Page 268 of Worth the Trip

“Very.”

He stared.

I smiled.

“Oh, you hate when I steal that answer too.”

“Baby, at this point, you stealing my vocabulary, my shirts, my fries, my side of the bed, and now my ice cream.”

“You have survived every incident.”

“Barely.”

I dipped my spoon toward the pint again.

This time, Landon caught my wrist before I reached it.

I looked at his hand.

Then at him.

“You planning to defend frozen dairy with force?”

“Nah.” He released me immediately, scooped a bite himself, and brought it toward my mouth. “Open.”

I did.

His eyes stayed on mine while I ate.

When the spoon lowered, I smiled.

“So now I’m allowed?”

Landon rested the pint between us.

“Hershey, you can have whatever’s mine.”

My smile faded.

The sentence had not sounded rehearsed.

That made it reach further.

“That sounds broader than ice cream.”

“It was.”

I looked at him.

He held my eyes without softening the meaning or covering it with another joke.

Months earlier, I might have inspected the words until I found something to fear.

Tonight, I leaned closer across the narrow space between our chairs.

“I like being yours.”

Something moved across his face.