“Hi,” I say, hoping very much that nothing on my face is giving me away.
“Hi.”
That dimple. He’s grinning, and there it is. I love that dimple. It’s so darned sexy. It does things to me.
He steps in and opens his arms.
I plan on a quick touch, a back pat, and done. That is the plan. Instead, I step in, and my hands find his back, and I pull him closer and take a long, slow breath against his shoulder.
It feels good to be in his arms.
Right, somehow. Which is all wrong.
He smells incredible. Oh, my gosh! They should bottle this scent. Someone could make millions.
He pulls back first.
Crap!
I had planned on pulling away first.
I pull myself together in the approximately half a second between him stepping away and the next thing I’m supposed to say.
“It’s good to see you,” I manage. “You look great.”
His eyes drop, just a fraction, just for a beat, and then come back to my face. “You too, Carla. How have you been?”
“Good.” It comes out slightly too fast. “I’m working out. If I’m ever back in the jungle, I’ll actually have stamina this time.” I giggle.
Something moves through his expression. His jaw tightens. “You had plenty of stamina.”
“You had to carry me half the time.”
“It was my pleasure.” A small pause. “I’d carry you anytime.” He clears his throat. “I mean, if we were ever stranded again, that is.” He smiles. “You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.” I laugh, and it sounds more like me than I expected.
“I mean it. You weigh nothing.”
If only that were true.
“I’m doing weights too,” I blurt. “I’m working on getting stronger.” I lift my arm, flex my bicep, and instantly know I shouldn’t have done that, but it is too late; the arm is up.
There isn’t much of anything to see.
I don’t think Robyn’s theory about muscle weighing more holds much truth when it comes to me.
Magma reaches out and squeezes my arm gently. “Impressive.” He nods.
My cheeks go warm, and I actually giggle again. “It’s early days.” He’s such a liar and so nice.
“Soon you’ll have muscles like me.” He raises his arm and flexes, and it is unfair because of the size of that arm. I feel something low and specific in my belly and hard-ignore it.
“Stop showing off,” Flint says. “Hey, Carla.” He wraps me in a hug.
I squeeze him back and let go first. “How are you, Flint? How’s Mistveil treating you?”
“It’s good. A lot of challenges to work through. Being very busy keeps me out of trouble.”
