Page 123 of Josephine and Clay

“That your doing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Her gaze drops. “You were laughing.”

“Dangerous habit.”

“I liked it.”

I stop near the little path leading to her place. She stops too.

Neither of us moves.

The porch light beams behind her, catching in her hair, warming the freckles across her nose. She looks tired suddenly. Beautiful and tired and scared in a way that makes a protectiveness rise hard and fast in my chest.

I don’t know what to do with that either.

“Josie,” I say.

Her eyes lift.

I step closer, slower than I want, because crutches ruin every dramatic impulse a man has. Still, she doesn’t move away.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” I say.

Her lips part slightly.

I should make it a joke. I should make it easy. That’s what I’m good at.

I don’t.

“More than I should,” I add.

Her throat works. “Clay…”

“I know.” My voice drops. “Bad idea.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say complicated.”

“That’s worse.”

“It’s more accurate.”

I look at her mouth. Then back at her eyes. “Tell me not to kiss you.”

She goes still.

The night holds its breath.

She should say it. She’s sensible. Practical. Smart enough to know I’m a mess with a broken leg and too much pride and not one clue what happens next.

But she doesn’t.