His dark gaze captured hers, fathomless and searching, as if he were staring into the very heart of her. He swallowed hard, the movement of his throat betraying his nerves.
Her voice was a whisper, fragile but aching. “What?”
“I don’t want to feel like a fool or lose my temper because I can’t do this—because I want to.” His words rushed out, roughened with honesty. “I want us to find our way, but there might be setbacks… and I’m sorry if there are.”
Her chest squeezed. For Tate to admit weakness was monumental. It took a big person to admit you were flawed – but then again, weren’t they all? Nettie placed her hand over his, pressing it firmer against her cheek.
“You are safe with me,” she murmured, each word soaked with conviction. “We’ve both taken steps, made changes, and found ourselves here… so let’s keep going together.”
Relief softened his features, and for the first time since she’d opened the door, his smile reached his eyes. The corners crinkled, his whole expression shifting into something almost boyish.
“That’s why I want to kiss you now,” he confessed with a husky chuckle. “I want to have kissed you at least once, before you throw me out of your house for losing my cool.”
Her lips curved, her heart stuttering.
“Then don’t.” She touched his cheek, her fingers trembling just slightly as she rose onto her tiptoes. Their noses brushed in a playful nudge, making her laugh softly despite the thick tension between them. “I’ve got buckeyes, coffee, and more kisses if you keep yourself together and don’t become all pissy at me… it’s just knitting.”
“Says the woman who does this for fun,” he muttered, rolling his eyes skyward. His tone turned exaggerated, almost theatrical, before he groaned mockingly. Yet when his gaze returned to hers, the teasing faded into something heavier. More intent. “This is so much more fun though…”
The caress on her cheek deepened, his whole hand sliding into her hair. He cradled her head, tilting it just so, and lowered his mouth to hers.
Tate kissed like he lived—fierce, consuming, unapologetic. The kind of kiss that pulled the air from her lungs and sent her knees wobbling. She clung to his shirtfront, letting the world blur until there was only him.
But she broke away, gasping softly against his lips. “No.” Her protest wasn’t rejection, only a trembling hesitation. She searched his face, desperate to read the storm there. “I want to try this, to see if we fit…”
“Babe, I promise when it happens, it will?—”
She slapped her hand over his mouth before he could finish, already knowing exactly where his remark was headed. His eyes danced with humor, and sure enough, laughter rumbled out against her palm.
Her lips twitched. Oh yes, she knew him far too well.
“Behave,” she scolded with affectionate firmness, slowly pulling her hand away. “And come with me.”
“Wanna cover my mouth again, Sticks?” he teased, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
She chuckled, rolling her eyes, and grabbed his wrist to tow him toward the living room. The couch sat ready with skeins of yarn, the colorful balls tucked neatly into a long wooden bowl. It looked cozy, domestic and maybe even intimidating for a man like Tate.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, skepticism coating every syllable. “I mean, it’s perfectly okay in a relationship if you have your things, and I have mine. We don’t have to share hobbies.”
“Oh, I know.” Her grin widened as she guided him down onto the couch. “Now sit down, and I’ll grab our coffee.”
He dropped onto the cushions with reluctant heaviness, muttering under his breath. Nettie ducked into the kitchen, her heart thrumming with a secret she’d been waiting to share. She gathered the small surprise bag, balanced the two mugs of steaming coffee carefully, and carried them back into the living room.
Just as she entered, Tate guiltily dropped the knitting needles as though they had burned him. Nettie bit back a laugh at the sight—six-foot-plus stubborn hockey player looking guilty over yarn. Neither of them mentioned it, though his eyes flicked instantly to the bag in her hand, suspicion etched across his face.
“What’s that?” he asked, wary as ever.
She settled beside him, tucking her legs beneath her, the coffee warming her palms. “Get out your cell phone,” she instructed gently, fighting the grin tugging at her lips.
He didn’t argue, just dug it from his pocket and handed it over. She shook her head.
“You wanted it,” he started, watching her, but she only smiled.
“Take a selfie of us—together.” Her voice softened at the request, almost trembling. His eyes widened, throat working as he swallowed. She saw the exact moment he understood. His lips parted slightly, his entire body stilling.
“Change happens when things are different, remember?” she reminded him softly.
“So we’re doing things differently?”
