“Whoa!” She loses her balance, and her body lands right on top of me.
I have to smirk at fate giving us a hand. “See? Already in my arms.”
Brielle doesn’t move; instead, her nose tips up, and our mouths are dangerously close. I feel the magnetic connection between our bodies. It’s taking willpower beyond my known ability not to slam my lips onto hers.
I rake my fingers through her hair to cradle the back of her head. “Think about it, but I know you already feel your answer. I see it in your eyes, and I feel your heart racing.”
There is a glint in her eyes, they’ve already given me the answer I want to know. But my ears are waiting for her words.
She digs her fingers into the front of my t-shirt, and lucky me, her leg willingly adjusts so it’s hooked over my thigh.
It’s so perfectly clear to me. I’ve never seen her in a different light because she’s always been mine.
“Ford,” she pleads. “We are playing with fire.”
“I’d burn the earth down if it means we get a chance.” It comes out simply as my eyes stay fixed on her mouth.
I lean in to nuzzle my nose into her hair that smells of papaya.
“Row us back, Ford.”
“You haven’t answered.”
“I can’t think when we’re like this,” she says honestly.
“Because your body knows what it wants.”
She moves to return to sitting on her spot. She’s either burning from the sun or blushing, and I choose to go with the second option.
Brielle straightens her hair and avoids looking at me. “Row us back, please. I really need some space right now.”
Blowing out a breath, I grab the oars. “Only if you promise not to get in your car and leave.”
“I won’t. Either way, I promised to see Margo tomorrow.”
I begin to row and internally remind myself that I was voted MVP for four seasons straight because I’m always determined to win. And Brielle Dawson? She’s the only goal I’ve ever wanted.
* * *
Brielle isquick to march along the dock straight into the house. I let her go because I know when not to press.
Tying the boat up, I notice in the corner of my eye my neighbors Hudson and Spencer. Hudson is in his forties, looks like he drinks age-defying water, and is the head football coach for the Chicago Winds, and Spencer is home for a quick break from his baseball season because he has grand plans for his girlfriend.
I wave to them and meet them halfway at the point where the dock ends. Hudson has his baby girl Grace in a carrier, and she’s staring at me, arms and legs out like a starfish.
Spencer is quick to pat my shoulder. “Hey, man, Brielle is here?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“I thought Connor was at camp,” Hudson asks.
Spencer chuckles humorously. “He is. But Ford here has a scheme he’s playing out.”
Hudson looks between us. “Do explain.”
I rub a hand across my jaw. “Brielle is staying here… we are working out a few things.”
“Really? That’s great.” Hudson is enthusiastic.
