Or the real reason that recollection stuck with me?
Bree had to trust me to lift her up, bride-style, in order to unhook her ripped jeans from the barb. I could have put her down after that, but instead, I insisted she let me carry her back to the house with the excuse that walking would make it hurt more. The image of her clinging to me, of holding her close against me, has taken permanent residence in my head ever since.
I scoff. “You were barely scratched. Didn’t even need stitches.”
“I had to get a tetanus shot!” Her exaggerated expression is plain adorable.
Biting my bottom lip does little to suppress my grin. I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You were so pissed.”
“Those were my favorite jeans, and you ruined them.” She sounds breathy, flustered.
And I’m enjoying this way too much. I press my hand against my chest. “Me? You’re the one who tried to do rodeo tricks off the side of your horse.”
She leans in closer, giving me a hint of sweet floral, reminding me again of the honeysuckle bushes that grow wild on our property. “In case you’ve forgotten, Wade Pierce, you dared me.”
For a moment, I get lost in her eyes as she stares me down. A dark blue circle rims the lighter blue of her irises, making them appear backlit as if she’s filled with pure goodness and light.
I glance away for fear I’ll reveal something I shouldn’t. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”
The silence in the room shifts, feeling awkward.
Bree pokes my bicep as she whispers, “I almost nailed it, though.”
My gaze lifts, then gets snagged again with hers, much the same as that barbed wire did on her jeans. “I knew you could.”
Her lips part slightly, drawing my attention there for a moment and making me wonder what it would be like to kiss their softness and that freckle. Not that I haven’t thought about it a thousand times before, but this time feels more…real. Attainable. Although I’ve no idea why.
She jerks her gaze away and stares at her laptop screen. “Since I can’t very well share that memory for obvious reasons,how about I just put the aroma of your Nana’s baked bread filling the kitchen?”
My mouth fills with saliva and longing. I really should go home soon for a visit. There’s not enough time at Thanksgiving since we play the day before and after, but I could make a quick trip for Christmas.
Maybe Bree would want to come, too.
“And her chocolate chip cookies.”
She tilts her head back with a moan, which floods my head with inappropriate thoughts. “Those are the best.”
“Okay, one more. What’s your idea of romance?” Her fingers hover over the keyboard.
Her question confuses me at first because it’s so broad. So, I venture into dangerous territory and pull upon the things I’ve imagined if Bree were mine.
I lean my head back on my arm again and stare at the ceiling tiles. “Let’s see—a sunset walk on the beach, followed by her favorite ice cream. Cooking a special dinner and fussing over her for the rest of the evening and surprising her at work with her favorite treats. Having a hot bath ready for her when she gets home after a rough day. Buying her fuzzy socks for Christmas.”
When I glance at Bree, she appears stunned.
My shoulders tense. Did I overshare? Sound like a dork?
She blinks, then lets out a nervous chuckle. “I meant a date, not a relationship.”
“Then just the sunset and ice cream part.”
She swallows and nods. “Adorably cliché, but I like it.”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Bree flustered, and I likethat—a lot.
I give her a slow, deliberate smile, the kind that usually gets me in trouble. “Good to know.”
Her eyes flash with something I can’t read. Or maybe wishful thinking?
