He looked down at the couch, then back at me with a sheepish grin. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Name one.”
“Airport terminals. My brother’s couches. Floors. That one time in college when I passed out in a bathtub after—” He stopped himself. “The point is, I would have made it work.”
“You would have been miserable,” I said, shaking my head. “And probably frozen solid by morning.”
Without warning, Kent flopped dramatically onto the couch, his long legs dangling over the armrest in a way that looked supremely uncomfortable. He patted the narrow space beside him with an exaggerated come-hither expression that was so ridiculous I had to bite back another laugh.
“Come here,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that made my stomach flip. “Let me show you how cozy this is.”
“Kent.”
Before I could finish my protest, he reached up and grabbed my hand, tugging me down onto him. I landed with a soft “oof” against his chest, and his arms immediately wrapped around me, holding me in place.
“See?” he murmured against my ear. “Perfectly comfortable.”
I tried to prop myself up to give him my best unimpressed look, but his arms tightened around me, keeping me pressed against him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “But you like it.”
I did. God help me, I really did.
His fingers traced along my jawline. I felt myself melting into him despite the awkward position. The couch was definitely too small for both of us, but I didn’t care.
“I missed this,” Kent said softly, his hazel eyes searching mine. “Missed you. Every single day.”
My heart did that annoying flip thing again. “It’s only been a week.”
“Longest week of my life.” His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and his gaze darkened. “I kept thinking about how I’d screwed everything up. How I might never get another chance to hold you like this.”
“You’re holding me now,” I whispered.
“I am.” His voice was almost reverent. “And I’m not letting go.”
Then he was kissing me, soft and sweet at first, like he was savoring the moment. I sighed against his mouth, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.
I pulled back. All I had was my instincts. I needed to look him in the eyes.
“Did you mean it?” I asked. The question had been nagging at me since he’d spoken to my family. I needed to hear his answer when it was just the two of us.
“Mean what?” Kent asked.
“When you said you can’t imagine leaving this place behind. All of it. Really?”
He cupped my face, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Not the farm,” he said quietly. “You.”
The words hit me, stealing my breath and making my heart skip against my ribs. There was something so direct about the way he said it. It was unguarded and honest. I felt my remaining defenses crumble a little more.
“Sylvie,” he continued, “I want your family to take my offer. I want to help you and Brom make this place everything you’ve always dreamed it could be. I want to stay here and build something with you.” He brushed a kiss against my forehead. “I want to stay with you. For you. Because a life without you in it isn’t a life I’m interested in living anymore.”
“For how long?” I asked.
I saw him take a breath like he was preparing to jump off a cliff.
“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I’m in love with you. Completely, utterly, head over heels in love with you. And I would never ask you to leave your dream behind. This place, your family, everything you’ve built here, it’s part of who you are. And me?” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. “I’ve never had a real dream.”
My heart hurt at that admission. How was that possible? How could someone go thirty years without ever having a real dream?
