“I’m not above dropping you,” I said flatly.
He tipped his head back and twisted just enough to whisper near my ear, “You wouldn’t dare.”
No, I wouldn’t.
Once Sadie got a few photos, I eased Jericho back to his feet and fixed his hair when he pushed his hood back again. We let her rearrange us a couple more times and snap a few more pictures before we were once more on the move to our last location.
He kept hold of my hand again, and I was content to let him. At least my palms weren’t clammy with nerves anymore. We followed Sadie’s directions down the trail in companionable quiet until a bridge came into view around a bend.
It looked impressive in the golden light, with its tall pilings and support beams crossed in an X over the top like the perfect frame for our final photos. At the opposite end of the bridge, the first hints of sunset red made for a beautiful backdrop to the yellow and orange leaves that shivered in the faint breeze.
The wooden planks creaked beneath us as Jericho dragged me to the middle of the bridge and pulled me to him. He let the momentum carry him back until my body pinned him to the railing, and then he nippedhis bottom lip between his teeth. I was quickly learning that meant he was holding something back.
“What?” I asked softly, curling my arms around his back to cross over the top of the railing.
One of his hands slid up my chest until his palm cupped my jaw.
My heart lurched.
“Come down here,” he said, just as soft.
I leaned in, and he tipped his forehead against mine when I got close enough. His eyes fluttered closed, and for several long moments, he just breathed, slow and even. Comfortable and at peace. Aside from the chirp of crickets and the faint click of the camera shutter, the woods were silent around us.
I didn’t want the moment to end. This afternoon had been the balm I hadn’t known I needed to ease my anxiety. If I could bottle this quiet contentment and bring it with me to Boston, I would.
When Jericho’s eyes opened again, he struggled to focus on me so close, and a soft smile spread across his lips. “Hi,” he breathed.
Somewhere over the last hour, I’d forgotten we were strangers. That we barely knew anything about each other, and we might not ever meet again after tonight. But for once, I wasn’t boxed in by a future that felt inevitable. I was rooted in the now, and I planned to stay here as long as I could.
“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” I whispered.
His smile dropped away, replaced with a sort of wide-eyed surprise, and he gave the faintest of nods.
“I think I would like that.”
I slid a hand up to rest against the back of his head, then closed the scant distance between us to press my lips against his. He tasted like coffee and chocolate and cinnamon. A giddy sort of frisson swept over my skin and made my hair stand on end, and I pulled him closer.
His other arm curled around my waist as he pushed up onto his tiptoes and into the kiss. I lost track of how long it went on before he dropped back onto his heels and smiled sheepishly up at me. Then he buried his face in my chest and cinched both arms around my waist to keep me from pulling away.
“Too much?” I murmured into his hair.
He shook his head and mumbled against my shirt, “It was nice. We should do it again sometime.”
I chuckled. “A little hard to do that if you hide from me.”
He pulled back and puffed a breath to try to blow his hair out of his face. “Not hiding,” he said, still avoiding my eyes. “Regaining my composure.”
“Composure is overrated.” I pushed his hair back. “I like you a little undone.”
A noise halfway between a groan and a whine escaped him, and his face flushed redder than I’d seen it yet. “That’s unfair,” he grumbled. “I can’t be the only one here who isn’t composed.”
Leaning down again, I ghosted my lips over his forehead. “I assure you, I am far from composed right now.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“I’m putting on a good face for Sadie,” I said, loud enough to carry to where she crouched at the end of the bridge.
She laughed.
