“Then we’ll deal with it,” I say.
He leans across the center console and cups my face with one hand, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone as it always does, the way that makes my breath hitch in my throat.
“Eleanor Whitfield,” he says softly, “you are the most complicated, frustrating, surprising woman I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask, smiling.
“It’s the truth.”
His eyes drop to my lips. I feel the pull of it, the gravity between us.
“And I’m falling for you anyway,” he says, “against my better judgment, against all common sense. I’m falling for you.”
“I’m falling for you, too.”
We’re so close now, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face, close enough that all I’d have to do is lean forward just a fraction, and a car drives past, honking cheerfully, and we both jump apart like teenagers caught by their parents.
Wyatt drops his hand and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Does it seem like the universe really doesn’t want us to kiss?”
“Apparently not.”
“Well,” he says as he starts the engine, “I guess the universe can wait because eventually—October, November, whenever you’re ready—I’m going to kiss you, Eleanor Whitfield. And it’s going to be worth the wait.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He drives me back to The Rusty Spur as the sun sets over the mountains, painting them in shades of orange and pink and purple. I’ve never seen such beautiful sunsets as I’ve seen here in these mountains. There aren’t words to describe the peace I feel looking at them, like I’ve been lost my whole life and they’ve been calling me home.
Wyatt and I don’t talk much, but the silence is comfortable and easy, like we’ve just said everything we’ve needed to say for now.
When he pulls into the parking lot, he walks me to the side entrance, like always.
“Same time next week?” he asks.
“Actually, I have an idea. What if next Saturday we garden at your grandmother’s together, and then maybe I cook for you at my place?”
He looks pleased. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I can cook. I mean, I’m not at your grandmother’s level, but I’m competent.”
“What are you making?”
“Well, that’s a surprise.”
He grins. “I like surprises.”
“I know you do.”
We stand there for a moment, neither wanting to move, reluctant for this beautiful day to end.
“Thank you,” I say finally, “for today, for the waterfall, for sharing that with me.”
“Well, thank you for being there for my grandma and me. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m so thankful you and your pearls appeared in my life all those weeks ago.”
“I put the pearls away,” I say, laughing. “I promise to only wear them for special events.”
