Her palm is warm and a little rough from three weeks of nets and rope, and when her fingers curl around mine she doesn't let go too fast. She doesn't let go at all.
"Fireworks," she says. "Your boat. You promised."
"I remember."
"Okay." She takes a breath. "Then don't let me overthink it between now and dark."
I bring her hand up and press my mouth to her knuckles, slow, the way I've wanted to for three weeks, and I feel the shiver go through her.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Doc," I say.
Chapter Six
Aileen
Hepicksmeupat the launch at dusk, and this time I'm not carrying a single piece of equipment.
I've got a blanket and a bottle of wine and a summer dress I didn't know I still owned, buried at the bottom of the one duffel that's followed me across six states. My hair's down. Forrest looks at me coming down the dock and goes completely still, and something about that stillness makes me feel more wanted than any amount of flirting ever has.
"You clean up nice," he says, his voice gruff, and offers me his hand into the boat.
"So do you."Understatement. No man has ever looked better.
He’s wearing a button-up shirt, he’s clean shaven, and it looks like he’s had a fresh haircut, too. The boat's got cushions laid out across the back bench and a cooler and a little battery lantern, and it's so thoughtful, soprepared, that my throat goes tight.
He runs us away from the crowded coves and tucks the boat into a small pocket behind a wooded point. Nobody on the mainlake can see us, but the sky is wide open above the trees, and the noise of the party is only a warm hum in the distance. He cuts the motor and drops the anchor, and then it's just us and the water and the first stars coming out.
"They'll start soon," he says, settling onto the bench beside me.
"Forrest."
"Yeah?"
I turn to face him. My heart is beating so hard and so fast that I'm sure he can hear it.
"I need to explain something," I say. "Nearly a decade ago, I gave up my career for a man. We were planning to marry, so I moved everything I owned into his house, fully expecting my happily ever after, y’know?”
He listens patiently, the way he always does, waiting for me to continue.
“Barely six months later, it was over. I couldn’t afford a moving truck, so I packed a single duffel bag and left everything else behind. Now, I keep my nose to the grindstone, and I’ve built a career I love.”
He nods. “It’s the perfect career for you.”
“Yes,” I agree impatiently. “But do you hear what I’m saying? I’m only here for the summer. Then I’ll move on to the next lake.”
His gaze drops to my mouth and comes back up. "I hear you. But I still want to kiss you.”
He hears me… and he still wants to kiss me. So, who am I to deny him what he wants?
I close the distance and kiss him.
He goes still for half a heartbeat, and then his hand comes up to cradle my jaw, and he kisses me back, slow and deep and thorough, like he intends to remember it, like there's nowhere else on earth he has to be.
He tastes like summer.It’s a ridiculous thought, but it’s true. He’s sunshine and water and everything good.
His thumb strokes along my cheekbone. When I make a small sound against his mouth, something in him lets go, and he pulls me closer, one arm wrapping around my waist to draw me across his lap.
The first fireworks go up.
