Page 83 of Redemption River

Brodie said, “It’s a great view.”

She glanced at his profile, his jaw seemed tense, his forehead was sweating. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said quickly.

Was henervous?

“I meant to buy you flowers,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Maeve rolled her lips together to hold in a smile. It was funny to see him nervous when he was usually so confident. “I don’t need flowers, Brodie.” She gestured around her yard where all sorts bloomed, mostly of their own accord, occasionally kept in check when she had the time.

“Oh, right, yeah,” he said, taking it in.

“Brodie, are you nervous?” she asked, voice laced with amusement.

“I think I am!” he agreed, pulling at the neck of his T-shirt. “I don’t know why. I’veneverfelt like this before.”

Maeve bit her lip, she traced the silver rim of the soda can. “Felt like what?” she asked, her stomach starting to flutter.

He shook his head and looked at her suddenly serious. “Like I really don’t wanna mess this up.”

She swallowed. “Mess what up, Brodie?”

“This,” he said, and taking her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her. Gentle at first, almost wary, then as soon as their lips met all trace of hesitation went. He cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer, his touch gentle but the kiss urgent, like there was both all the time in the world and barely any left at all.

Maeve’s heart thrummed with excitement, relief, exquisite happiness. She wound her arms around his neck, crushing herself to him like she’d been waiting years—forever—for this. She never wanted to let go, tangled her fingers in his hair, slipped her palm beneath the neck of his T-shirt. Brodie smelt like summer vacation and the outdoors and he tasted like he did eight years ago, with a kiss etched in her mind like no other. It was the same and it was better. Like she had finally come home. With his lips pressed hard against hers and his arms tightening around her waist it felt like she was where she belonged. Somewhere she would stay forever if she could.

When he finally released his hold, Maeve found herself bereft and breathless, her heart racing, she said, “You didn’t mess it up.”

She saw the smile start to spread on Brodie’s face. “No.”

She felt her own smile mirror his, bit down on the giddiness soaring through her. He reached and took her hand, pressed their palms together and let her fingers slot through his.

She bit her bottom lip, watching him, taking in his face, less tired than at the hospital, hair pushed to the side, T-shirt loose at the neck where he’d pulled it out of shape, golden-tanned skin. Eyes fixed on her. “So, you’re back,” she said.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She swallowed. “You staying?”

“I hope so.”

She nodded, intoxicated by the familiar warm scent of him, the twinkle in his eye, the slow blink of his lashes. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his, soft, wanting. Felt a shiver of longing shoot down her spine. She let go of his hand and placed both of hers gently on his face, felt the sharp contours of his cheekbones, the softness of where hishair curled above the ear, the smooth skin of his temples beneath the pads of her fingers.

She breathed him in, the moment, the taste, the touch, the thrill as he threaded his fingers into her hair. And then as softly as she had kissed him, she pulled away, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight to her, pressed against the warm plains of his body, familiar like she’d always meant to be there, almost to tell herself he was real. And his arms went around her, palms flat on her waist, his head bent, his lips pressed against her neck. “I’m staying,” he said.

She drew back, felt the smile in her eyes. This wasBrodie Carter! “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning now.