Batter of Wits (Green Valley Chronicles #22) - Smartypants Romance Page 0,107
different thoughts into one word comprised of two letters.
Please, please don’t screw up whatever this is.
I’ve been miserable.
I’ve missed you.
I love you.
He gestured toward the display. “Can I show you something?”
Like I’d say no. My mind raced with the possibilities of what it could be.
Then he held out his hand and the racing stopped. Everything went still.
The breath caught audibly in my lungs, and I quickly glanced around at the crowd still milling around us. The entire line in front of the covered display was staring at us. The two men in their hats started conferring immediately, and Belle’s face split into a wide smile.
I nodded, sliding my fingers along his palm. As soon as I did, he wove his fingers through mine and led me past the gaping crowds to the space formerly known as the kissing booth.
That one simple gesture had me feeling like the Grinch on Christmas Day, because my heart tripled in size in the span of a single breath. A family waiting in the mystery line shifted so that we could pass through, and Tucker stopped before pushing aside the white covering.
Over his shoulder, he glanced at me, so much feeling in his eyes that it almost knocked me to his knees. He didn’t even need one word with two letters.
I really hope I don’t screw up whatever this is.
I’ve been miserable.
I’ve missed you.
I love you.
Maybe the last one was my imagination stampeding off wildly, but I felt it, just from the way he looked at me.
Tucker smiled, a gentle, crooked lift of his lips, and my whole body inhaled with anticipation of what he’d done. The hand not holding mine pulled back the curtain, and he stood to the side to let me in.
I had no choice but to drop his hand, because my own flew up to cover my mouth.
My pictures.
Big and beautiful prints of my pictures framed on a stark white background, exactly as I imagined them.
Each one told a story, and with trembling fingers, I reached out to touch the sign on an easel in front of me.
Green Valley: Portraits of Southern Life
a photographic collection by Grace Buchanan
And beneath it, something that made me laugh under my breath.
Special fair preorder pricing: $19.99 per copy
Book release TBD (assuming Grace doesn’t murder Tucker for doing this)
“Tucker,” I whispered. My tear-filled eyes could hardly take it all in. The space had tripled from what we discussed. He must have worked around the clock. Each image was large, done in black and white, as I’d intended them.
Scenes from my time here, in the exchanges of families and friends and neighbors. And then … oh … and then, scenes from him and me that I never expected to see in such stark detail.
The shot of him before our first kiss.
My breath caught again, and I lost the very first tear, felt it fall quickly and silently down my cheek, because in the middle of the entire display, was me and him.
Smiling, wrapped up in each other, on his deck watching the setting sun. A quick snapshot that was never supposed to see the light of day.
But here, like this, it was a declaration.
I covered my face in my hands and cried quietly, because everything felt so big. The way he’d done this so unexpectedly. The proof that he saw me so thoroughly. Knew what would mean the most to me.
Gentle hands cupped my shoulders and turned my body toward his, where he folded me in his embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in greedily.
Three days had been an eternity. The fact that I’d gone so long of my life without knowing him a borderline tragedy.
“H-how did you do this?” I smoothed my hands up his back, trying to touch as much of him as possible.
“Your brother hacked your computer,” he said sheepishly.
With a shocked laugh, I pulled away to look up at him. “What? When?”
His eyes searched my face, and he used the edge of his thumb to wipe at the tears on my cheeks. “Yesterday morning.”
“You did all of this in one day?”
“I’ve got a lot of coffee running through these veins,” he admitted.
I grinned. “I’ll bet.”
Even though his smile matched mine, it fell quickly. “Grace, I did so much wrong, I don’t even know where to start.”
I hugged him again, pressing my forehead to the center of his chest. “I don’t need a list, Tucker. Not as some form of punishment, okay?”