Page 115 of At First Catch

The kiss turns dangerous.

Weeks of wanting finally colliding with emotional vulnerability and trust and affection so overwhelming it borders on unbearable.

My hands slide instinctively down her hips before settling firmly at her waist again, grounding myself before I lose what little composure remains.

The truth is, if I keep kissing her much longer, I’m not going to want to stop at kissing anymore.

And judging by the way Hadley’s breathing against my mouth now, she’s realizing the same thing.

Chapter Fifteen

HADLEY

Three days after the storm trapped us inside the marina office, Nolan Pierce has started showing up in pieces of my life even when he isn’t actually here.

I notice the evidence everywhere.

Coffee waits for him in my kitchen before I consciously decide to make it. Marina blueprints are spread across my cottage table beside the library books I keep meaning to finish. And the sweatshirt he left here after stopping by last night is still draped over the back of my couch even though the rain dried hours ago and I’ve had more than enough opportunities to return it.

I tell myself I keep forgetting.

The lie would be more convincing if I did not occasionally pause beside the couch just to breathe him in.

“You’re smiling at the sweatshirt again.”

I nearly launch out of my skin.

Bailey sits cross-legged at the far end of the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap, watching me with the unsettling patience of someone gathering evidence.

“How long have you been staring at me?”

“Long enough to know you’re gone.”

“I’m standing in my own living room.”

“Physically, yes.” She tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Emotionally, you’re cuddling a piece of abandoned clothing.”

“That is both dramatic and untrue.”

Her gaze slides toward the sweatshirt.

I glance at it too, which does not help my argument.

Outside the cottage windows, the late afternoon sunlight stretches across Otter Creek Farm in soft gold ribbons. Spring wind moves through the trees, carrying the scent of honeysuckle through the cracked kitchen window. Somewhere near the barn, Holt and Rowan are arguing about a section of fence, while Rook sleeps across the porch as though manual labor is a rumor that does not concern him.

Everything feels peaceful. Familiar. Safe.

Nolan has become tangled in all of it.

The thought still startles me when I let myself look at it too closely. Three days should not be enough time for someone to become part of my routine. It should not feel natural to plan dinner around whether he will be at the marina late or to leave space beside me on the couch without thinking.

Bailey studies my face for another second. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with him?”

I choke on air.

“Excuse me?”

She only stares.