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I wrap my arms around Wilford, marveling at the wonder of it.
“It’s gotten cold so fast,” Oliver says.
“We should probably head back.” I stand, and Wilford jumps up and barks again, threatened by the big, scary whisps of smoke. His leash rips away from my hands and I wince. “Ow!”
Oliver is quick to respond, stepping to Wilford and grabbing his leash before he makes a break for it. Wilford is six years old, but he still acts like a petulant puppy.
“Are you alright? Did that hurt your hand?” His brows jam together, and he gently lifts it to his face. “I don’t see any signs of rope burn, but…”
“I think I might live,” I offer weakly, not able to stop my teasing smile.
He chuckles. “With a couple months of treatment, you might pull through?”
“Maybe. If you’re lucky.”
“If I’m lucky?” His gaze darkens. “I would be lucky if I’m by your side.”
He slings his arm around me as we walk to the terrace, through the resort, and out the front.
By his side? The phrase reminds me that our time together is short.
We reach my car.
“Sophie, I just…” He stops himself and instead brings my hand up to his lips. The brush of a kiss on them leaves them white hot and I wish he would do the same to my mouth. Again.
He feels it, too, I think, because he does that low grumbly growly thing in his throat a second time. “I just want to say that I’m glad I’m back here in Longdale with you.”
I’ve watched enough RomComs to know how this works—that saying goodbye for the night is such sweet torture. Except in a RomCom, there would be a light rain, and there wouldn’t be a dog whimpering nearby.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” I say as I open the back door of my Corolla, get Wilford inside, and close the door. He whines and paws at the window.
“Aw, he wants me to ride with you guys.” Oliver places his hands on the glass over Wilford’s paws and I want to die over the cuteness of it.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say.
“Thanks for coming.” His expression grows serious.
I get in my car and before I can close the door, Oliver leans down and gives me another kiss, this one soft and slow.
I feel the dog squeeze his head through to the front.
“Wilford!” Oliver yanks his mouth away and slaps a hand over his cheek. “His tongue is huge.” He wipes his face.
I start to laugh and shove Wilford back onto the rear seat. “I’m sorry,” I say to Oliver.
“It’s okay.” He reaches past me and gives Wilford a good scrub under his chin. “He’s just feeling lonely, aren’t ya?” Oliver’s sweetness to Wilford is threatening to make me melt even more, so I insert my key in the ignition. I’ve got to get out of here fast.
As I leave the parking lot, I check him out in the rearview mirror, and he’s staring after me. My heart hurts with longing. I glance over at my glove compartment. Only I know what it contains, and now, the little secret object is like a talisman that has finally brought Oliver to me.
I drive home and stumble after Wilford up the front steps and into the house, drunk on kissing. Drunk onlove.
Chapter 18
Oliver
The next evening, Sophie comes to my office after working at the county library during the day.
“Hi,” I say, leaning against the door frame, my hands in my pockets. For some reason, I feel a little shy.
