Page 69 of The Way We Touch

“Are you saying he’s not?”

“No, he’s really hot.” I duck my head, and we both laugh.

“A football player.” Her brow arches. “I remember when you said you’d never date one of those.”

“I was always so worried after we lost our dad, and after all he went through and suffered. The guys are all I have left.”

“I know.” Her voice is quiet, and she pulls my hand into her arm as we walk back to the bench. “But loss can happen anywhere at any time. You have to face your fears to learn they can’t defeat you. You’ve survived all the pain life has thrown at you, and here you are, finding new happiness.”

Chewing my lip, I watch as he pulls the small, orange feline from under the patio for a cheering Kimmie. The tiny cat’s claws are visibly digging into his hand, but he doesn’t even flinch as my niece pets its little head, cooing at it and showering it with unwanted affection.

He looks up, and when our eyes meet, it’s an electric charge through my entire body.

“I’m not sure I’d survive if something happened to him.” My voice is quiet.

“You would.” The old woman pats my hand. “But you can’t live thinking that way. You have to know that you would, then let it go and enjoy the time you have together. That’s what makes life worth living.”

He finally releases the small cat, and it dashes under the patio again with my niece right behind it. Standing, he walks over to us, gorgeous in those faded jeans and a maroon tee.

His dark hair is brushed away from his face, and his possessive smile sends heat rising in my body. “What are you ladies talking about?”

He wraps a muscled arm around my waist, and I tilt my head against his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent of citrus and sandalwood.

“I heard Dylan took the job at the high school.” Miss Gina lifts her chin in our direction. “I’m sure the students are so excited. You were such a beautiful dancer.”

“Now you’re just being nice.” I laugh, nudging her side. “You never saw me dance.”

“But I was in the audience. I heard the music and the gasps of the people around me. They were amazed.”

“It was all Craig.”

“Don’t believe her.” Logan leans down, taking a deep breath at the top of my head and sending chills skating down my arms. “Craig was good, but Dylan was breathtaking.”

The old lady’s eyes shine with delight, and she presses her lips into a satisfied smile. “Yes, you are quite lovely. It’s all going to work out.”

Logan gives me a confused smile, but I shake my head. There she goes again.

15

Logan

The restaurant is packed, and it’s our last night in town. I’ve spent every night with Dylan since our date, and as much of every day as possible with her running the restaurant.

I help out where I can—where it doesn’t require knowledge or experience. Thomas showed me how to hold a knife properly so I could help him slice carrots, onions, and celery, which he calls the mirepoix.

At night, we walk down to the bay holding hands. She tells me her plans for the school year, and her worries about never having taught before and whether the kids will respect her or listen to her.

I do my best to reassure her. She was an incredible dancer, and those kids want to know what she knows, they want to be there. It’s an elective class as well, so I doubt they’ll be disrespectful.

She listens to me with so much sincerity, I feel proud I can reassure her. From what I saw in those videos, she was so fucking good. If any of those kids have done their homework, they’ll be in awe of her.

Then we’d end up sitting, fingers intertwined, her dark head on my shoulder. The small breakers created a soft hush on the sand, and I’d lean closer, nuzzling my face behind her neck, memorizing her fresh, slightly herbal scent as I kissed her warm skin.

She started wearing skirts all the time, and when she’d straddle my lap, I’d trace my fingers under them, squeezing her soft ass before shimmying out of my jeans and sinking deep into her hot, sexy body.

I love her sleeping in my bed with me. We don’t sleep much, to be honest. Having her so close in the night inevitably leads to more, but it isn’t only sex. Holding her, talking to her is our ritual.

I don’t know how I’ll go a single night without her in my arms now, tracing her finger along the line of my hair, looking up at me like I’m a fucking hero.