I grinned and bent my knees dramatically, lowering myself so she could reach. “Better, shortstack?”
“Much better, giant.” She laughed and dug her fingers into my scalp, massaging with way more enthusiasm than skill. “You’re gonna end up with shampoo in your ears at this rate.”
I closed my eyes, smiling under the warm water. “I don’t even care. Feels too good.”
She bit her lip, trying not to grin. “You’re making it really hard to even want to go to work today.”
“Good,” I said, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I want you thinking about me all shift.”
“Oh, I will,” she promised, her hands sliding up my chest. “But fair warning—if you keep talking like this, you might not make it through the front door tonight before I jump you.”
I laughed softly against her lips. “That’s not exactly discouraging me.”
We stayed under the spray a few minutes longer, trading lazy kisses and quiet laughter, the kind that felt like pure happiness even with everything else swirling around us. When the water finally ran cooler, we stepped out, skin flushed and soft. We dried each other with the same slow tenderness—towels brushing over arms and backs, a soft kiss pressed to her damp shoulder, my fingers gently combing through her wet hair. She handed me a spare toothbrush and smiled when I used it beside her at the sink.
We dressed in comfortable silence—her in fresh jeans and a soft gray sweater, me in the clean clothes I’d just grabbed from my trailer. By the time we were ready, the ordinary activity of getting ready together felt surprisingly natural, like we’d been doing it for years.
“I’ll drive you to work,” I said as I pulled on my boots.
Becca nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. “Okay.”
We stepped out into the morning air. I opened the passenger door of my truck for her, then climbed in on the driver’s side. As we rolled slowly out of the campground, the gravel crunching under the tires, I glanced over at her.
“I’ll pick you up after your shift,” I told her. “Then we’ll have the evening together.”
She turned toward me, eyes bright. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either.” I reached over and rested my hand on her thigh. She covered it with hers, fingers lacing through mine.
“Tonight,” she said softly.
“Tonight,” I echoed.
The drive to town passed in comfortable quiet. For these few minutes, it was just us—happy, together, and already looking forward to the night ahead.
When I pulled up in front of her work, I leaned across the seat and kissed her, slow and lingering. “I’ll see you later.”
She nodded, cheeks a little pink, then slipped out of the truck with one last smile back at me.
I watched her go inside before pulling away, already counting the hours until I could pick her up and bring her home to the evening we’d just been teasing each other about—the new, unguarded space we were finally stepping into together.
Chapter 26
Becca
“Welcome back toSomebody Said in Sweetbriar—I’ve been thinking about the space between knowing something is coming and it actually arriving. There’s a whole life that happens in that gap. I’m starting to think that’s the part that matters most.”
The day had been mercifully ordinary—hours of answering the same questions about breakfast burritos and lottery tickets, restocking the hot case and the scratch-off display that emptied almost as fast as I filled them, and one very long debate with a customer about whether the sausage or bacon burrito was superior. By the time my shift ended, the steady routine of it all felt almost surreal after the intensity of last night and this morning.
Levi’s truck pulled up just as I stepped out of work, the familiar rumble cutting through the quiet evening air. He leaned over to open the passenger door for me with that easy smile I was already getting used to seeing directed at me. “Ready to go home?” he asked.
I slid in beside him, the day’s tension melting away the second I buckled in. “Very ready.”
We made one quick stop at Golden Dragon. The paper bags crinkled warmly in my lap the whole drive back to the campground, fragrant with orange chicken, vegetable lo mein, and a stack of egg rolls with extra sweet and sour sauce packets on the side. He hadn’t needed to ask what I wanted. He already knew.
When we finally pulled onto the gravel road leading home, Levi glanced over at me, one hand resting lightly on my thigh. “Tonight’s just us,” he said softly, that small, private smile curving his lips, the one that had always felt like it belonged only to me, only now it carried the quiet comfort of someone who’d already held me through the night and wanted to do it again.
We carried plates to the tiny table, lamp glowing soft gold, river song drifting through the cracked window like a lullaby. We ate slowly, sharing the egg rolls, our knees brushing under the table. Every glance lingered longer than the one before.
