Page 57 of Worth the Shot

On my way.

My stupid grin shows up instantly. I text her back one-handed while grabbing the popcorn bowl with the other.

Me

Drive careful. I need you in one piece for this very serious, very important movie date.

I stare at the words movie date for too long, then decide to leave them, because subtlety is getting me nowhere at this point. I crack open a window, let the winter air sweep just enough cold inside to make a blanket necessary. She likes blankets. She curls toward warmth, and if she curls toward me tonight…

God help me. Help her. Help us both.

I’m done pretending I don’t want her, and I’m even more done pretending she doesn’t want me too.

It feels like hours, but only a few minutes later Delaney is at my door. She doesn’t knock, she just walks in like she owns the place.

And honestly? She kind of does. At least the part of it that matters.

I round the corner and our eyes immediately lock. She looks flustered, which somehow makes me relax, but I don’t care about any of that right now. I just need to touch her.

I grab her hands, lace my fingers through hers, and pull her into me. She squeezes harder, like she wants more of it, so I hang on for as long as she lets me, breathing her in like I’m trying to memorize her scent all over again.

“I missed you,” she murmurs into my chest, and damn, who knew how hard those three little words could actually hit.

My whole body tingles and my voice is low and soft when I say, “I missed you too.”

Eventually one of us has to pull away, so I loosen my hold and give her the chance. She steps back just enough and I brush her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes flutter shut and she takes in a slow breath, like she’s savoring the way my fingers felt on her skin. She shrugs off her coat and immediately sinks into the couch, grabbing her favorite blanket from the back of it.

“Did you wash this?” she asks, offended.

“I did…you know…I wash things,” I say, a slow grin tugging at my mouth.

She lets out a sigh and suddenly I wonder why this woman chose nursing over a well-deserved lead on today’s most popular soap opera. “Well, that’s annoying.”

I blink at her, amused but still confused. “What about me washing a blanket deserves a dramatic sigh?”

“Because now it smells like detergent and not you.”

Ah. There it is. The hit straight to the chest. “That is a shame,” I tease, stepping closer.

“A damn shame,” she echoes, eyes locked on mine.

I’m close enough now that our legs brush when I sit beside her. My fingers slip into her hair, brushing it off her neck, trailing down the back of it. Barely there, the softest touch. She shivers, and tiny goosebumps appear where my fingers trailed.

“I might have an idea.”

“Mmm,” she hums, “your track record’s questionable, but I’m listening.”

My voice drops. “What if you move a little closer? Go straight to the source. Seems like it would be…”

“A better option,” she finishes, nodding slowly, like she’s still deciding if this is a good idea or a terrible one.

She curls into me anyway, but just enough so our bodies barely touch, her head settling into the back of the couch. I stretch my legs out to rest on the coffee table, pull the blanket over us, and let her get comfortable, because whatever I need doesn’t matter.

She’s the only thing that does. We don’t talk at first, we just sit there, bodies close as we listen to the fireplace, the quiet wind outside, our own breathing. My mouth aches for hers, my whole body buzzing, but I wait, because I won’t risk screwing this up.

“How was your day?” she says, like she needs to fill the silence with something to distract her from the sudden shift in the air that feels a little dangerous. I barely hear her when she speaks, my pulse thumping so loud I feel my ears vibrating.