Page 40 of Westward

We had fearfully traversed our lack of relationship over the past decade by not talking about it. By allowing ourselves to be in the vicinity of each other while the town spoke in front of us and behind our backs. While our friends wondered how they were going to deal with us in the same room. We had been there for each other, and yet had always put up our boundaries because that was how we could survive.

But as soon as Atlas had come back this last time, it felt as if those boundaries had been tossed into the wind, torn into a thousand pieces, and left me breathless.

Things were progressing, changing. We both knew it. Slight touches, the kisses, the moans. The needs. There was no denying it.

And I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do when it came to denying him or myself.

I grabbed my bag and told myself this would just be dinner. A simple dinner. And yet, when I went to open the front door, there he was, leaning against the porch railing, looking far too good. I’d put on a sundress and sandals because it was hot outside, and I liked the yellow linen. He’d gone with a white T-shirt and snug jeans that showcased those hockey thighs. Damn the man.

It was hard enough not to think about him when he wasn’t looking sexy near me. Now he looked as if he were ready to burst out of those clothes, all muscle, and everything.

When I finally met his gaze, doing my best not to let my stare go on too long when it came to certain parts of anatomy, I realized that I wasn’t alone in the eye-fucking. He winked at me, his teeth gently rubbing against his lip.

“I thought we were having dinner at your place.”

“We are. Did you think I was just going to let you walk over there alone?”

“He’s behind bars,” I whispered, knowing we were both still thinking about Will’s foster dad. They’d waylaid him with a bunch of charges, and nobody had paid his bail yet. Will still wasn’t letting us find him a roof to sleep under, but he was letting us help with other things. I was just glad his foster dad was out of the picture.

Atlas’s gaze went stony. “While I can’t stop thinking about that man and what he did, that isn’t why I’m here.”

My heart raced, and I swallowed hard. “Oh?”

“Of course I’m going to pick you up at your door. What kind of man do you take me for?”

“That is a very loaded question, Atlas Carter.”

His lips twitched, and then he moved forward, light on his feet, a cat on the prowl. When he slid his finger along my jaw, my mouth parted. His eyes darkened, and I knew he wanted to kiss me. And some part of me—well, nearly every part of me—wanted him to. But I was afraid once he kissed me, there would be no going back. And I didn’t know where that path would lead.

“As much as I want to kiss you right now, if I do, I’m taking you inside, and then we miss dinner.”

“Who says I would let you?” I asked, both of us knowing full well that if he kissed me, I would let him.

“We don’t need to lie to each other, do we?”

“How about we go get dinner? I’m starving.”

“Well, I can’t let you waste away.” He took my hand as I closed and locked the door behind me. When he tangled his fingers with mine, it was as if there were flashbacks to a time before. Where there were always worries, always cares in the world, and yet they had been different. Far more innocent.

Both of us were striving for futures we couldn’t bear to be apart from, and yet a relationship that had tugged on every ounce of our beings.

By the time we traversed the short path to his place, I nearly glared at him.

“You know, I’ve always wondered why you decided to build here.”

He froze for an instant before he opened his door, the smell of roast chicken and dumplings filling the air.

“You remembered,” I whispered.

“We love chicken and dumplings. It’s one of the few things that I’m good at making. It’s not exactly on my salmon and brown rice dietary plan, but for this instance, I don’t mind.”

“We could have done salmon and brown rice. Those are both good options.”

“For tonight, though, I wanted chicken and dumplings. And as for building on this property, technically, this house was already here when I bought the place. And land in Ashford Creek is hard to come by. I was just lucky that I could find something.”

“That just happened to butt against my house and neighborhood?” I asked dryly.

“Honestly, I thought it was a heaven or hell situation,” he said with a shrug, the truth in his tone nearly buckling my knees.