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The heat of his body warmed her against the cool night, and she leaned into it. Leaned into the smell of soap and flannel. The tenderness of his touch. The safety of his broad shoulders.
She dared to look up at him.
He released her hand, cupped her face in his palms, and she waited. Wanting.
Instead of kissing her, he leaned his cheek against hers, grazed her cheek with his lips. Held her against himself and let out a long exhale. As if resisting. Doing the right thing.
Which was smart. Safe.
But she was tired of playing it safe. Instead, she turned her head, let her lips meet his.
Take a risk.
She kissed him, pouring into it every wave of longing and hope.
He accepted her kiss and returned his own with an urgency that melted every last bit of good sense in her brain. His arms wound around her body, holding her against the heat of his own.
The smell of campfire smoke clung to him, and he tasted like chocolate and marshmallows and sultry summer nights.
Then, a creak and sway beneath her. A tug that nearly pulled her from his arms, leaving her a little dizzy.
He tightened his hold and she opened her eyes. Gasped.
A snap and then his body dropped beneath her, taking her with him.
Falling.
Falling straight through the wooden bench.
Beth’s clipped scream turned to laughter. With dust billowing around them, she landed on top of Grayson, his arms wrapped tight.
“We broke the bench!” she said into the fabric of his shirt.
Nuts. Add that to her to-do list. She was going to have to order a bench repair.
“You must be okay.” The timbre of Grayson’s voice vibrated against her. She could lean into that voice and hold on. “That’s too much laughter for pain.”
She sighed. “I’m okay. You?” She lifted herself up enough to look him in the eyes. He’d lost his hat, and his eyes held a bright clarity.
“Never better.” He plucked grass from her shoulder, let out a little breath, and ran a hand through her hair. “Beth?”
Yes.
She didn’t answer out loud. Instead, she lowered her lips to his again, delighting in the feel of him. Leaning into the moment she’d been thinking about since the trail ride. Maybe even since that regretful blunder in high school.
Tender and sweet and ardent. It was starlit nights and laughter and oh, so much of everything. Everything she’d boxed up inside. Every dream, every hope.
He ran his hands through her hair, and when they parted, he traced her lips with his fingers.
She swallowed.
“My back may have been impaled by a broken plank.” He shifted and shoved a chunk of wood out of the way.
“Oh no!” She drew her hand down his chest and realized she was still lying haphazardly on top of him. Oops.
She sat up and scrambled to her feet. “Do you need me to take a look at it?”
He got a silly grin and looked up at her. “My back?”
