Page 48 of Dandelions and Smoke

She nudges my shoulder, playful but intentional, letting me know it’s okay to shelf this for now and go back to enjoying our night. Her joke catches me off guard, but it’s not surprising to learn.

“Imagine, if the Grinch didn’t hold a grudge, then we wouldn’t have one of the best Christmas movies in cinematic history.” She winks and tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth as she nuzzles herself into my side and settles in as the movie starts.

The narrator is going on about something that has to do with snowflakes being special when a thought occurs to me.

“What about Die Hard?” I ask, referring to one of the greatest Christmas movies in my opinion.

The piece of popcorn headed toward her mouth stops midair in her hand, and the death glare I receive slowly turns over her shoulder until it lands on me, making me bite back a laugh.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Once I’ve composed myself, we relax into one another and settle in, sharing snacks and sideways glances while Cindy Lou Who sings about finding Christmas. The ambient glow of the screen washes over us, throwing our tangled shadows against the inside of my truck. Wrapped in the smell of buttered popcorn and the quiet rhythm of her breathing, I let the rest of the world fade into the dark, grateful that tonight has been everything I could hope for and excited that this is only the beginning.

ELEVEN

RORY

As far as first dates go, I have to give it to him. Tonight has been amazing so far. Leaning into him as the movie comes to a close and the Grinch saves Christmas, I can’t help but realize how perfect this feels. I’m filled with a feeling of contentment and peace that I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before. Like ever. This isn’t a feeling I’m used to, but it’s certainly one that I want to welcome. He’s been the perfect gentleman except for, of course, when he wasn’t, but I definitely didn’t mind.

His running into that woman wasn’t ideal, but it led us to talk about something real. With so many meaningless conversations shared between people every day, it’s nice to get to talk about something that matters, something important. Hearing more about his relationship and the way it’s left him feeling like he deserves this punishment gives me a glimpse of the real man that Chief is, and that’s what I want.

If this thing between us is going to work, we need full honesty and vulnerability, in a way I’ve never had with anyone before. When he opens up to me, I feel closer to him and can’t help but feel grateful that I’m the one he feels safe sharing his deepest thoughts with.

I have so many questions, God, like so many, but when he talks, I put every last bit of effort into listening and letting him go at his own pace because I know that’s what he needs—even if when it comes to me, I sound more like a rambling chicken with my head cut off, somehow still making noise… The memory of the unfortunate accident that happened at Lucas’s home, Little Bird Ranch, flashes through my mind, sending chills down my spine. Some things you can’t unsee.

“Are you cold?” Chief asks, noticing—something I’m starting to realize he does a lot of.

It’s almost as though he anticipates my needs before I’ve even figured them out. Turning my head, I notice how he looks at me with a tenderness that’s filled with something else. I’m overwhelmed with a dizzy sensation that comes with standing at the edge of something wonderful. In the past, I’ve avoided real connections with people to spare myself the trouble since everything has always felt so uncertain. But for once, things are steady. I have roots, family, friends, and a home. Looking at him, I realize how much I want him to be a part of that. Butterflies churn low in my stomach before I adjust myself, reaching for his hoodie that I have stashed in my backpack.

“I was actually thinking about chickens, but now that you mention it, it has become a little chilly.” I pull his hoodie over my head, and the look he gives me sends warmth blooming beneath my skin. “I’ve been in a skin-tight sweater, showing off the girls all night for your viewing pleasure, and this is what does it for you, huh?”

The grin he gives me is pure trouble wrapped in charm and promise that this night is far from over.

“What can I say?” he says, voice low and gravelly. “I like seeing my name across your back.”

Heat floods my cheeks, and I laugh at what feels like the wrong moment, but I can’t help the way he makes me feel so many things that they’re bubbling out of me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” I cover my mouth with the cuff of his hoodie, which entirely covers my hand. “I like having your name across my back, too. It’s very,” I poke a finger to my cheek and look up as though I’m pondering something. “Possessive… in a sexy, claimy way.”

His eyes trace me, something darkening in his eyes as they travel to my lips and back to meet mine. My breath catches under his heady gaze as he tucks a curl behind my ear, the tenderness of the gesture sending a flutter through me. His fingers barely graze my cheek, but the small touch leaves me wanting more, as though every part of me is reaching for him.

“And is that what you want?” he rasps, speaking slowly. “To be claimed?”

This may be our first date, but we’ve been here before, and the deep hunger, the need, in his eyes far surpasses that of a man who simply wants to claim my body. It belongs to a man who wants to claim me, heart, soul, and all. He leans forward, and his proximity steals the air from my lungs.

“Answer me,” he whispers the demand, so close I feel his breath, but then adds, “Please.”

His words are an intoxicating contradiction of control and surrender, mirroring the dance of our bodies the night we met. They give and take in a way that gives neither, and yet both of us, the power to control what happens next. I fill my lungs with the breath he’s stolen, my lips tilting up as the answer to his question comes to me.

“I’ve already given you this answer,” I purr, holding his chin in my hand, forcing his attention on me, though it’s already here. “I’m yours.”

A flash of surprise and delight flickers across his face before he looks away, the smirk lingering on his lips. He nods, like something’s finally clicked into place, and perhaps it has.

“You’re mine?” he asks, his voice laced with hope wrapped in fear, as though I might take it back or say I’m only kidding.

This is as important to him as it is to me. In a way, though we’re both surrounded by people who care about us, we’ve been alone. The realization settles deep within me, an invisible thread connecting us in a way I can’t explain, like two pieces of a whole finally finding where they belong. Inhaling deeply, my heart beats with a nervous rhythm that feels strangely exhilarating.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” I tease, my voice lowering to a sultry murmur. “Now let’s get out of here?”