Page 110 of The Worst Possible Plan

I stared at him. “If you say so.” I shook my head slowly. “Maybe not the lumber part. Although, judging by those fence posts, I’m guessing you’re annoyingly good with power tools too.”

Our eyes met. For a long moment neither of us spoke. The silence no longer felt awkward. It was comfortable, like we’d somehow found our way back to each other after taking an unnecessarily scenic detour through felony charges.

Finally, he asked, “So…” A small smile touched his mouth. “Do you like it?”

I looked around once more. “I do. I really do.”

He let out a slow breath, almost like he’d been waiting for that answer. “Good.”

I looked back at him. “Good?”

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“You built an entire home for four animals.”

“I built a fence.”

“You built a fence, a shelter, bought hay, water troughs, feed...” I pointed toward Bandit, who’d somehow found a stick twice his size. “And whatever he’s currently doing.”

Eric watched Bandit for a second. “I don’t think even he knows.”

I laughed. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know.”

My heart gave a little tug. “You could’ve called a rescue.”

Eric nodded. “I could’ve.”

“You could’ve dropped them off and walked away.”

“Yes. I could’ve.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You keep agreeing with me, but somehow you’re still standing here with four extra mouths to feed.”

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Didn’t seem right.”

“No,” I admitted. “I guess not.”

He glanced down for a second before meeting my eyes again. “If I was going to fix what I messed up, I figured I should fix the part that mattered most to you.”

I looked around once more. “Well. You did a great job. I love it.”

The word felt far too small for what was swelling inside my chest. Love wasn’t big enough. There should’ve been another word. One specifically reserved for impossible men who rescued animals and accidentally rescued stubborn women at the same time.

The words barely left my mouth before my body made another executive decision without consulting my brain.

I closed the space between us, reached up, and caught his face between both my hands—again. My thumb brushed lightly along his jaw, rough with the start of an afternoon beard. “You’re going to ruin me for every other man on the planet.”

Then I kissed him. Really kissed him.

And not like the impulsive, terrified kiss from the festival.

This one was different. It carried every thank you I couldn’t put into words. Every apology. Every ounce of relief. Every impossible, terrifying, wonderful feeling that had been steadily growing inside me from the moment Captain Competent had walked onto that dance floor and held out his hand.

For one heartbeat he seemed almost surprised. Then his hands found my waist, and he kissed me back.

Slowly at first. Then with a quiet certainty that stole every coherent thought I had left.