Page 23 of Storytime and Sawdust

"The kids seemed to like it."

"They loved it. So why do I feel like we left something unfinished?"

His eyes search mine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this." I pull out the wooden heart. "And this." I gesture between us. "And everything that almost happened before you pulled away."

Cal's expression softens. "Molly?—"

"I know I'm overwhelming. I feel things intensely. I talk too much when I'm nervous, like now. But I'm tired of apologizing for who I am. I want someone who values my enthusiasm. Who sees all of me and stays."

"Is that why you're here? To see if I'll stay?"

"I'm here to know if this means what I think it means."

He moves closer. "What do you think it means?"

"That maybe you feel this connection too. This possibility."

Cal takes the heart, fingers brushing mine. "I made this at two AM because I couldn't find words for how I feel. I'm not good at expressing emotions. At letting people in."

"I've noticed."

"But with you, I want to try. Even though it scares me."

"What scares you?"

"That I won't be enough. That my quiet will bore you."

I place my palm against his cheek. "Cal, I see someone who truly listens. Who notices details others miss. Who makes me feel both excited and calm simultaneously."

His hand covers mine. "You shine so brightly. I'm afraid I'll dim your light."

"You don't dim it. You reflect it back. Make it steadier, more powerful."

Cal's hand slides to my waist. "I'm still going to struggle with words sometimes."

"That's okay. I have plenty for both of us."

His answering smile transforms his face, creating crinkles at the corners of his eyes that I want to trace with my fingertips. "I've noticed."

And then he's bending down, and I'm rising on my toes, and our lips meet in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. His arms encircleme completely. I wind my arms around his neck, pressing closer, needing to feel all of him against me.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Cal rests his forehead against mine, his hands splayed across my back.

"I've been wanting to do that since the day under the stars," he murmurs.

"Me too." I can feel his heart thundering against my chest, matching the rapid pace of my own. "Though I imagined fewer clothes involved."

The words slip out before I can censor them, and I feel heat rush to my face. But instead of pulling back, Cal's eyes darken, his hands tightening at my waist.

"Is that so?" His voice has dropped an octave, sending shivers down my spine.

"I told you—I don't have a filter when I'm nervous." I bite my lip, suddenly aware of how alone we are, how close his body is to mine. "Or excited. Or both."

"Don't apologize." He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch reverent. "I want to hear everything you're thinking. Especially about fewer clothes."

The desire in his eyes emboldens me. "I was thinking about your hands," I admit. "How careful they are with wood. How they might feel on my skin."

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