And it gives me the strength to move closer.
Near enough to feel the heat of his body, to smell the spicy hint of his cologne, to see the small scar he has beneath his bottom lip.
To search his eyes and find no hint of a monster within.
“Like I said,” he murmurs, staying in place as I get close, as I find myself lifting my hand to his face again, brushing my fingers along his jaw.
Even raspier than before.
Stubble that won’t take much to turn into a full beard.
“Like you said what?” I press when he doesn’t go on.
“You’re not stupid.”
He shifts, just slightly, bending so he’s leaning into my touch, and it’s not fear I’m feeling.
Our bodies are close, but our lips even closer.
If I rose on tiptoe, just an inch, maybe two, I could kiss him.
And that…
I find that I want that a lot.
But even as I’m working up the courage to do precisely that, he turns his head, lips gliding oh so lightly over my palm.
I gasp, but he’s slipping away, going back to the trunk, and pulling out my spare.
In less than a minute, he’s positioning the jack. “Kylie?” he calls.
I shake myself. “Yeah?”
“What’s going on with that show of yours?”
My lips twitch. “The best show in the history of all shows?”
He laughs as he starts cranking, lifting the car, drawing my focus to his strength, his competence. “If you say so.”
“I think you said so, considering you asked about it.”
“I’ll neither confirm or deny,” he says as he loosens the lug nuts and makes short work of changing the tire.
But as he falls quiet, I fill the silence.
With talk about the awesome show.
And more.
Because when he asks, I tell him about my terrible crochet projects (I’m working on a turtle that looks very much…not like a turtle), about my kids and the shenanigans they get up to, about the new games Damon and Joey want to try out next Game Night, about the little hiking trail near my apartment where I like to clear my mind.
Eventually, he finishes with the tire and stores it in the trunk—where I know it will just need air and to be swapped back out for the spare.
Then he comes back over to me, mouth hitched up on one side. “All set.”
“No more tires,” I murmur.
His half smile turns into a full…and it’s so beautiful my heart skips a beat. “Goodnight, Kylie,” he murmurs back before getting into his car.
