Page 119 of Reach Around

“I’ll bring you snacks for life, babe. Even if you start requesting the weird pickled herring shit from Pru’s mini fridge.”

She snorts. “God, don’t tempt me.”

I brush my lips across her hairline, her nose, finally her mouth. This time, the kiss isn’t frantic or desperate. It’s slow and sweet and stupidly perfect. She clings to me like she’s scared I’ll disappear, and I realize—I’m never going anywhere. Not again.

When we finally pull back, her cheeks are flushed from more than the cold.

“You know this is just the beginning, right?” I say, brushing a strand of windblown hair off her cheek. “We’ve got a lot of firsts to cover. Like a real first date. And ice cream. And a meet-the-parents moment that’s not just… my mom yelling from behind the bar.”

Joely laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

She lifts a brow.

“Okay. I’m nervous. But also psyched. And weirdly sweaty despite it being below freezing.”

“You’re a walking contradiction, Foster.”

“Yeah,” I say, bumping her nose with mine. “But I’m your walking contradiction.”

Behind us, Virgil clears his throat so loudly it echoes. He must have parked Sleetwood Mac in the garage and jogged right back to put his two cents in.

“You two done makin’ out under my sign?”

“Your sign?” I ask.

He crosses his arms. “Didn’t see your name on the lease. Also, you left your ladder. Again.”

Joely leans into me. “You’re gonna have to buy him another bottle of schnapps, aren’t you?”

“Bennett already handled it.”

Then Bennett appears, holding up a phone. “I recorded all of it. You’re going viral, little bro.”

“You didn’t.”

“Say ‘coasters’, and I’ll send it to Mom.”

I groan. Joely beams.

Bennett whoops in the background, snapping a photo just as I spin Joely in a careful, cast-friendly half circle. Virgil’s grumbling, but even he’s got a smile hiding behind that scowl.

This is it. The crowd, the chaos, the town that never lets you go. And right in the middle—us. No hiding. No secrets. Just two idiots in love under a crooked sign.

I look down at Joely, and she grins up at me, the kind of grin that makes a guy believe in all the cheesy forever stuff.

“Hey, Foster,” she says, voice soft. “You gonna stand here all night, or you gonna take your girlfriend to the Power Play for a Diet Coke and some wings?”

“Girlfriend,” I echo, loving the way it sounds in her mouth. “I could get used to that.”

Scooping her up bridal-style, I’m careful not to jostle her cast. She rolls her eyes—something about being perfectly capable on crutches—but I’m not hearing it. I settle her gently into the front seat, tucking her puffy coat around her and making sure her leg is stretched out just right. I even lean in to buckle her seat belt, double-checking that it’s not digging into her shoulder.

“You know I’m not made of glass, right?” she mutters, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that says she loves every second of it.

I brush a kiss across her forehead. “Yeah, but you’re mine. That’s basically the same thing.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, soft and happy, and for once, I don’t care if anyone in Sorrowville sees.

---