And now I’m waiting, too, with bated breath.
I see her chest rise and fall faster, almost like she’s panting. Her eyes flit to mine only for a second, and in that second, my whole soul leans forward.
You’re safe with me. Don’t you dare shrink.
I don’t say it. But I think she gets the message.
Because when her eyes flick back to Shane’s, there’s a twinkle in them.
A twinkle that looks like mischief.
She winks at Shane?—
And takes an absolutely enormous bite.
Sauce squeezes out all over her face. Pulled pork drips from the back, splattering on the plate below. Grease leaves a trail down one arm.
It’s carnage.
And it’s making my eyes wet.
Shane dives in, too, his bite the same delicious disaster as Kayla’s.
Kayla grins at him, chewing with happy, unshed tears in her eyes. Shane spots the sauce on Kayla’s cheeks and nose, and he starts giggling, revealing sauce all over his own face. And that makes Kayla start laughing.
And soon, we’re all laughing. Taking huge, chaotic bites like this is our first meal in years, Kayla and I with tears spilling down our cheeks.
Because in each bite—each magnificent, messy bite—I see everything: her courage, her goodness, her wild, hungry heart.
And I’m not sure I’ve ever loved anything more.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SEAN
Kayla’s still finding pockets of barbecue sauce on her hands when we pull up to the hotel.
“That’s my sixth wet wipe. What did Big Hank make that sauce with?”
“Sugar. And love,” I say, earning a laughing groan from her.
I grab my duffle bag and take her hand as she leads me through the lobby and toward the elevator.
“I booked a room,” I say quietly, because I don’t want her thinking I have any expectations about what happens next. “But I should probably give you a proper goodnight.”
We step onto the elevator, and her lips stretch into a smile. “You really should.” Then she cranes her head up, and I lean down and plant my lips on hers.
Well, I’m about to.
Someone stops the door right before it can close, and …
I hold back a groan.
In walks Fletch and about half of the freaking Mudflaps, wearing swim trunks, pool slides, and altogether too many abs.
(Though mine are better.)
“Sean, my man!” Lucas Fischer says, holding his fist out.
