Page 46 of You Met Me There

“Fate is a funny thing,” he says, more to himself than to me.

I watch him, wondering what he’s thinking right now. We’re in the same place where we met, and yet we’re not the people we were then. We’re not teenagers, and we’re not even sure what our marriage is, what the future holds for us. Obstacles stand between us, and it almost hurts to think of it all right now.

“Come here. I want to do something, ” Luke says, tugging on my arm. He walks across the road, leading me beside him.

“What?” I ask, chuckling. His smile morphs into pure excitement. “What are we doing? Why do you have that face?”

On the other side of the road, he turns me around so I’m facing the street we just crossed. He runs back the way we came, leaving me behind. There aren’t any cars on this backwoods road, just as empty as it always seemed to be before.

“What are you doing?” I shout across the road to him.

“We’re reenacting our first meeting, what does it look like?” He takes a few steps back, holding his hands up and framing me and the bait shop between his fingers. It looks like he’s taking a photo—it’s adorable. His little grin tugs at my heart, and the butterflies inside of me come to life.

“How’s it looking from over there? I looked a lot better as a skinny teenager, huh?”

He shakes his head, adjusting his finger frame. “Not even close. You are all woman now. I’d take this version of you any day, anywhere.”

My cheeks blush. “Shh. Luke, you can’t talk like that! What if someone hears you?” I look around, embarrassed, but I can’t help chuckling under my breath.

He opens his arms wide. “Then let them hear me.” His voice gets louder. “I want everyone to know that I think my wife is the hottest woman on Earth.”

I swoon. I continue dripping sweat from my hairline, I’m tired and sore, but I don’t really notice any of that right now. Luke knows how to make me feel special.

He flips his hair like he did when I first laid eyes on him, then saunters across the empty street. There’s a pothole in the road that wasn’t there before, which he gingerly steps around. Even with sweat marks under his arms and bright red cheeks, Luke is attractive. I wish I had my camera with me so I could capture this.

When he stands in front of me, I lose my breath. He looks down into my eyes, his big hands sliding around my waist.

I shake my head, grinning up at him. “I don’t think this is how it happened the last time. I don’t remember you touching me so soon.”

“No, it’s not.” He shrugs. “But this is what I thought of doing as soon as I saw you.”

Before I say anything, he captures my mouth with his, tasting the words right off my lips. He pulls me closer until our hips touch, and I sink my weight into him. He tastes like salt and smells like the outdoors, but I don’t care. Underneath it all is the lingering scent of his body wash from last night and the coffee he had from Le Fou this morning.

I run my hands up his neck and over the droplets of moisture in his hair. His hand slides up my wet back, pulling me closer.

Seconds or minutes pass, but I don’t even notice. We’re all alone on the side of the street surrounded by a forest and a run-down bait shop. An ice freezer whirs behind me, and I faintly come back to reality as a car drives past us.

When we separate, I’m breathless and Luke is smiling. I squint up at him, the blinding sun framing his head like he’s an angel that’s come to save me from the darkness. His hair fans around his head like a sweaty golden halo.

“That’s how you wanted it to happen the day we met?” I ask, breathless.

He tips his head to the side. “Something like that. It’s all I could think about when I saw you that first time across the street.”

“Aaand”—I put my hands on his chest—“you think I would have gone for that?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be trouble.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I kind of like that you just bought my ice cream that first time. I mean, the kissing this round wasn’t bad, don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoyed it actually.” I pat his chest, teasing him with my smile. “But maybe we could do the ice cream thing again?” I run my finger along the neck of his light-blue-turned-navy tank.

His face stills. “I would never deny my wife her ice cream. If I did, I’d expect to be taken straight to jail.”

“No collecting two hundred dollars?”

“Nope. Straight to jail.”

I shove away from him playfully. “Stop.”

He grips my hand, pulling me back to him. “I’ll never stop,” he says.