I smile into her hair and hold her tighter, letting her aftershocks ripple through both of us while my own heartbeat thunders with the three words I haven’t said yet.
Soon.
Her hand slides down my chest, down my stomach, stopping where I'm hard and straining against my jeans. She cups me through the denim, and I catch her wrist gently.
"Not yet," I say.
"But—" She pulls back to look at me, confusion and concern warring in her expression. "Brooks, don't you want me? Because if you don't—"
"Stop." I grasp her hand and kiss it. "I want you so badly I'm afraid I'll take too much. I'm afraid I'll rush this and ruin it." The confession scrapes out of me, raw and honest. "You deserve better than that. You deserve to know this matters to me. That you matter."
She studies my face like she's trying to understand a language she doesn't speak. Finally, she nods and nestles back into my chest.
Morning light shines through the windows. She smells like me now, a combination that makes peace I didn't expect fill my chest. Mine. She's mine. And soon, everyone's going to know it.
That evening, I pick her up at six.
When she opens the door in a top that hugs every curve, my lungs forget how to work. The fabric skims her body in ways that should be illegal. Her hair is loose, framing her face, and she's wearing lip gloss that makes me want to kiss it off immediately.
"You look beautiful," I say.
"Thank you." She grabs a jacket, and I help her into it, letting my hands linger on her shoulders.
The drive to Maggie’s Place in town stretches comfortably. My hand stays on her thigh the whole way, a possessive touch that's become automatic. She doesn't pull away. Just covers my hand with hers and squeezes gently.
The diner is busy when we arrive. It has a classic checkered floor, and something with a downtempo beat plays on the jukebox in the corner. I guide her inside with my hand on her lower back, and heads turn.
Sophie sits in a corner booth with Carla, another bookstore employee, and their eyes widen when they see us. Carla motions to Sophie, and they both lean in, whispering. Across the diner, I spot Elijah with Javi Mendoza, a mechanic close to his age from the base motor pool. He waves, grinning.
Good. Let them see. Let everyone know she's mine.
Elorie and I slide into a red leather booth. It’s cozy, and our knees touch underneath. "I love it here," she says, glancing around.
"You deserve to be surrounded by things you love." I reach across the table and take her hand. "You deserve everything."
Pink rises in her cheeks, but she doesn't pull away. Just laces her fingers through mine and smiles.
We order the diner’s famous Ridgeburgers and fries. Elorie tells me about the bookstore: Sophie’s plans to expand the patio, the new herb garden she's planting out front, the regulars who've formed a book club. Small dreams taking root. Building something real.
Halfway through dinner, a local named Linda appears at our table. She’s dated half the fire and rescue squad, but she’s not my type. Her smile is warm, but her eyes are sharp with curiosity.
"Brooks Maddox, I didn't know you were seeing anyone," she says, and there's a question underneath the statement.
"Linda." I nod to her, but I don't let go of Elorie's hand. "This is Elorie. She works at The Reading Nook."
"Oh, I know who she is." Linda's smile widens. "We just didn't realize you two were… together."
Elorie's hand tenses in mine, and I squeeze gently. Reassuring.
"We are," I say. My voice leaves no room for interpretation. "Very much together."
Linda's eyebrows rise, but she's pleased. "Well. Good for you both. You make a lovely couple." She pats my shoulder and heads back to her table, where Margaret, another serial dater, is practically vibrating with excitement.
Elorie exhales slowly. "That was—"
"Inevitable." I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. "Small town. Everyone knows everyone's business."
"Does it bother you? People knowing?"
