Page 162 of Worth the Trip

I wiped the trace of juice from her bottom lip with my thumb.

Her breathing shifted.

Then I tasted it.

Nolani reached for her coffee. “You’re trying to make breakfast indecent.”

“Nah. Breakfast doing fine on its own.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you keep putting your foot against mine.”

She glanced beneath the table.

Didn’t move it.

Exactly.

We ate while the cabin brightened around us. She asked about the photographs on the shelves, and I gave her enough family history to guarantee Lennox would accuse me of defamation later. One picture showed him around seven wearing swim goggles, church shorts, and dress shoes at the lake.

Nolani demanded future access.

I promised nothing.

When breakfast ended, she collected our plates.

I let her.

No hearing.

No committee vote.

No lecture.

She wanted to wash them.

I dried.

Our hips bumped twice at the sink, and Nolani hummed beneath her breath while sunlight warmed the counter. Nothing about it needed a lesson. I liked being there with her. Liked watching soap collect around her fingers and feeling her elbow knock mine when I deliberately put a fork in the wrong drawer just to irritate her.

When the last dish was dry, I set the towel aside and drew her against me.

“I got one more place I wanna take you before we go back to the field.”

“Should I be concerned that your plans keep escalating?”

“Probably.”

“Another unexpected variable?”

“Nah.” I settled both hands at her waist. “You the whole plan today.”

Her fingers curled into my sweats.

“That was smooth.”

“That was true.”