He took a breath. “I want to.”
Johanna stood and crossed the short distance between their chairs. Walker rose to meet her, his legs unsteady beneath him. She stopped just inches away, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath.
“No pressure,” she whispered. “Just... let’s see.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He lifted one hand slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wanted to. When she didn’t, he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin.
This time, he didn’t rush. This time, he tilted his head just so, making sure their noses wouldn’t bump. This time, when his lips met hers, it was soft, careful, a question rather than a demand.
She sighed against his mouth, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. Her lips were warm despite the cold night, and she tasted faintly of apples from the cider. She made a needy sound in the back of her throat, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His free hand found her waist, steadying them both.
The fire popped and crackled behind them, wood smoke mingling with the sweet scent of her, filling his head. Cowboy barked once, then settled down again. The world fell away as they kissed beneath the Montana sky, under a million stars.
She parted her lips, inviting him in. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, drawing her against him until there was no space left between them. She made another soft sound—half sigh, half moan—that vibrated through his chest and settled low in his belly. Her fingers threaded into his hair, knocking the hat off his head, tugging gently as she angled her head to deepen the connection.
Time seemed to stretch and slow. His world narrowed to the soft press of her mouth, the gentle brush of her tongue against his, the warmth of her body against his in the winter chill. Walker lost himself in the sensation, the feel of her curves pressed against his chest, the way she seemed to melt into him with each passing second.
His hand moved up her spine, fingers tracing each vertebra until they reached the nape of her neck where her braid began. He cradled her head, tilting it back slightly as he explored the warmth of her mouth, tasting cider and something uniquely Johanna that he’d tried and failed to forget for five years.
She sighed against his lips, her tongue meeting his in a slow, dance that sent heat coursing through his veins despite the frigid night air. Her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, then down his chest, fingers splaying wide as if trying to memorize him through layers of clothing.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Walker rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to move away completely. Her eyes remained closed, dark lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted and swollen from his kisses.
“Well,” she whispered, her breath forming a small cloud between them, “I think we can safely say that wasn’t terrible.”
