Page 261 of Lost Then Found
I laugh, heart fluttering. “That depends. Does this restaurant do takeout?”
He grins, presses another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go make people jealous.”
I grab my clutch, still smiling, and slip my hand into his.
The porch creaks under our steps as we walk outside, hand in hand. The sun’s just starting to dip behind the mountains, bleeding streaks of peach and coral and lavender across the sky like someone dragged a wet paintbrush through a bunch of watercolors. There’s a chill riding the breeze now that the light’s beginning to fade, but Boone’s hand is warm around mine.
He pauses at the edge of the steps, turning to face me with that same boyish glint in his eye I’ve seen a million times before. Usually right before he talks me into something I probably shouldn’t agree to.
“I’ve got one quick stop before dinner,” he says. “Something I wanna show you. I think you’ll like it.”
I squint at him. “Is it food?”
He grins. “Nope.”
“Is it wine?”
“Nope.”
“Then we’re getting close to the edge of my interests, cowboy.”
He just laughs, pulling a folded bandanna from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
My eyes narrow. “You better not be about to murder me.”
He smirks. “If I was, I wouldn’t be wearing my nice suit.”
“That’s exactly what a man trying to lull me into a false sense of security would say.”
He steps behind me, looping the bandanna gently around my eyes. “Just trust me.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter, but I’m smiling.
He ties it carefully, fingers brushing my cheek. “Too tight?”
“No, but if I break an ankle because you made me hike blindfolded through the wilderness, I’m haunting your ass.”
His laugh rumbles against my back as he grabs both of my hands. “Noted.”
He guides me slowly, giving small instructions like, “step down here,” and “little to the left.” His hand stays firm at my lower back, thumb pressing little reassuring circles into my dress as he walks me toward the truck.
“You’re doing great,” he says.
“I better be getting a gold star for this,” I mutter.
He chuckles again. “Better. You’re getting me.”
“Debatable prize.”
That earns me a light swat on the hip before he opens the passenger door and helps me inside, his hands careful and patient like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“You comfy?”
“As comfy as someone can be when they’ve been kidnapped by a man in cowboy boots and a fancy suit.”
He laughs, shutting the door.
I bite back my grin, pulse thrumming under my skin. Wherever we’re going, I have a feeling I’m not ready for it.
