The realization settled over me, quiet and undeniable. Not dramatic. Not earth-shattering. Just true.
I rubbed at my sternum. I should be terrified. I was a single dad with a business to run and enough baggage to fill a moving van. But watching her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, all I felt was an overwhelming sense of clarity.
This was real. This mattered.
Emily glanced up again, and this time her smile faded into something more questioning. “What is it?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring. “Nothing.”
She tilted her head, studying me with careful attention. “You sure?”
What was I supposed to say? That I’d just realized I was falling for her while she taught my five-year-old about color theory? That watching her with my daughters made me want things I hadn’t let myself want in years?
Not here. Not now. Not with Alice’s dragon scales drying on the table between us.
“Yeah, uh, just thinking about some work stuff.” The lie came out smooth. Easy. Thank fuck. I rubbed at my chest again and forced myself to focus on the girls. “How’s it going over here?”
“Look!” Alice held up her rock, now covered in red scales with white spots. “It’s a baby dragon!”
“That’s amazing, monster.”
Audrey was working on butterfly wings, her strokes careful and deliberate. “Emily says I’m a natural.”
“You are,” Emily said. “You have a very steady hand.”
I pulled out the fourth chair and sat down, close enough to be part of things but far enough that I could breathe. The girls continued painting, asking questions, showing off their progress. Emily kept answering, kept encouraging, kept being exactly who she was.
And I kept watching her, trying not to think about what the hell I was supposed to do with feelings this big.
EMILY
The soft rush of water over rocks and the occasional bird call broke the silence. I’d claimed this spot three weeks ago, tucked away down a dirt road that barely anyone used. It was perfect for painting without interruption.
My brush moved across the canvas to add depth to the water’s reflection, but my mind refused to settle on the landscape. It kept drifting to Cam’s text.
Working nearby. Want company for lunch?
I’d told him where I was and he’d said he’d be there in thirty.
That was twenty-eight minutes ago.
A low current of anticipation hummed under my skin. Deliciously wicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Cam looked at me when I was tied up for him. Or the way I felt when I stopped thinking and just let myselfbe.
I wanted more of that. Needed it.
The rumble of an engine made my pulse leap. I turned with my paintbrush still in hand as Cam’s truck rolled to a stop in the grass ten feet away.
He climbed out with a paper bag in hand, and my mouth went dry.
The man looked so fucking hot with his jeans hanging low on his hips and his dark blue t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. My fingers itched to do the same.
He walked toward me with that easy confidence that made my stomach flip. When he reached me, he threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling just tight enough that I had to tilt my head back.
“Hey,” he said, voice low.
“Hey yourself.”
Then he kissed me. Slow. Deep. Like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, I was breathless.
