“You didn’t answer my question,” I said softly. “Are you trying to put distance between us because of what happened?”
Her nose scrunched in frustration, and it was adorable, confusing, and distracting.
“I’m not trying to put distance. I’m trying not to… drown.”
That floored me more than it should have. Since I felt the same, and I knew exactly how that felt.
Finally, she exhaled, shoulders sinking.
“You don’t need me on the next few trips. You’re good at what you do. Really good. Honestly, you’re probably better off without me tagging along.”
“Sienna,” I said gently, “I’m not worried about my guiding skills. I’m worried about pushing you away.”
She looked at me again. “I don’t want to make this harder than it already is.”
“It’s only hard,” I murmured, “because we’re pretending it’s not happening.”
She sucked in a breath and looked away.
“Sienna.”
She closed her eyes.
“Sienna,” I said again, quieter now, “look at me.”
She did, and everything stopped.
The whole world pressed in close. The moonlight caught in her hair. A faint breeze lifted a strand across her cheek.
I reached out without thinking and brushed the strand away.
She didn’t move, but her breath hitched.
I let my fingers linger at the curve of her jaw for one heartbeat too long.
She whispered, “We shouldn’t—”
“I know.”
“We’re supposed to keep things professional.”
“I know.”
“This could get messy.”
“I know,” I said again, voice lower now, “but I still want you.”
Her eyes widened.
Thick and electric silence wrapped around us.
And it might have happened then.
I might have leaned in.
She might have swayed closer.
The distance between us might have dissolved entirely.
