Page 18 of A Week To Wed
And yet, something happens. The tips of her shoulder-length hair sweep over the backs of my fingers when she looks up at me. It’s the slightest contact, but that’s all it takes to feel a spark. The tiniest nudge. My mind doesn’t know what to do, but my body knows.
I pivot my hand that’s resting on her shoulder and touch the strands of hair that hover there. Just petting.
Maisy sniffles, wipes her nose on the hankie and dabs her eyes with the backs of her fingers.
Her gorgeous stormy blue eyes are bloodshot and shining with tears when she looks up at me. The makeup she puts around her eyes is smudged, and her sweet face is red and splotchy.
The tears still fall, but her sobs are slowly calming. I can’t stand to see her this way. What do I do? Do I hug her? Tell her she looks pretty?
Ah, hell.
She sucks in a ragged breath when I come close and fix my lips against hers.
A gasp of surprise escapes her, and I don’t know what else to do, so I kiss her harder.
She doesn’t fight back. That’s also something.
Finally, Maisy’s body melts against mine. Her hands rest on the front of my shirt. That feels nice. My arms reach around her middle and pull her tight against me as I sweep my lips over hers.
I feel the wetness of her cheeks against my cheeks, salting our kiss. She’s breathing heavily, but at least the crying stopped.
When I pull back from the kiss, I run the pads of my fingers along her cheekbone, rubbing away her tears.
“Now. Go on back to the house,” I say softly. “Have a bath. Relax. Rest. Take some time for yourself. You’ve been working too hard. That’s an order from your fiancé.”
Maisy looks so shocked, I think she might slap me.
ChapterEleven
Maisy
I ride back to the barn with my stomach full of butterflies and my head buzzing like hummingbird wings.
I have no idea what I’m going to do about my binder. I have no idea what I’ll do about all the receipts, the deposit slips, and the fabric swatches.
But that’s not what I’m thinking about right now.
Lincoln just kissed me more energetically than I’ve ever been kissed in my whole life.
I smell like horses and mud. And my mouth tastes like him. My lips are still in shock, and I have a pleasant burn on my chin from his scruff.
What am I doing? I suppose I’m going back to the house to take a bath and the rest of the day off, as he said.
Why? Why would I do that when I have so much to do? I don’t know, other than he told me to.
I don’t like people telling me what to do, but Lincoln has filled my head with some crap about taking a break.
And I’m going to do that.
I’ll do it as soon as I call the dress shop to cancel the feathered dress in favor of a more affordable one off the rack. I don’t care if I blow through all my money, but I can’t let this man I just met spend that much on me.
It wouldn’t be right. The tiny, niggling negative voice in my head agrees with this sentiment, adding, “Because you don’t deserve someone going to this much trouble for you.”
I wish I didn’t believe that to be true.
ChapterTwelve
Lincoln
