Riley: Yeah?
Grant: I'm not sorry it almost happened.
Riley: Me either.
Grant: Get some sleep.
Riley: You too.
Grant: Not likely. But I'll try.
Riley fell asleep that night thinking about Grant's hands, his mouth, the way he'd looked at her in the darkness before the power cut out.
And wondering what would happen when she saw him tomorrow.
TWELVE
Grant
Grant had been awake since five.
He'd tried to sleep. Lasted maybe three hours before giving up and heading out to the barn with a thermos of coffee and his tools, trying to work off the restless energy thrumming through him.
Riley was coming at eight. For coffee. That's what they'd agreed on last night after the power outage had interrupted everything.
Now it was seven-fifty, and Grant had accomplished exactly nothing. He'd stared at the same piece of lumber for twenty minutes, replayed last night in the loft on an endless loop, and checked his phone approximately forty times.
She pulled into the driveway at seven fifty-eight.
Grant climbed down from the loft, brushing sawdust off his jeans, and met her at the barn door.
Riley looked windblown and beautiful—jeans, oversized sweater, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was holding two travel mugs.
"Hey," she said. "I brought coffee. I know you said you'd have some, but I thought—" She stopped, her eyes dropping tothe thermos sitting on his workbench. "Oh. You already made some."
"I did."
"So now we have four cups of coffee between us."
"Looks like it."
They stood there in the cold morning air, neither quite sure what to say. The barn was warmer—the space heater already running, morning light filtering through the high windows.
"Come inside," Grant said finally. "It's freezing."
Riley stepped past him into the barn, and Grant closed the door behind them, suddenly aware of how alone they were. Thomas had left for a supply run an hour ago. Wouldn't be back until afternoon.
"So," Riley said, setting her coffee mugs on the workbench. "About last night?—"
Grant took the mug from her hands and set it down next to the others.
"Grant, what are you?—"
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
Not gentle. Not tentative. A claiming, desperate,I'm done pretending to be patientkiss that made his point crystal clear.
Riley froze for half a second, then made a small sound against his mouth and kissed him back with the same desperate want. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.
