Page 45 of Love Story

Conor’s smirk widened as he leaned against the fence, all casual, as if he had all the time in the world.“No reason.Just… Sam doesn’t usually let people in so fast.He keeps his circle small, you know?But you must’ve made a good impression.”

My face warmed, and I turned away, pretending to check the fence for no real reason.“He’s been… nice.Helpful.”

“Uh-huh,” Conor said, his tone dripping with teasing.“Sam’s a solid guy.You like him?”

Oh wow, that was an interrogation question from a best friend.

I fumbled for a response.“I—uh—he’s… we’re friends.I think.”

Conor raised an eyebrow, not buying it.“‘Friends’,” he repeated, his smirk turning into a full grin.“Sure.Friends.Well, you’re a good guy.”

“I am?”

“Harriet said so.”

“Oh.”

“And you laughed at my fence humor, so it’s all good.”Conor clapped me on the shoulder before I could figure out what to say.“Anyway, the fence is good to go.Don’t let it fall over again, yeah?”

I watched him disappear down the path.

“Was that Conor?”Aunt Harriet called from the porch, the light behind leaving her a silhouette.

“Came to my rescue,” I said, then picked up the box of tools I’d found in the garage—none of which had made me a super-DIY’er by any stretch of the imagination.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“Sure, Aunt Harriet.”I stamped off snow and headed inside, and she was waiting in the mud room.

“Sam’s mom asked me to make something for Sam because he’s working a night shift, and she swears he’ll miss dinner.Will you take it to him?”

I glanced at my watch, never questioning what my aunt had said, all too happy to visit Sam.“Of course.”

“Take the SUV, though.”

“On it.”

I made it to the sugarhouse by seven, and as soon as I stepped inside, I was hit by a blazing hot wall of the sweet, earthy scent of boiling sap thick in the air.Sam turned to me, wiping his hands on a rag.His hair was messy, as if he’d been at this for hours already, and his eyes lit up when he saw me.

“Dinner delivery,” I announced, setting the box on the bench.“Courtesy of Harriet, who got a call from your mom about you missing dinner.Again.”

He huffed a laugh, then smiled as he leaned against the workbench.“Dinner is for wimps,” he deadpanned, “and I had a candy bar.What’s in the basket?”

I listed off the contents—stew, bread, pie, and the holy grail of night shifts—coffee.He seemed grateful, even though I knew I hadn’t done much.Still, standing in the heat of the sugarhouse with him, something about being there made me feel more settled than I had in weeks.

He pulled me close, and our lips met in a deep, hungry kiss.I craved him—his touch, his warmth, the way he held me like I was his and nothing else mattered.

The sweet aroma of maple syrup surrounded us as our kiss deepened.His strong hands brushed over my back, sending shivers down my spine.I threaded my fingers through his hair, savoring the silky strands against my skin.We broke apart for a moment, breathless, our eyes locked.A hint of a smile danced on his lips before he leaned in again, and time stood still in this cozy sugar house, our private sanctuary from the outside world.I melted into his embrace, feeling safe and something else…

Protected?Wanted?Needed?

I’d never felt this from a kiss before.

His warm lips trailed along my jaw and down my neck, each one igniting a spark within me.I tilted my head back, relishing the sensation.When our lips found each other again, it was slow and tender.His fingers traced delicate patterns on my cheek as we kissed, sending tingles across my skin.I sighed against his lips, completely lost in the moment.

With our foreheads pressed together, he searched my face with an intense gaze, as if memorizing every detail.I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet safe under his scrutiny.My heart raced as he leaned in once more, his lips brushing against mine with exquisite tenderness.Time lost all meaning as we stood there, exchanging slow, lingering kisses—each one a silent promise, a delicate exploration.His breath warmed my skin, his hands steadying me as he deepened the kiss, drawing me closer until there was no space left between us, just the quiet urgency of wanting more.

Then his stomach grumbled, and we parted with a laugh.

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