Page 115 of Seale the Deal

There’s more than one kind of ribbon?

Different colours, fabrics. I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. I’ll fix it.

He smiles, and my heart flutters under his gaze.

Beer? he asks as I hang up my coat and purse.

Sure.

He opens the fridge and grabs two bottles. Holding them over the counter, he uses his thumbs to flick the lids off before holding one out to me.

Thanks.

I take a sip, then look out the kitchen window at nothing in particular. My mind is still caught up in everything that happened today.

Is everything okay? Ruger’s voice cuts through my thoughts. There’s a worried crease between his brow, and I’m torn between wanting to ease it for him and enjoying that someone cares enough to be worried about how I’m feeling.

I’m just thinking about everything, I say.

Everything including… He gestures between us with his bottle.

Yes, I say honestly. And no.

His expression softens as he takes a step closer. Do you want to talk about it?

I bite my lower lip as I study him. The concern is now laced with patience. He’s giving me an opening, a chance to unpack every fear swirling in my head. I’m sure if I wanted, he would sit on the couch with me for hours, dissecting my career, my future, my guilt, and how every day I spend in Alaska seems to make the idea of leaving a little harder.

But I’m sick of thinking and talking. I’m tired of weighing every possible future against every other possible future.

For once, I don’t want to think. I want to feel.

Wrenley? The way he says my name sends a shiver through me.

I think I’ve done enough talking lately, I say.

The corners of his mouth twitch before curving upward. His eyes travel from mine down the length of my body, then back to my eyes. The worried crease disappears, replaced with something that makes my pulse jump.

Yeah?

I nod. Yeah.

His smile blooms again, slow and wicked. Me too.

His hand settles against my waist, and instead of immediately pulling me closer, he leaves it there. His thumb brushes absent-mindedly against my side, and the tiny movement makes my entire body aware of him—of his proximity. And like I wanted, my brain starts to let go of my worries and just exist in this moment with him.

I reach for him, my fingers finding the front of his shirt and curling into the fabric. The touch draws his eyes downward briefly before they return to mine, and the look that passes between us is enough to steal the air from my lungs. He takes a step closer, just enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. The anticipation is almost unbearable.

His other hand finds the small of my back and draws me a fraction closer. The space between us disappears, and I feel overwhelmed by the strange mix of comfort and anticipation swirling inside me.

What about dinner? I ask, my voice breathy.

Fuck dinner, he says as his hand comes and cups my cheek.

Aren’t you hungry?

He shakes his head. I have all I need to eat right here.

Heat shoots through me as the words hang between us, reckless and flirtatious and loaded with enough meaning to make my pulse race.