Page 107 of Love in Riverbend
When did they become so intense?
The blue shimmers.
I take a step closer, unsure if I’m imagining this encounter. Maybe it’s my subconscious giving me another reason to consider Riverbend. As the thought comes, it goes. Once Justin Sheers knows who I am, he won’t be interested in me.
“Are you all right?” he asks with a sexy grin. “A moment ago, you were smiling, and now you’re not.”
Swallowing, I consider my next words.
He takes a step closer. As I look up, I can smell the scent of bodywash, the aroma of the bonfire, and the beer on his breath. My heart beats faster as butterflies come to life in my stomach. Never have I had this reaction to mere presence. This is crazy.
This is Justin Sheers.
His touch comes to my chin. It’s warm, soft in a gentle way, yet coarse, the hands of a working man. I forget to breathe as he lifts my chin to resume our eye contact.
“You have a beautiful smile.”
His voice is like his touch—deep and soothing while at the same time, abrasive in a way that twists my core and tightens my nipples. I say a quick prayer, thanking God that I’m wearing the oversized sweatshirt.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say. It was an octave too high, but I made the words go out.
Blinking, he lets go of my chin and taking a step back, shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m not a creep or some perv.”
My cheeks rise. “I wasn’t thinking you were.”
A sparkle returns to his gaze. “There’s that smile.”
Inhaling, I confess. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back to Riverbend and that” —I lift my chin to the distant sounds of the growing party— “is a bit overwhelming.”
“I get it. I live here day in and day out, and it is overwhelming.”
“I’m sure,” I say, “you know everyone at the party.”
Justin shrugs. “I thought I did.” His smile returns. “I don’t. You haven’t told me your name.”
Closing my eyes, I carry on my internal debate, the one I’ve been having with myself since Justin introduced himself. I could introduce myself as Echo, but I don’t want to lie to him. I also don’t want to be truthful. As the argument rages in my head, Justin again reaches for my chin. When my eyes open, he’s close, very close.
“If you don’t tell me your name, I can’t ask you if I can kiss you.”
I swallow. “You want to kiss me?”
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you took off the hood.”
“Why?”
His smile grows and a laugh fills the air. “I can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound cheesy, and if you knew me, you’d know I’m not a cheesy person.” Releasing my chin, he steps back and takes off his jacket. It’s a Carhartt—tan on the outside with lining on the inside. Justin lays the coat on the soft ground. “Would you like to sit?”
Nodding, I sit to one side of the opened jacket.
The heady scent of a man and the warmth of the fabric make for an intoxicating mixture.
Justin sits beside me. He’s close enough that I feel the heat of his body, yet far enough away that we aren’t touching.
Bending my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and look out at the pond. I turn to face Justin, taking in his profile as my stomach does flip-flops. “Have you ever worried that you’d ruin something if you say the wrong thing?” I ask.
