Because wanting his body is one thing.
But wanting his presence?His steadiness?The way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world?
That’s different.
I don’t know if I’m ready to risk my heart again.
But standing here in his arms, feeling chosen instead of diminished—I’m not sure I want to walk away either.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my cheek like he can’t help himself.
“Did I mention how perfect you look today?”
I grin.
Me perfect?
In capris.
In a T-shirt.
With no makeup.
Just me.
But instead of shrinking under the weight of that attention—I straighten.
Because maybe steady feels like this.
Like being kissed in daylight.
Like not having to wonder where you stand.
Like knowing the man beside you isn’t embarrassed to show it.
“Thanks.You, uh, look pretty perfect too,” I whisper.
Because he does.
He’s wearing an open flannel with the sleeves rolled up, a navy blue t-shirt beneath it.On his long, muscular legs is a pair of faded blue jeans that do crazy things to my pulse.
And on his feet is a pair of clean work boots.
He looks clean.Neat.
Fine as hell.Sexy too.
“Let’s get some iced tea, Honey.”
“Mm.Let’s,” I agree.
Chapter20
J.T
We walk hand in hand into Thatcher’s backyard, and everything detonates at once.
First, Thatcher clocks it.
