Sweet Dandelion

I jolt at the sound of his voice, husky and warm right behind me. Zeppelin’s wet nose pokes my hand before his long pink tongue swipes out and licks my fingers. I give a giggle before looking up at his owner.

“Time.”

“Time?” he repeats with a furrowed brow. “You’re looking at time?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. His apartment is plenty warm, so

it’s not like my bare arms are cold, but he must think I am because in a blink he grabs a blanket from a side chair and drops it gently around my shoulders. “See it out there,” I whisper, touching his window and leaving behind my fingerprint, proof when I’m gone that I was here and something existed in this space between us, “it’s passing us by.”

“In here too,” he whispers, touching my elbow.

Turning from the window, to him, I’m convinced he’s going to kiss me and God do I crave the touch of his lips. But he doesn’t. Instead he twines our fingers together and tugs me over to his couch, putting the TV on to one of the various countdowns.

Bending down, I take my heels off and curl up on the couch with my body against his.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to add distance. His arm rests lazily around my body like this is a daily occurrence—him cooking dinner and the two of us sitting together to watch TV.

“I used to always watch the replay of the countdown in New York City with my mom,” I offer the information. It doesn’t even feel like glass shards are poking at my throat. “The one with Ryan Seacrest?”

“I know which one you’re talking about.” He rubs his thumb in circles against my shoulder. “What else did you do?”

“She’d put out snacks, like cheese and crackers, other finger foods, and she’d let me drink sparkling cider and I thought I was so grown up and sophisticated.” I give a soft laugh at the memories, how many times I probably made a fool of myself thinking I was drinking real alcohol. “I miss her.”

“I bet she was amazing.”

“She was, but how can you be so sure?” I tilt my head back, taking in his strong jaw.

“You’re her daughter, and I think you’re pretty amazing, so she’d have had to be too. I can put that one on if you want.” He reaches for the remote lying on the couch near Zeppelin.

“No, I want to make new memories.”

His blue eyes are flames, devouring my soul with one little look.

His throat bobs, tongue sliding out to moisten his lips. “Well,” he speaks after a moment, “to new memories then.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

“We’re fifty-nine minutes away from midnight and a new year!” The announcer on TV proclaims, a little too snug in his suit. “We’ll be back after this commercial break.”

Grabbing the remote from Lachlan’s lap, I mute the TV.

“What are you doing?” His surprise is evident.

“This is boring. Let’s figure out our own way to make the next hour fun.” I blush as soon as the words leave my mouth, realizing what it sounds like I’m implying. “Don’t you have music? Dance with me, Lachlan.”

“I don’t dance,” he grumbles.

Standing, I grab his hands. “You’re going to dance with me.”

He sighs and lets me force him off the couch. He towers above me and I feel incredibly small. He’s larger than life—my Superman.

“I really suck at dancing.”

I hold my pinky out. “I pinky promise I won’t tell anyone you suck at dancing.”

He shakes his head, laughing, and curls his finger around mine. “You’re something.”

“I’m everything,” I counter playfully.