Page 52 of Until Then

I hold out a hand to steady her as she steps out, and as we touch, a spark travels up my arm.

A breath of air escapes her, and she locks eyes with me, like maybe she felt it, too.

Once she’s got both feet on the dock, I drop her hand, mentally shaking off the feeling of electricity. “It’s been a longday, but a good one. For me, at least. Did you enjoy yourself?” I ask as I grasp the handle of the cooler bag and tug.

She doesn’t fight me over it, signaling that she’s got to be as tired as I am. “I did.”

Despite the smile she gives me, her eyes swim with an emotion I can’t name. Like she’s got something on her mind. I don’t press her on it, though, because I’m scared she’ll bring up this connection between us.

I see the interest in her eyes when she looks at me. It matches the feelings I’m working so hard to extinguish.

The melancholic way she’s holding herself in the passenger seat as I pull out of Brooks’s driveway is like a knife to the heart.

“Do you want to stop and get slushies?”

A frown mars her gorgeous face. “Are they going to be open?”

“They’re always open.”

She brightens, a genuine smile lighting up her eyes. “Yes, please.”

Ten minutes later, I pull into the station. While I lock the truck, she scurries inside. As she fills a cup with the blue raspberry flavor, she hums along with the song playing through the speakers, hips swaying to the beat.

I have to clench my teeth to keep from groaning.

I need to go out and find someone—a woman my age, or at least close to it—for a night of fun. Once I do, this feeling I have will go away. Ithasto.

If it doesn’t?

I can’t even contemplate that.

Without my prompting, she grabs another cup and fills it with the Coke flavor.

She turns to me when she’s done, holding both cups and wearing a proud smile.

“Let’s go, boss man.”

I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname, even as my heart clenches. “You want anything else?”

With a thoughtful hum, she wanders down the candy aisle, flip-flops slapping against the dirty linoleum. She peruses the chocolate for only a moment before she snags two Crunch bars.

Holding them up, she says, “This was my favorite growing up, but it’s hard to find.”

I grab two more. “Get some extras, then.”

“I don’t need this much chocolate,” she laughs, still looking beautiful despite a day on the lake and the garish yellow light flickering above us. “Pick something for yourself.”

“I can get extra chocolate for you and still get something for myself.” I crouch and pick a pack of Reese’s to drive home my point.

She smiles at the orange package in my hand. “Youwouldbe a Reese’s man.”

Eyes narrowed, I purse my lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Steady, reliable, always good.” She gives me a soft, almost shy smile that looks so foreign on the face of this bold, confident woman. “I like Reese’s.” She swipes a pack for herself, juggling her three packs of chocolate and the two slushies with ease and speed walks to the register.

I like Reese’s. That declaration plays over in my mind.

Because from her tone, it’s pretty clear she wasn’t just talking about the peanut butter and chocolate cup.

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