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“For what?” Martinez asks.

I scratch behind Atlas’s ears. “Good timing.”

A quiet laugh comes from across the counter. I smile and don’t explain further. Neither of us returns to the moment. But we both know it was there.

It’s after nine when I finally stand. “It’s late. I should go.”

Martinez gets up too. “Yeah.” Neither of us sounds particularly enthusiastic.

He walks me to the door. Outside, the night is cool and clear. The farm is almost completely quiet from this side of the property. The porch light reaches across the gravel, but beyond it the fields disappear into darkness.

Atlas stays on the porch.

My car is only a few steps away. It somehow takes us longer than it should to reach it.

I unlock the door. Martinez waits while I open it. Then I turn toward him.

“Dinner was wonderful.”

“Glad you liked it.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Silence settles between us. Not awkward. Just full of everything neither of us has said tonight.

I should get in the car.

I don’t.

Martinez puts his hands in his pockets. And that nearly makes me smile, because I have seen this man direct volunteers, handle frightened animals, solve problems, and run half this farm without appearing uncertain about anything. Right now, Javier Martinez looks nervous.

Which makes two of us.

“I’m glad you came,” he says.

The quiet sincerity takes away every teasing answer I might have given him. “I’m glad I came too.”

His eyes hold mine. Then he takes a step closer.

My breath catches.

Another step. Still, he doesn’t touch me. He waits. We’ve been here before. The storage room. His mouth almost touching mine. Both of us wanting something neither of us was quite ready to name.

This feels different. No accident put us this close. Nothing is trapping us here. We chose it.

His hand lifts slowly. His fingertips touch my cheek. The tenderness of it surprises me. His thumb moves once along my cheekbone.

My heart beats harder.

His other hand settles at my waist, lightly, carefully, and he waits again. His eyes search mine. There is a question there. One I know how to answer.

I place my hands against his shirt. Warmth meets my palms. My fingers curl gently into the fabric at his waist.

His gaze drops to my mouth. Mine falls to his.

Then he lowers his head, and I rise toward him, and we meet in the middle.