“Now we’re talking.” My stomach grumbles at the anticipation of sweet rolls and cherry cream cheese Danishes. “Coffee?”
“You aren’t paying me.” Autumn backs away, her hand on the glass door. “But since it’s right next door, I’ll grab your coffee order.”
“Thanks, Autumn.” I watch as she grumbles under her breath and heads outside, allowing a bit of the chilly wind to drift inside. I have a love-hate relationship with the way I set this lobby up. On one hand, I love that the two sections remain separate, and on the other hand, I hate the draft of the lobby.
“Here.” Arlo grabs the box from me, carrying it into the kids’ space. “It looks amazing in here.” He nods to the ants. “Nice touch.”
“Thank you.” Preening at his praise, I look around the room again. It’s magical and perfect, and I just can’t wait to see how today goes.
“What put that smile on your face?” Leaning against a bookshelf, Arlo looks at me as though he wants to read every single one of my pages, and not just to absorb the information, but to devour it.
I want to know everything about him far more than I’m willing to admit.
“Want to know a secret?” I grab his hand, tugging him through the shelves and past the reading corner, complete with little mats and bean bags, and back to the corner of the room where a large tree sits.
“I want to know all of your secrets, Birdie,” he says far too closely, causing a cascade of shivers to ghost up and down my spine.
“This is my favorite part.” I pause before a little reading corner set in the hollow of a tree with green twinkle lights hanging from papier-mâché branches. I reach over and flick on the lights, watching as they illuminate the tree, then dance across the ceiling throughout the entire room.
I can feel my cheeks tugging as I smile at the lights that I pretend are pixies of lore, darting between the clouds hanging above and through the library. I can’t wait for the kids to see this place and feel the magic in the room.
I glance down at Arlo, who isn’t watching the lights but me. His expression is full of wonder and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time. Not the woman with freckles across her nose, or the wild curly hair, not even her button nose.
But the woman who lurks under her skin, the person she keeps close to her heart. The one who simmers below the surface with all of her hopes and dreams and fears.
My face falls, not in sadness or worry, but with a heat that blossoms across my senses.
In two steps, he’s in front of me, cupping my face and brushing his thumbs across my skin and under my eyes before they tuck my hair back behind my ears. My body vibrates with this moment, the promise of his kiss so close as his lips hover inches from mine.
I inhale his minty breath as his eyes search mine.
“Birdie,” he whispers, the tension rising between us. “I want to watch that smile light up your face every day.”
My heart skips a beat as his words sink in, seeping through my skin into my bones, where they find a home in my marrow.
“Be mine, Birdie.” It’s not a question, though he begs with his exhale.
“Arlo.” Yes, a thousand times, yes. I want to scream it to the world, but there’s so much more that I want to know about him, that I need to know. Not just the pull that drags us close like two magnets. Not to mention the tie I have to Maine that frays more and more every day I spend with him, threatening to snap the closer we get.
I no longer want that tie to tighten. I want it to snap and drag us closer together.
“Where do adults go in this town for a first date?” I say, surprising both of us.
His thumbs slide back and forth across my face, caressing my cheeks. “Third date.”
“I beg to differ.”
“The day you stood in front of my truck with a skunk in your arms was our first date.”
“We’re back to that?”
“The second date was our hike.”
“I thought that was a non-date?”
“Call it what you will, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was our second date.”
I concede. “And our third? Tell me, what is so amazing about the third date?”
