Page 50 of Stolen Vows

I swallow hard, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and struggling to keep my expression neutral even as heat blooms across my cheeks.

“Waiting for me, huh?” I aim for teasing, but my voice comes out a little breathless.

Graham’s eyes hold mine, dark and intense. “If I was?”

A shiver rolls down my spine, anticipation and something headier unfurling in my belly. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I guess it’s a good thing I moved to town, isn’t it?”

Graham’s eyes darken, his gaze dipping to my lips for a moment before snapping back to mine. “A very good thing,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

My pulse leaps at his words, at the undercurrent of something deeper, something more, flowing between us. It’s moments like these that make me wonder if I’m imagining this connection, or if it’s as real and intense as it feels.

Needing to break the tension before I do something reckless like lean across the counter and kiss him, I clear my throat and gesture to the drink carrier. “Thank you, Graham.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

17

FRANCESCA

The sun is dipping low,casting a warm glow over Avalon Falls as we make our way back toward the bookstore. It should feel the same as every other Tuesday. The same easy walk, the same familiar footsteps falling in sync, the same warm weight of Romeo’s leash wrapped around my waist.

But it doesn’t.

Because I want him to kiss me.

It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the last twenty minutes. Maybe even the last four weeks. And definitely every single day since last week.

I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like. If he kisses the way he looks at me. If it’ll be slow, deliberate, controlled. Or if, when his lips finally touch mine, all that quiet intensity will shatter, leaving nothing but heat and hunger in its wake. I want to know what his beard feels like against my skin and those broad shoulders under my palms.

I’m pushing thirty years old and here I am, thinking about kissing a boy like I’m fourteen. Though I have a hard time imagining Graham as a boy. He probably went from tween to man in the blink of an eye.

His stride is easy, relaxed, like he has nowhere else to be. Like he doesn’t feel this unbearable something humming in the air between us.

I glance over at him, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. He must feel my gaze on him because he turns his head, hazel eyes locking with mine. Something warm and electric zips through me at the eye contact.

“What’s on your mind, Francesca?” His deep voice is tinged with amusement.

I clear my throat. “You know, I think Romeo likes you best.”

Graham hums, giving the dog a lazy glance. “I think he just likes the treats.”

I scoff. “He’s not so easily bought.”

His lips twitch. “If you say so.”

I bump my shoulder against his playfully. “I do say so. Romeo is an excellent judge of character.”

Graham’s hand brushes mine as we walk, sending a shiver down my spine. “And what about you?” he asks, voice low. “What’s your verdict?”

My heart stutters in my chest. I lick my lips, pulse racing as I meet his intense gaze. “I think . . . I think you’re full of surprises, Graham Carter.”

His eyes darken as he nods. “I can work with that.”

The anticipation builds with each step back to the bookstore, a heady, electric current buzzing beneath my skin. By the time we reach the front door, my heart is pounding, my breath coming a little quicker.

I don’t want to say goodbye yet. I don’t want to walk inside and let another seven days pass without knowing.

He looks down at me, and for the first time since we started this Tuesday routine, he hesitates. His fingers flex at his sides like there’s something he wants to say but won’t.

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