“Are you, uh, okay?”
I nod. “I’m good. Really good.”
“I’m glad.” He puts his lips to my forehead and presses a kiss there that I will feel for the rest of my life.
“We should get back,” he says.
I snuggle deeper into him, in no way ready to face anything else but this.
“Breakfast at eight.”
“And then the daily icebreakers.”
“The ice has melted,” he growls, which makes me laugh again, and then he tightens his hold and makes this pained sound. “You fucking fell me, Rae.”
I have questions, but I wait. He lets go of himself so rarely. I know better than to interrupt what he’s about to say.
“What is it with you?”
I don’t dare reply. My answer’s definitely not what he’s looking for.
A shuddery sigh against the top of my head, a kiss, and then the press of his cheek. “I’ve never wanted… this. All of it. I’m not made for it, you know?”
I nod. Not that I agree, but still.
“When you’re around, I get this… this…” He lets me go long enough to thump a palm to the top of his chest and then pulls me back into his arms again. “It’s like a… Hell. I can’t even explain. Like a pain. That feels kinda good?” He shakes his head and starts to move. “We better get back.”
“Wait.”
He looks down at me from where he’s now sitting.
“I, uh… I feel it too. The…” I awkwardly hug myself. It’s the only way I have to show where the feelings reside. “The good-pain thing.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “And I’m not a masochist.”
“We’ll see about that.” After a second, he smiles, helps me up, and shifts over to his seat. “Because you haven’t let me paddle you yet.”
We dock the canoe and go back to the cabin in silence. At the door, when I think he might kiss me good night, he just pauses and stares and then runs the tip of his finger down my nose to my lips. I kiss that finger. His eyes darken.
“Want to come in for a sec?”
We share another long look. I open the door wide and wait.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Grant
RAE’S CABIN IS Areplica of mine. Small, with lots and lots of plaid.
Suddenly awkward in a way I haven’t been since I was a kid, I put the blankets and bottle on the desk and take a stroll around the room, adding a log to the woodstove.
It’s rustic. Antlers on one wall. A patchwork quilt on the bed. “They’ve sure got the country cabin thing down, haven’t they?”
Rae’smm-hmis muffled. When I turn to see why, she is halfway out of her T-shirt.
