Page 23 of Fall Love

I lift one foot, roll my ankle, and set it down, then repeat the action with my other ankle.

“Feet bothering you again?” Tate asks.

Him and his concern for my toes.

“It’s nothing.”

He laughs, glancing toward the ground. “I wouldn’t say it’s nothing. Let’s find you a seat.”

Behind him, Landon is already slipping into conversation with his other cousins. The noise of them leaves a small opening between Tate and me for what I need to say.

“Actually . . .” I start, then stop. Lick my lips. Fist my fingers. Then tell myself not to overthink this, but also that a beer tent isn’t the right place to tell him what I have to say. “How would you feel about a walk?”

His brows lift, that easy smile still present, but there’s a shift in his attention now. His gaze more focused on me.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” My voice catches slightly on the last word as I swallow past the nerves in my throat.

His expression softens. “Sure.”

I hate the slight eagerness on his face. Like he thinks I’m about to slip him the deed to Rusty’s Wrecks.

He probably has forgotten all about our night together. The way we kissed and teased. The tickle of his fingers and the plunge of his tongue. The way we easily came together in a variety of positions, ignoring the cold as our bodies heated each other.

“Ready to go?”

I jolt from the X-rated memories and nod, noticing he’s finished his beer as well. He sets his hand on my lower back while I lead us through the crowd. When I’m accidentally jostled, because someone stepped back while I passed too closely behind him, Tate responds.

“Watch it, man.” His voice is firm, tone clear and protective. Be careful.

“It’s nothing,” I state, glancing from Tate to the other man. “Wide load coming through.” I run my palm over my belly to emphasize my comment.

“Sorry, pretty lady,” the man addresses my stomach and then winks at me.

Tate leans against my back. His breath a whisper at my ear. “Don’t make me warn him a second time.”

Caught off guard by the possessive heat of his words and the shiver that ripples down my spine, I sputter. “Easy, Driver. I don’t know too many men attracted to a nine-months pregnant woman.”

In fact, I don’t know any.

I didn’t miss how he slipped his hand through his hair the other day, swiping it clean after holding onto my hand for five seconds. He helped me stand from the bench near the lighthouse and held on longer than I expected. His palm was warm, comforting even, and I settled in to hold on. Then he suddenly released me and dug those fingers into his hair, like he didn’t like touching me.

He huffs and wraps his arm around me, using himself as a shield to work us through the crowd. Once we exit the tent, he slips his arm from my shoulders, but not before running his hand down my back.

It’s nothing, I tell myself. But a crackling blaze tingles down my spine.

The wind whips up around us, sending a small collection of early fallen leaves scattering near our feet. While autumn doesn’t officially begin for a few more weeks, fall is definitely in the air tonight.

Change is coming.

“Should we head toward The Docks?”

“Sure.” I shrug.

Lovewell Landing has only a single main street that flows through our town into others along the coast. But another road runs perpendicular to the byway, named Dock Street, leading to an old fishing town, preserved now with quaint shops and small cafes. A casual restaurant anchors the river that rushes through the docks and exits into the larger bay, where a marina is set up opposite the original fishing town.

We walk close together, elbows occasionally brushing as we make our way down the slightly inclined walk toward The Docks. Most boutiques and shops will be closed, but people can still walk down the worn deck lining one side of the river. Adirondack chairs are placed at the end of the strip for people who wish to watch the boats go in and out of the marina, and we walk in that direction.

Low lights illuminate the long passage. Bobbing buoys ding in the distance. Most private boats will be removed from the marina soon, adding to the sudden quiet of the town before leaf peepers arrive. The vacancy in the boat slips signifies the end of summer.