Chapter Eighteen
Gage
Iknewif I sat next to her on my extra comfortable couch, I’d have wanted to get close to her. Touch her. Maybe even kiss her. But I can’t, so I do the right thing and take the chair.
Damn it, thissucks, because I’m having such a great time with her. I don’t remember the last time I felt this comfortable around a woman. There’s an ease about her that I can’t quite figure out, even though her life seems sort of sad and complicated––she’snot. She’s bright and happy and, like I said, easy.
Well, not easy inthatsense, at least not that I know of, but comfortable. I’m not saying any of this right.
Comfortable, Gage?Jesus, she’s not a blanket.
Clearing my throat, I ask her, “Have you read the books?”
“Oh yeah. Multiple times.”
“And have you seen the movies?”
“I have. They aren’t as good as the books, but I’ve seen them so many times now, they work.”
“Agreed.”
We both turn to watch the opening scene unfold. “God, I remember seeing this in the theater and holding my breath at this exact scene. It’s magical.”
I chuckle at her words. “Itismagical.”
“Smartass,” she says, leaning over the arm of my sofa in an attempt to slap my arm.
I beat her to it, though. When she’s about to make contact, I reach out and grasp her hand. When that happens, both of us freeze. She’s staring at our clasped hands just like I am. Without thinking, I intertwine my fingers with hers, and I’m not sure how to describe the feeling other than to say it feels right. Very, very right.
Thankfully, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, our joined hands rest on the arm of my chair for a good long time.
* * *
“Thanks,”Daisy says with a shy smile. “I had a good time tonight.”
“Me too.” We’re standing on my front porch now. The temperature dropped quite a bit since she arrived, so now she has her arms wrapped around herself. She’s shivering.
“Hang on.” I run back inside to my bedroom. Opening a dresser drawer, I pull out the sweatshirt on top. It’s an old army one, gray and a little worse for wear. Rushing back out to the porch, I hand it to her. “Here. Put this on.”
“Oh, no…,” she says hesitantly.
“No. Please. It’s too cold. Your dress is….” What? Flimsy? It looks like the fabric is light, and there aren’t any sleeves.
Reaching out, she takes it. “I’ll get it back to you.”
“No worries.” It is one of my favorites, but I can get another one.
“Thanks.” She smiles.
I watch as she slips it over her head and then down. The bottom of it falls past her hips, and the arms swallow up her hands. She’s adorable.
She scrunches up the sleeves, revealing her hands once again. I feel a hand on my shoulder and warm lips on my cheek. “Thanks,” she says as she turns to leave.
“Text me when you get home.”
“Okay,” she agrees but doesn’t look back.
“Drive safe.”
