Page 65 of Runaway
A plethora of candy wrappers, pop cans, drinks, and other various food gems littered my coffee table, along with several decks of cards. Ah, the Bailey family tournament. Megan had already baptized Stella into the family, and stupid me missed it because of my lack of curbing ideas.
“Thought I'd clean these before they stained.” She held up the coffee mug. “Your sister is hysterical, by the way. And I'm in love with the two of them. If they were famous, there'd be hashtags about them, you know? They're both so . . . “
“Arrogant?”
“Amazing.”
I shook my head, unable to believe this. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my sister and her boyfriend. “You're not angry with me?” I asked.
“Angry?”
I cleared my throat and gestured to the door. “I've been gone for so long and—”
“Oh! Yeah. Can't wait to hear it. You must have had an awesome idea.”
She waited, clearly eager, as if she wanted me to say it right now. My mind took a few moments to reorient to this alien situation. Slowly, the tension bled out of my shoulders.Can't wait?I wanted to repeat in utter disbelief.You . . .
Instead of speaking, my brain took over again. In two quick strides, I'd crossed the space between us. The next thing I knew, her body was pressed against mine, her face was in my palms, and her lips locked with mine. She tilted back over the sink from the force of my descent, but I gathered her up in my arms and pulled her back into me. There wasn't a breath that could have fit between us. Not space. Not air.
Nothing.
What must have been an eternity later, she pulled away with a little gasp.
“Wow.”
She blinked. The scrub brush and coffee mug were still in her hands. They'd sloshed the back of my shirt. Water ran halfway down my back, but I didn't care. I captured her for one last, long, lingering kiss and forced myself to step back. To pull myself back together, I turned away and ran a hand through my hair.
Her rumpled grin deepened.
“Wow,” I repeated quietly. Inside me, the knot that had choked my stomach slowly fell apart.
While she chuckled quietly to herself, I ripped the wet shirt off, balled it up, and threw it in the washer. She could laugh about this, but I couldn't. No, Stella had rocked me. Suckerpunch to the kidney so strong it rattled my metaphorical teeth. Oh, yeah. She had to be independent, beautiful,andaccepting.
The nerve.
She also had to be stalked by a total creeper that I'd rip apart at the first opportunity.
“If you're looking to gain a bit of control over that fiery passion I love so much,” she said wryly, “I hardly think you taking off your shirt is going to help.”
I'd stopped to stare at her. Even with half the cabin between us now, I still felt like I didn't have enough space to stop me from taking this too far.
Unbidden, Joshua’s latest appearance sprang back to my mind. My nostrils flared as I noted her fuzzy boots that hid stockinged feet, then marveled at the absurd normalcy of every second that had just passed. Of course, it feltso rightthat she stood here, looking adorably rumpled and bright. Her expression faltered for a second.
“Mark? You okay?”
I grabbed another shirt, yanked it on, and returned to her side. This time, I leaned both my hands on the table and gripped the sides so I wouldn't be tempted to touch her again. I hadn't planned on telling her about Joshua. She didn't need to be more stressed out, but now that she stood before me, I knew she could take it. She'd want to know.
I'dwant to know.
Sober now, she dropped the mug and brush back into the sink, but she didn't move closer. Instead, she swallowed.
“Joshua?” she asked.
I met her gaze. “He's in town, I think.”
To her credit, she only paled. There was no gasp of shock or cry of terror. Something like resignation followed.
“Why do you think that?”
