“Like seeing her felt like déjà vu. Like I’d met her a thousand times, even though I knew I’d never seen her before in my life, because I would’ve remembered. Something inside me recognized her even though that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t like Iknewher, but…I knew I wassupposedto know her. And I wondered if maybe that was the point of this whole mess I’d gotten myself into. That it was all to meet her.” He cleared his throat. “It would be hard to explain how it all changed so quickly.”
The emotional whiplash of the last fifteen seconds knocked the wind out of her. These were the kinds of impossibly romanticthings men in old movies said about women whose greatest flaw was their propensity to faint. She couldn’t conceive of a universe in which these words were meant for her. But then again, it all changed so quickly, just as he’d said.
There was a palpable energy between them to be sure—he’d admitted as much—but for her, this thing was becoming so much more than a mere attraction. There were moments when she could feel his wariness of her falling away from his limbs like late spring melt on a tree. But would it ever be enough? Or would he always find her hard to trust?
Awareness tickled at the back of Lainey’s neck at just how thin the air was between them. How little of it there was. She’d always prided herself on her ability to read people, but there was no telling what Elliot Hodges was thinking when his eyes dragged down her cheek with the weight of a finger, pulling all the way to her bottom lip.
Without thinking, she lifted her own hand to her mouth, pressing her index finger to the spot where he stared. She held it there, remembering the feel of his mouth against hers. Pressing down harder and harder until his tongue swept across her full lips.
She wasn’t certain anyone else possessed the capacity to admire someone the way Elliot could. Or maybe it was some alchemy between them that raised the stakes each time his eyes tangled up in hers.
The realization shot fear through her belly. He saw it, too, the moment her gaze went from heated to terrified.
“There’s that look again,” he observed.
“What look?”
“The Benihana look. The B&B look. The look you give mewhen you think I’m about to kiss you. It’s like your face is a slot machine, cycling through a million different feelings in seconds until you land on abject horror and completely skewer my confidence.”
Her breath solidified in her chest at the mere mention of a kiss. An intentional one this time. A premeditated one. Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Even their breaths were quiet, as if they might scare away the air if they dared to breathe too loudly.
He shattered the silence first. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if Forest’s Bridge didn’t exist?” he asked. “If I was just some stupid architecture fanboy, passing through town? And you drove me in your car, and I asked for your number at a gas station? What do you think would’ve happened?”
She looked down at their hands, knowing there were wise things she was going to say and careless things she wished she’d say. But the wise part of her never let her have nice things.
It all changed so quickly, she reminded herself.
“You would’ve been passing through town,” she replied, each inhalation deliberate work. “You’d’ve lost interest, and I would’ve become a funny anecdote for your next Hinge date.” Her laugh shook with dishonesty.
His gaze was relentless and still she couldn’t help but inch closer—a flower bending toward the sun. “I think it would be difficult to lose interest in you, Lainey,” he said, his voice holding a confidence that scared her.
His eyes roved all over her face, no doubt at war between his own wise and careless selves. She watched his throat bob, up then down. Waffle panted between them rhythmically like a ticking clock.
“I’m starting to worry it might be impossible.”
He spun the ring on her finger, waiting, searching her face like she held some sort of answer.
This was it: their “what if?” moment. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach like a moth trapped in a jar.
Right at that moment, Waffle chose to jump onto her chest and lick her face. Elliot released her hand so all of her fingers were free to rub the sides of Waffle’s belly.
Tension poured from her body like a faucet. Lainey mentally apologized to the woman she’d side-eyed for losing her emotional support gecko in her car, because she finally understood the power of a therapy animal.
A giggle slipped from her throat. “Hey there, boy,” she told Waffle, feeling frustrated, grateful, and every other emotion in between.
“Looks like your plan worked,” Elliot said, clearing his throat.
She looked out the window, seeing nothing but the dark sky. “Do you have a leash for him?”
Lainey led Waffle out of the truck. He promptly peed—likely the true impetus for his spontaneous display of affection—and then followed her and Elliot out of the dark.
“He can stay in my room,” he offered, just as Waffle curled up on the couch with the long-suffering sigh of a stubborn old man who had zero intention of moving again for the rest of the night.
“I think he’s made other plans.” Lainey tilted her head in the dog’s direction. “Leave your door open tonight. He’ll find you if he needs you.”
Lainey stared at Elliot at the threshold of his bedroom, wishing she could access his thoughts. She wanted to unspool hisbrain. Uncover what it was he wanted. What was he hoping would happen next?
She searched for something to say.
