“Yep.”
“And what were these completelynot wholesomethoughts?”
“I didn’t say they wereunwholesome,” I said, dryly. “Just… persistent.”
Her smile bloomed again, slower this time.
I stood and held out my hand. “You’ve already done half the trail. Want to walk the rest with me?”
She blinked up at me. “Actually, I just took a shortcut that shaves off a mile.” Then she took my hand.
I helped her up, and she stayed close. Just a little closer than she needed to.
“We could grab coffee at the end,” I added, like it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was.
Her fingers were still wrapped around mine when she said, “You’re bribing me with espresso?”
“Desperate times.”
She nudged my shoulder. “You’re not what I expected, Ben Jensen.”
“And what did you expect?”
She gave me a once-over. “More grunting. Less hand-holding.”
I arched a brow. “You saying I’m soft now?”
“I’m saying you’re full of surprises.”
We started down the trail, side by side, boots crunching softly on the path, and I never let go of her hand after helping her off the bench.
For the first time since I’d arrived at the Honey Leaf Lodge, my thoughts weren’t fighting me.
They’d gone quiet.
Which, I realized, might be the most dangerous thing of all.
We hit the last bend in the trail just as the trees began to thin. Ahead, the town of Buttercup Lake came into view. Its postcard charm was on full display.
From here, it looked… peaceful, and I finally let go of her hand.
Main Street curved in a lazy loop around the square, lined with flower boxes and shopfronts that looked like they’d been plucked from a Hallmark set. The bakery’s striped awning fluttered in the breeze. The cozy coffee shop, Buttercup Java, was already buzzing, both literally and figuratively.
Fifi walked beside me, her steps light but unhurried. Her fingers brushed against mine once. Then again.
The third time, I took the hint.
Our hands tangled together like it was no big deal.
Itwasa big deal.
“Alright,” she said, breath slightly winded in that cute, not-out-of-shape-just-talking-a-lot way. “Honest review time. What do you think of Buttercup Lake?”
I glanced around, pretending to weigh it all. “Well. A goose hasn’t mauled me, so that’s a plus.”
“Give it time.”
