I hook my thumb under his, brushing it against the inside of his palm. “What did you picture?”
He exhales deeply, his shoulders slumping then hitching one up. “I thought I’d see you and come up with a grand plan. Deadlines and blueprints for what to do.” He shakes his head, carefully moves his leg over a fallen tree, then waits for me to follow. Never breaking the contact between us. “But it was more about building a bridge and hoping we’d find our way back to each other.My manly feelings are a bit salty that it’s ended up including supervised forest walks.”
“You’re not supervised.”
“You literally packed electrolyte tablets.”
“That’s preventative care.” A laugh bubbles from low inmy gut until it bursts and sprouts out of my lips. The vibrations feel strange in my chest.
Nate glances over at me again. “You’re different too,” he says.
The comment makes me blink, and I wait for him to explain what he means, but he just shrugs timidly.
“You used to wrap everything around work. To the point that, I think, it made it easy to shut the door on me and us back in Chicago.” He shifts his gaze to me, his smile timidly uneven. “And I fucking deserved it.” He nudges a rock off the path with his boot. “But you take time off now. To visit Julian over the summer, be there for my mom, and for me. You’re no less driven, but… I think you’re making space for other things.”
The silence of research over the loudness of constant patient care makes room for lots of things. Turns out it makes room for your own thoughts. Thoughts of really wanting to work on both research and patients, and… other possibilities.
I kick the corner of my mouth up. “And what do you think I’m making space for?”
He stops short, and I bump into him. He shoots out his hands, steadying my shoulders before one slides down to catch my hand and then back up again, his fingertips raking lightly into my nape.
“Me.”
When I look up, he’s studying my face in that focused way he has when something matters.
“And what do you think the verdict is?” I ask.
He exhales slowly. “I don’t think you have one yet.”
He shifts a step closer, the space between us narrowing until I can feel the warmth coming off his chest.
“You’re right, I don’t,” I say. “But I pay attention now.”
He arches his brow, thumb brushing under my jaw.
“To what feels right.”
His eyes soften. “And does this feel right?”
The breeze lifts a rogue strand of hair across my cheek. Nate tucks it behind my ear and settles both hands on my neck, one threading into my ponytail while the other traces the curve of my jaw and throat, my pulse fluttering against his thumb.
I stand on my tiptoes, and lean in, pressing my lips against his. I’m not used to the way his beard brushes against my much-fuller lips, and at first, that’s what our kiss is. Mouth against mouth, waiting—a suspended instant before a signal crosses the synapse, on the edge of becoming something more.
I’m the one who tips the balance. Turning the pressure into a kiss, then opening the seam of my lips enough for my tongue to slide into Nate’s welcoming mouth. I slide my palms up his chest and curl into the fabric of his flannel shirt as I press closer, tilting my head until the angle fits. His breath catches, warm against my mouth, and the sound sends a small electric ripple through my belly.
I’m overstimulated by everything—the scrape of his beard against my lips, the slow thud of my pulse where his thumb rests, his tongue taking over the kiss with demanding intensity. I could probably chart the cascade of signals firing right now, but the scientist in me fades quickly under the woman who’s relearned this man over Wednesday book club and across state lines.
His tongue is commanding, but it isn’t impatient. It isn’t anguished but determined.
When we finally pull apart, Nate rests his forehead against mine, his breath hitching softly and his cognac fiery eyes glinting.
“What do you think, Doctor,” he murmurs. “Am I worth the trouble?”
I huff out a laugh.Pending further observation.Idon’t want to tease him, though. I need him to know. “More than worth it.”
His thumb traces a slow circle against the back of my neck before he drops one more kiss on my lips. The tickle of his beard gone before I can kiss him back.
We stand like that for another second before continuing down the trail, our hands finding each other again naturally. The path curves through a stand of taller trees, shadows stretching longer across the ground.
