Oooh, I hope so.
But then the door pops open and an old, grizzled man walks in. He totally fits the stereotype of what you’d expect for a lighthouse keeper.
“Time to go, young people,” he says gruffly when he spots us. “The lighthouse is now closed for the night.”
“No problem,” Shane replies. “We were just leaving.”
The man huffs, and we go, laughing as we jog out to the Jeep.
“I don’t think he liked that we were still there,” I say as I stop by the passenger door.
“Yeah, probably not,” Shane agrees. “But he should be happy there were visitors, at least. I get the impression the lighthouse is not a big tourist draw.”
Seeing as we had the place to ourselves the whole time, I’d say he’s right.
Once we’re in the Jeep, we head back down the sandy lane and start on the road to our house.
In a way, it really does feel like “our” house. I guess technically it is until August. But after what happened in the lighthouse, it feels even more so.
Still, was the kissing a one-off?
Were we just caught up in a magical moment?
Shane hasn’t said a word about it yet.
I guess I’ll have to.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Can we talk about what just happened back there?”
He nods once. “Yeah, I think we should. But let’s wait till we’re home, okay? I want to be able to look at you when we’re talking.”
I actually agree, and I tell him as much.
Only thing is now I’m worried that maybe he’s going to say that what happened was a mistake, and that we need to forget about it and get back to working on being just friends.
God, I hope not.
Frankly, I don’t know if I can.
Back at the house, we decide to talk out by the pool. There’s a nice warm breeze, and it feels comfortable back there. Truly, it’s become our go-to spot for late-night chats.
Though this one is über important.
That’s why we choose to angle our loungers so that we can face each other. Since we still would like to sit side by side, Shane just spins his chair the opposite way of mine and scoots it down a little so that once we’re seated, his hips are about where my thighs are.
“So,” he begins with a warm smile, “about what happened at the lighthouse…”
“Oh God.” I cover my face with my hands, worried. “Please don’t say it was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I hear him exclaim. Then he snorts, and I dare to lower my hands. “Willa, it was far from a mistake. To be honest, it was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.”
“Me too,” I reply softly. Then I ask, “Do you think we just got caught up in the moment, though? It felt so magical up there, what with the sun setting and that soft orange glow.”
I don’t know what I’m doing. I guess I’m trying to make sure that, though it was an amazing make-out session, it wasreal.
“Willa.” Shane takes my hand. “Listen. It wouldn’t have mattered where we were. It was bound to happen. I’m glad it was in such a romantic spot, but damn, girl, I’ve been thinking about and wanting to kiss you for a long while now.”
“You have?” I ask, surprised.
