Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

“No.” His answer is quick. Sharp. Decided.

“Then why would you think I’m so shallow that I would basically do the same to you. That hurts.”

He pulls me to him, closing the half an inch that separates us, until there’s no air left between our bodies.

“This hurts a little too,” I grumble.

He pops open the door with one hand. I climb off him and into the afternoon breeze. He never lets go of my hand.

The air smells of water and dirt and my hair is going haywire in the wind. He takes both of my hands in his and pulls me close.

“I love you,” I tell him. “In case I haven’t said that.”

“I’ve known that for a long time. I mean, how could you not?”

Snorting, I let him bend me backwards in a long, leisurely kiss. Once I’m upright again, I take a deep breath.

“If Britt comes back, you’re done with her, right?” I tease.

“Who is she?”

Laughing, I snuggle against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, predictable, as we sway back and forth in the middle of the road.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks.

“I’m sure if you ask me that again, I’m going to throat punch you.” His chest shakes under my cheek. “If this works out between us, think of all the kids we could adopt. Kids like Ollie. We could have a house full of them.”

He kisses the top of my head.

“I do have one condition though,” I say, looking up at him.

“Good. Me too.”

“You first.”

“The lock on your door has got to go,” he growls. “I’ve never been so pissed off in my life.”

Laughing, I watch as our fingers lace together. “Fine. Joe won’t be happy he has to take it right back off, but I’ll make it happen.”

“I’ll take it off. It’ll make my day.”

“Fine. Done. Now my turn.” A nervous wiggle spirals through me. “I don’t want to be the kind of woman who tells you what to do. And I’m not sneaky and snoopy because if I have to do that, I don’t want to be with you anyway.”

“Just tell me what it is,” he chuckles.

My cheeks heat. “I want you to delete the app.”

“I already did.”

“Really?” I ask, not sure I believe him. “I didn’t mean to see it on your phone when we were baking with Ollie, but it was sitting there and an update came on and …”

“And that’s when I deleted it. I hadn’t used it since you messaged me there last and the update notification reminded me I still had it.”

Swinging our hands back and forth, I breathe in the clean, country air. I’m not sure if it’s that, or Lance’s cologne, or the way he presses a kiss up the side of my neck, but I tug him back toward the car.

“What are you doing?” he laughs, following me.

“You need to take me home. Your ten minutes are up.”

He spins me around and pins me against the side of his car. “If I wasn’t completely clear, I want you. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

I don’t respond because I can’t. My throat is too tight, my eyes too watery, my mind too buzzed by the look in his eyes.

This man, Lance Gibson, the man I’ve wanted and fantasized about since the first day I met him, the man who promised me he’d never settle down with one woman, loves me.

Me.

How this is even happening, I don’t know. The last few months feel like a blur but the only thing that matters is he’s standing in front of me, imploring me to listen.

I’ll listen. I’ll listen as long as he’ll speak.

“Nana told me to search for happiness in the right places. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you,” he whispers.

As I take in the two of us, I realize how sometimes the most complicated relationships really aren’t all that complicated. At the core, Lance and I love each other. Everything else is just noise.

“There have been a lot of dark times in my life,” he says. “I prayed for a lot of things and didn’t get many of them. Now I see why.”

“Why is that?”

“They were all a path to get me to you, so I’d be the right man for you when I met you. Without the accident and Britt leaving and even my parents’ death in a lot of ways, I wouldn’t be the same person I am today.” A slow grin slides across his lips. “I wouldn’t be nearly as smart.”

“Is that so?”

“Or as handsome,” he adds.

“Right.”

“Or as charming.” He takes my hand and guides me around the car. “I’m about to say something I never thought I’d say.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for this,” I say, looking at him.

“We’re in a word ending in ship, right?”

“A relationship?” I tease. “If you’d like to ensure I don’t call the coach back and take him up on his offer of dinner …”