"Do you ever want to leave?" I ask.
The question slips out before I can stop it.
"No."
His answer is quick, but not defensive.
"No?"
He shakes his head.
"I know that's weird. Most people can't wait to get out of a small town."
His gaze moves over the river, the trees, the mountains surrounding us.
"But this place..." He pauses. "This place will always be my home."
"You really love it here."
His eyes return to mine.
"Yeah."
It’s such a simple and honest answer.
A breeze moves through the trees, rustling the leaves above us. The sunlight warms my damp skin, but my attention stays fixed on the man standing next to me.
Dean steps closer. The movement is subtle, careful in a way. Like he's giving me every chance to pull away but I don't want to.
"Paisley."
The way he says my name makes something flutter low in my stomach. I almost tell him to call me ‘Paddles’ instead. No one’s ever given me a nickname before and I like the way he teases me.
His warm green eyes drop to my lips, then flick back to mine.
"Can I kiss you?"
Maybe I should hesitate. Maybe I should remember that I met this man this morning. Or maybe I should point out that this is insane.
But when I look at Dean, I don't see a stranger.
I see the man who caught my kayak before I tipped over. The man who made me laugh when I wanted to crawl into a hole out of embarrassment.
So, I nod.
His hand lifts slowly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from my face, fingers lingering for half a second. His fingertips barely graze my skin, but the touch sends a shiver through me.
Maybe it's the cold water dripping from my clothes. Or maybe it's the fact that a man I met less than a day ago is looking at me like I'm the only woman in the world.
Then his lips touch mine.
Soft and sweet, like he's giving me time to change my mind. The second I lean into him, something restless inside me settles.
The whole world continues exactly as it was before. Water rushes over rocks. Kids laugh somewhere down the shoreline.
Except everything feels different.
Dean's hand slides to my waist, steady and warm even through my damp clothes. His thumb brushes against my side, and my fingers curl around the front of his soaked T-shirt without thinking.
