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“You’re seeing stars?” he asked with a grin.
“I am.”
“I’m kind of seeing little birds with hearts for eyes.”
Marlowe laughed and rolled her eyes.
“I mean, I guess I could do that, but I was thinking…” He hesitated.
“What?” She scraped her short little nails up the back of his neck and into his hair. Cass shivered and closed his eyes.
“Would you do that again?”
“If you kiss me again.”
“I think we can do that,” he said with a smile.
“What, though?” she whispered. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. Exactly.” He shrugged and grinned, worried now, that she would decide he was awkward, weird. “I just know that I’d like to see you again.”
“Yeah?”
“A lot more often than every six months.”
She stared at him silently for a moment. Cass held his breath until her lips perked up again in a little smile.
“Me, too.”
“I don’t know how you feel about…long distance…things. Friendship…dating…”
“I don’t, either, because I’ve never done it.”
“No?” He moved his hands again and rested them on her hips.
“I’d be willing to try it, though.”
“Let’s try it.” His words were almost a whisper. “I’m Cass Coulter, by the way.”
“Marlowe Dailey.”
“I wanna do all the things with you, Marlowe Dailey.”
“Like what?”
“Watch a sunset,” he suggested. “Pick a Christmas tree out and cut it down. Debate the best Jack Reacher actor. Buddy read Alexander Hamilton.”
Was it his imagination, or was Marlowe’s next breath shaky? Was she excited about the things they could do together or wishing he would get out of the bar so she could go home?
“I love that,” she said softly.
“Make love in front of a fireplace.” He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers over her face. “Sit with you in a bubble bath and drink wine while we listen to Zeppelin.”
“Zeppelin?”
Her grin did something to his heart, his gut. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Sinatra. Willie Nelson.” He shrugged. “Whatever you like.”
