"Of course. Let me help you."
He takes Mabel, hoisting her securely into his baby sling, while I take the bassinet and the two bags of accessories that come with her. I follow him out to the bow, silently debating whether it'd be better to apologize for wrecking the mood or simply say nothing.
We step out onto the pier, and he gestures to take the bassinet and bags from me.
I shake my head. "Let me walk you back to yours."
"Oh. Okay. Thank you," he says politely.
I bet he's secretly wishing for this to be over as soon as possible. It's not long until we reach the cream hull of his compact cabin cruiser.
"Thank you for dinner," he says. "That was very kind of you. And I'm sorry to hear you're going through a rough time."
I manage a weak smile. "Yeah, well, I'm not the only one going through shit. We're all carrying some sort of pain or trauma, aren't we?"
His eyes lock onto mine, and even in the fading light, the intensity almost knocks me into the water.
"Yeah," he murmurs, then crosses the gangway onto the cruiser.
He takes a few steps, stops, spins around, and before I know what's happening, he's right in front of me, his hands are in my hair, and his lips are on mine.
9
Vaughn
What the hell am I doing???
10
Clayton
I have no idea where this has come from. All I know is Vaughn's warm lips and tender touch are a balm my fragile, raw soul has been desperately needing.
It's not a long kiss, not even a proper kiss really, because the second my lips part, he jolts back.
Mabel, who is strapped to his chest, gurgles, providing us both with a very convenient excuse not to look at one another.
As surprised as I am by what just happened, I'm the first one to look up. He follows a few—okay, maybe more than a few—seconds later, lifting his head, his eyes clouded over with…regret?
Wait, no.
Maybe…lust?
Because I'm pretty sure that kiss wasn't a cultural thing, something Montanaian men do to farewell each other. It may have been short—over in less time than we’ve spent gawking at each other, but I'm sure of one thing.
For the first time since my breakup, I feel a little more alive, and a little less broken.
11
Vaughn
"What are you doing?"
Clayton's voice stops me, mid-scrub. He's blocking the morning sun, so when I look up, all I see is a giant wall of man.
A giant wall of man who I kissed three nights ago and have been avoiding ever since, which is a little hard to do since he walks by the front office where Mabel and I are stationed at seven a.m. every day. So I had to improvise. And what better way to do that than by attending to some long overdue cleaning items?
I point the stiff-bristled brush and hose toward him. "Scrubbing algae off the pontoons and hulls. Not a glamorous job, but somebody has to do it."
