His hand finds mine, our fingers threading before his lips brush the back of my hand in a tender, deliberate kiss.Warmth unfurls in my chest, stealing the breath right out of me.
The last time his mouth touched me was in that hallway, but somehow, this feels more intimate.
I glance down at our joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly across my knuckles, igniting a pulse between my thighs I’ve kept on lockdown for far too long.
As we roll to a stop at a red light, Knox gives my hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze finding mine.
“Fostering’s always meant to be temporary.” The edges of his words begin to fray. “You go in knowing it’ll end. Promise yourself you won’t catch feelings. But then something starts to feel…much more than you expected. Suddenly, letting go is no longer part of the plan.” A beat passes before he looks back at theroad. “Maybe we don’t need a plan yet. Maybe we just hold on until we can’t.”
I fix my attention back toward the window, watching sunrays shift across the windshield.
He’s talking about Stripe and Shadow.
At least, I think he is.
But the truth settles like a stone in my belly because, in a way, Stripe and Shadow represent us.
Temporary. No strings.
Yet, still, I’m feeling things I told myself I wouldn’t.
Knox clears his throat, shattering my wandering thoughts. “How about we pivot to something less heavy? Get to morerealstuff.” He slants me a look, one brow raised like he’s about to profess something wildly inappropriate. “Tell me—have you ever had a lobster roll?”
Wait. What?
His question catches me off guard in the best way, a grin tugging at my lips before I can stop it.
“Seriously?” I chuckle. “That’s your version ofrealstuff?”
“Damn right.” His mouth tips into that half grin I’m sure has melted many hearts. “This is vital information, Cami. Could change the entire trajectory of our day.”
I shake my head, a little embarrassed. “I’ve actually never had one.”
“Never?” He shoots me a mirthful glare. “How are we even co-parents?”
“To be fair, my dad’s allergic to shellfish. Growing up, we never had seafood in the house. By the time I could try it, I just…didn’t.”
“For that, you get a pass,” he says, hand still wrapped around mine. “But, you’ve been missing out on a vital life-changing experience.”
I laugh. “So what, you’re going to fix that today?”
His expression shifts, playful now, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Let me take you out for your first lobster roll.”
It’s not a demand. It’s an invitation.
And somehow, it makes my heart flip in a way that nothing casual ever should. Note to self: resend my whole body that no-strings memo.
“Sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”
“That’s because I am.”
Harbor Grill sits at the marina’s edge, all sun-bleached wood and nautical charm, with tables spilling onto a salt-worn patio.
Teal trim, faded by years of sea air, frames the doorway, and a hand-painted sign near the oak host stand readsSeat Yourself, so we do, Knox leading us to a shaded spot near the patio railing.
And despite Harbor Grill’s laid-back charm, Knox pulls out my chair as if we’re dining at a five-star steakhouse, a small, gentlemanly gesture most guys don’t bother with anymore.
I settle into my seat as he slides onto one across from me, mahogany eyes blazing with amusement.
