After dinner, Spencer helped with the washing up. That, somehow, felt even more intimate than dinner had. Standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, passing plates, drying cutlery on an old tea towel, moving around each other as if they had done it before.
This is how it should be,his bear said.
It should,Spencer agreed.
When the dishes were done, they took tea, and the candles into the sitting room. Spencer sat at one end of the old sofa they had uncovered, while Meryl curled up at the other, her feet tucked beneath her.
“Thank you for the table,” she said after a while. “And for staying.”
“Thank you for asking me to.” He took a sip of his tea.
They talked a little longer about small things — where the salvage-yard hooks should go, whether the rose by the gate would bloom well after being cut back, what still needed doing in the kitchen. But there was something else there now, and they both knew it.
Eventually, Spencer knew he had to leave, though every part of him wanted to stay.
He set his empty mug down and stood. “I should probably head out. My boss is a real stickler for an early start.”
“Is that so?” Meryl chuckled and rose too.
She walked him to the door, and Spencer was aware of every step that brought them closer to parting.
Now,his bear said.
At the threshold, Spencer turned to face her. The moonlight cast a soft glow over her face, catching in her hair.
“Thank you again for dinner,” he said, his voice lower than he intended.
Meryl looked up at him. Something in her expression changed. “It was just pasta.”
“It wasn’t just pasta,” Spencer whispered.
She held his gaze for a long heartbeat.
Then she took a small step toward him.
Spencer moved slowly, giving her every chance to pull back if she wanted to. He lifted his hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. When she leaned into his touch, the last of his restraint went with it.
He bent his head and kissed her.
It was gentle at first, a question rather than a claim. But when her hands came up to rest against his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, the kiss deepened. Spencer felt it all the way through him, the quiet certainty that nothing about this could be called practical anymore.
When they finally drew apart, Meryl’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright in the dim light. He kept his hand against her face a moment longer because he could not quite make himself let go.
But leave he must.
He reluctantly stepped back. If he did not leave now, he knew very well he might not find the strength to leave at all.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
Meryl nodded, her fingers brushing her lips. “Tomorrow.”
As Spencer walked to his truck, the night air cool against his skin, he was grinning from ear to ear. And he didn’t think he would ever stop.
Chapter Thirteen – Meryl
Meryl pressed her fingers to her lips. She could still remember the feel of his mouth on hers. Still remember the warmth of him.
Still wished she had asked him to stay.
