Page 6 of When Wildflowers Bloom

“I’ll walk you out,” he responds. And when he stands, I notice how tall he is, how much space he takes up, and how he can wear a pair of blue jeans like it’s a high-paying job.

I say goodbye to Libby, who gives me a genuine smile and an easy, “Come see me again if you’re ever in town.” She says it like she means it—like maybe we could be real friends—and it makes my chest ache.

Outside, we’re in empty parking lot around the back of the building lit only by a streetlight. Muffled sounds of music come in waves from the front of the bar when the door randomly opens and closes.

Bo crosses his arms over his chest and leans on my minivan with a smirk, light flickering in his eyes like two slivers of the moon. “Nice ride.”

I shake my head with a small laugh. “It’s for work.” Then I remember, “My dad’s work, I mean.”

I notice how alone we are as much as I notice my urge to touch the strands of hair that tumble across his forehead. To want his beard beneath my fingertips. Between them.

“When do you go back to the Rockies, Pam Beesly?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning,” I say, leaning against the minivan as a small smirk tugs at his lips.

“I can’t let you go without telling you…” His pause has the power to make me stop breathing. “Nobody drinks triple sec straight.”

I snort out a laugh. “That explains the taste.”

I look him over one last time. From the lines and angles of his face in the night to the casual ease of his body leaning against my minivan. In a different life…in a different life.

My façade is already faltering, the Cinderella effect of the night starting to fade. I’m thinking of tomorrow’s workday, what I’ll have for breakfast, how the alcohol is damaging me, and what time I’ll go to yoga to try to undo it all. My mind is loud, cluttered, and makes my eyes burn.

I lift my chin toward him, a million different things I want to say bouncing through me. I debate asking him if he wants to go back to my place, but Pam Beesly doesn’t have a place here. This is the end, and I want to cry because it’salwaysthe goddamn end.

“So Bo—” I don’t know what I’m going to say next, but it doesn’t matter. He unfolds his arms, steps forward, and presses his palms against the minivan on either side of me. A capturing.

It’s his pause.

My slight nod.

Then impact.

His mouth is on mine and my body goes limp while simultaneously being shocked to life by a jolt of electricity from the way it feels to have his skin touch mine.

As fast as his mouth touches me, it pulls away. And—what the hell?That’s nowhere near enough.

Eyes flickingbetween mine, he must see that I want more, because a wicked grin spreads across his face as he—slowly—leans toward me.

When his lips find mine again—bliss.

His tongue, rubbing against my lips—melting me—retreats away when I open my mouth. He’s teasing me. I can feel his smile when I too eagerly use my own to reach for his. I can’t help it. I want him.This.Desperately. And he knows it. He pushes his body up against mine and he’s already half-hard, sending a fresh shot of want blazing through me like a brushfire.

His mouth moves across my jaw and down my neck, tongue swirling against my bare skin. He grips my hips so tightly I might bruise. And yet, I don’t care.

The way he feels and tastes is like everything else about him—a mountain breeze.

When he pulls away, I’m breathless. The smolder in his eyes matches how the inside of my entire body feels.

Compared to his quiet, my panting sounds like a hurricane.

Don’t let him go, the little voice inside me whispers.

So I don’t.

Just this once.

Instead of getting in the driver’s seat, I match the heat in his gaze, pulling the handle to the back door. When it slides open, I wrap one hand around his neck, and we fall inside the back of the van together.

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