His lips press together as he takes that in. His gaze pulls away from mine and lands over the water somewhere again.
We sit in silence for a long time, the birds calling to each other and an occasional fish jumping out of the water. I get so lost in the peacefulness of it that I don’t notice Lincoln nudge closer to me.
“You chilly?” he asks.
Looking at my arms across my chest, I realize I’m shivering. “I guess so,” I laugh.
With a cautious movement, he wraps an arm around my shoulders. At the contact, my breath catches in my throat. He’s so warm, so hard, that I’ve never felt so wrapped up and safe in my entire life.
“Have you always wanted those things?” he asks finally, the gravel in his tone singing through me. “Or did they change?”
“I think I’ve always wanted them. I’ve wanted to do different things with my life, not always the job I have, but I think that’s a normal part of life. Wanting new things, evolving.”
He nods. “Maybe so.”
The sun starts to drop behind the trees and a chilly blast of air drifts across the water. “I better get going,” I tell him. “I hate driving in the dark.”
“Do you have to go far?”
“Not really.”
His fingers press lightly into my arm before he unwinds his arm from around me. Taking my hand, he helps me off the picnic table. I expect him to let go as we walk to the car, but he doesn’t. My palm fits so snugly inside his, the coarseness of his skin rough against mine. We don’t speak until we get to the parking lot.
“Thank you for coming out here,” he says, opening the door for me.
“It’s really no big deal.”
“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?”
I shouldn’t. I could get sucked into this vacuum faster than I ever imagined if I don’t watch it.
“I don’t know about dinner,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he gulps. “What about . . . let’s play catch.”
“What?” I laugh.
He grins. “Meet me back here tomorrow. We’ll play catch. You can’t even consider that a date,” he points out as I start to object. “I’ll bring two gloves and a ball and you just have to show up.”
I want to say no. Sort of. But there’s no saying no to the look on his face.
“What time?” I ask.
“Four-thirty?”
“See you then,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat before I agree to anything else. As I drive off, I see him in the rearview mirror looking like the smug Lincoln Landry I know.
Danielle
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M DOING this.” Climbing out of the car, I try to suppress the excitement that’s whirled in my belly all day. I’ve thought about him since I left here last night—the way he touched me, smiled at me, seemed honestly interested in what I had to say. He’s trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
Spying him near the picnic table from last night, I can’t help the smile on my face as I approach. He has a glove on one hand and is tossing a ball in the air with the other. When he senses me coming, he smiles wide.
“I was starting to think you backed out on me,” he laughs.
“You wish,” I tease, tugging at my hoodie. “Did someone tip you off about my skills?”
“I don’t need someone to tell me you’re skilled,” he jokes, leaning in and kissing my cheek. “Now put on this glove and let’s get started before I start thinking about all your sundry talents.”