Page 115 of Finding New Dreams

“Okay,” I whispered.

His smile flashed once. He gently led me off the dance floor and away from the reception.

The playground was busy with a horde of kids who’d stripped down their wedding clothes to monkey around. A few people here and there sat on park benches or walked through the pine tree grove in the square.

We ambled through the spicy pines, Flynn holding my hand, which helped me not trip over roots or pinecones. The trill of frogs by the river and the laughter of partygoers made the night feel warm and content.

If only I could enjoy it more.

He broke our silence. “Thank you for the painting. It truly is an ‘exquisite moment.’”

I smiled. “I always liked the thought of finding rare, special moments and capturing them forever. I named my gallery for what I hoped to achieve.”

“Mission accomplished. Although I’ve never had a painting of myself.”

“You can always get rid of it or sell it or—”

He tugged on my hand so that I faced him in the shadowy twilight. “Never. It’s a Rose Rafferty original. Priceless.”

Warmth blossomed in my chest. “If you say so. Now what is this wager you want?”

He leaned closer, his eyes searching mine. “It’s a simple question. You get it right, you can name your prize. You get it wrong…and I get mine.”

My heart stumbled. No specifics. He wouldn’t be so bold as to take something I didn’t offer willingly, right? We had agreed that the other night would be our last. No matter how hard it’d been to see him walk out my door, we’d agreed.

But no. I knew Flynn. He would never ask for something I wasn’t willing to give. Gina was right. I trusted him.

“Agreed,” I said.

He pressed his lips together. His thumb caressed my hand over and over. “What is my favorite thing about Tangled River?”

I blanched. What kind of question was that? Did he expect me to say “me”? That’d be extremely presumptuous on my part. Unless he knew I wouldn’t say myself. But then he could pick any subjective thing.

Maybe he wanted me to lose. Or, more to the point, maybe he wanted me to let him win this time. But I couldn’t make it too easy.

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “Your amazing friends, family, and well-meaning, gossipy neighbors?”

He chuckled. “Close, but no.”

My pulse jumped wildly. “Then you win. What prize do you want?”

Releasing my hand, he cupped my face and stroked his thumbs over my cheeks. I shivered at his warmth, his nearness. The feeling that we shouldn’t be doing this to ourselves was immediately overridden by the desire to keep going.

“A kiss,” he whispered. “One last kiss before I go.”

“Just…one?” I swayed into him, my fingers already sinking into his long, soft hair.

“Just one.” His fingers trailed down my neck, a soft touch that rippled through my body. “Please, Rose.”

With a strangled noise, I kissed him with everything I had. Every butterfly-shaped, heart-meeting, soul-bending feeling. I tried to set it all free with that kiss that I was never supposed to have again.

And through the strength and agony pouring from his kiss, I knew he was trying to do the same.

We broke apart, gasping, clinging to each other.

But he didn’t even let me catch my breath before he rasped, “You. It was you.” He turned and strode away like the trees were on fire.

Then he was gone.

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