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Good, good, good. I needed that.
I shift on the log, repositioning myself to create some space between us. “Sure. Why not,” I rasp.
He opens the box to reveal marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars.
“Have you ever done this?”
Oliver snorts, grabbing two branches lying next to his feet. “Haven’t you?”
“Not really.”
His laughter vibrates through my body. “You either have or you haven’t. You can’t say ‘not really.’”
He turns to me, and because I’m still tucked under the blanket with him, the space between our faces disappears. We’re close. So close that his breath mingles with mine in an electrifying blend of softness and longing that compels me to lean closer.
Oliver’s breath hitches, and I blink.
“Here.” His voice is hoarse as he hands me the small twig. “Push it through the marshmallow. And hold it close to the fire.”
I mimic his movements. In a matter of seconds, the marshmallow turns brown and starts to melt.
“Now.” He gets two crackers out of the package and breaks off a piece of chocolate. “Place the marshmallow between the two crackers and press gently.”
The white mush melts into the chocolate, sticking everything together.
Oliver smiles. “Ready to eat.”
I bite into the treat, and sweetness coats my tongue. “Oh, this is good,” I half moan.
Oliver chokes on his s’more before laughing. “Isn’t it?” He holds out his stick. “Cheers.”
Chuckling, I tap mine against his just as I notice him looking at my lips.
“You have chocolate on your face.” He points to the left corner of his mouth.
“Oh.” I rub my right side, but he laughs, shaking his head.
“Let me.”
As if he can’t help himself, as if he knows it couldn’t possibly be a good idea, Oliver reaches out and gently rubs the corner of my mouth with his thumb. He lingers for a few seconds, his thumb pressing softly on my lower lip, his eyes riveted to the point of contact, his lips parted and his breath shallow.
He’s about to kiss me.
He’s about to kiss me, and I don’t know if I want him to or if I never want to know what it’s like to be kissed by Oliver Reynolds and his gorgeous lips that look so, so soft.
Panic swells, clawing at my throat until breathing becomes hard. “I-I have to go. Long day tomorrow.”
It takes everything I have in me to not break down right in front of him.
Pine Falls, December 20, 2017
My dear Charlee,
You must be crazy if you thought I wouldn’t find the time to write to you before Christmas. I even got up extra early today so I could make sure to catch Emile at 8 a.m. That old bastard threw the cookies I made for him in my face, plate and all. Everything went splattering everywhere. Wouldn’t even be able to tell you the French words he let out, but they sure as hell didn’t sound pretty.
I’m not sure when you’ll get this letter, but hopefully before Christmas. Hope this will be a nice surprise for you.
Would I be horrible if I said I’m relieved your date went terribly? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry you had to sit through that, but reading that you were out having a romantic dinner with another man . . . I’m actually happy you weren’t here to see me. All your guesses are wrong, though. I wasn’t reading, wasn’t with my grandpa. I was sitting in my bed, going crazy thinking about you and all the scenarios that could potentially happen. I even thought that the next letter I’d receive from you would be you telling me that you’d met the most incredible guy ever and we had to go back to being friends and sending articles only. Not that we’re more than friends, but you know . . . sometimes it does feel like something more.
