Liz and Lawrence paused at the corner with Deck, admiring the mountains. Eleanor and Reid drifted a few steps ahead toward the courthouse, their footsteps falling into the same rhythm without either of them trying.
A breeze brushed down Main Street, lifting a strand of Eleanor’s hair across her cheek. Before she could tuck it away, Reid reached over and gently did it for her, fingers barely grazing her skin.
“Your parents seem pretty taken with me,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself.
Eleanor’s mouth curved. “That could be dangerous.”
“Oh?” he said, sounding far too interested in that possibility.
“Yes.”
“Why’s that?”
She tipped her head up to look at him. “Because if my mother likes you, she’s already planning our wedding.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Well,” he murmured, “that escalated quickly. But I do appreciate a woman who moves fast.”
They walked a few more steps, shoulders close enough that the back of his hand brushed hers now and then. Each time, a little spark jumped in her chest. Reid lowered his voice, like he was shifting them onto a more private frequency.
“You know,” he said, “we were right in the middle of negotiations the other night when your parents arrived.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Negotiations.”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Very important negotiations.”
“And you plan to resume these negotiations?”
“Oh, I do.”
Eleanor slowed her steps, letting the others drift a bit farther behind. She turned just enough that they were almost toe-to-toe on the sidewalk. “Oh, you do… do you?”
Reid’s answering grin was lazy and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to chase her answer—and no intention of giving up. “Absolutely.”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on his mouth before she forced it back up to his eyes. “Well,” she said lightly—though her pulse had decided this was not light at all—“Deck would say my Irish eyes should be smiling about that.”
Reid laughed. “That sounds much more charming when he says it.”
“Everything sounds charming when Deck says it,” she admitted.
He watched her another beat, something threading through the humor. “So,” he said, tilting his head, “when do these negotiations resume?”
Eleanor pretended to think, eyes drifting toward the mountains as if the answer might be hidden there.
“Well… a proper negotiation requires neutral territory. And an activity. And dinner.”
Reid nodded, gaze never leaving her face. “I’m beginning to understand the complexity of this process.”
She smiled, slow and a little secret. “There’s a music festival Saturday night over in Bryson City,” she said. “They set up down by the river. Food trucks, live bands, the whole thing.”
Reid’s eyebrows lifted. “That actually sounds perfect.”
“It is.”
He studied her for a moment, like he was memorizing the way she looked in the afternoon light. “Saturday then?”
