Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,22

He led her through the crowd, and with his size, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. She loved the feel of her hand in his, having dreamed about it for months.

Once outside, the cool air slapped her back into reality. He’s just making sure I’m safe. She lifted her hand and pointed. “I’m the small car over there, under the light.” They walked to her car, and he stood next to it as she clicked the key fob. Turning around, she looked up, finding his attention focused directly on her.

“I know you gave me your phone number, Lucy, but I’d like to give you mine. I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safely tonight.”

She didn’t care what the excuse was but having his phone number made her inner Lucy jump up and down with glee. “That would be perfect,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice the quiver of excitement in her voice. After keying in his number, he stepped back and waited while she climbed inside. Tossing him a wave and a smile, she started her car. Through her rearview mirror, she could see him standing in the parking lot under the light until she was out of sight.

Once she pulled into her driveway and looked toward her cottage with the front illuminated by a porch light and motion-sensor light, something her dad insisted on, she smiled. For the whole drive, she was on senses overload. The sound of John’s rough voice. His quiet but steady presence. The hard planes of his chest against her back. The warm ruffle of his breath against her ear when he bent to speak. The point of his chin resting lightly on her head as she leaned against him. The burn of his fingertips on her back. The electricity jolting up her arm from their linked hands.

Finally, blowing out a breath, she alighted and hustled into her house, the key only sticking momentarily. Once inside, she sent him a text.

Home safely.

Good.

She hesitated. His one-word reply reminded her of his succinct letters she’d read to her class. Taking a chance that he wouldn’t mind more, she typed again.

Glad you were there tonight.

Me too.

Okay… is he just being polite? His text came in almost immediately after hers which indicated he was still engaged in the text conversation. Sucking in a quick breath, she decided to continue. What have I got to lose? My dignity? Not after dumping beer all over him… and in front of his grandfather!

So sorry about the beer. You were very gracious.

No worries. It meant we met again and I got to spend more time with you.

Once again, her inner Lucy hopped up and down, her fingers continuing to text as a smile raced across her face.

Next time you go to Moose’s, let me know. I’ll attempt a re-do that’s less messy.

How about you come with me sometime?

Flopping down on her sofa, she ignored the adolescent giggle that slipped out.

I’d love to.

Then it’s a date. And when do you want me to come to the class?

The thought of typing ‘immediately’ hit her mind, but with a shake of her head knew that was ridiculous. Monday would be good but her class would have no time to prepare. Running through the class schedule, she grinned.

How about Wednesday, 2 pm. That will give the class an hour with you, and we’ll have snacks.

Perfect. Can I bring anything?

Only yourself.

A moment passed with no other text and she sighed. I guess that’s all for tonight. Or maybe until I see him again. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter if she was just the teacher and he felt an obligation. Or that he was just a really good guy who made sure she was safe at the bar. Moving into her bedroom, she stripped, then lifted her shirt to her nose, sniffing the faint scent of beer mixed with the woodsy, male scent that was John. Tossing it into the hamper, she shook her head. “God, I’m pathetic,” she said aloud. Yawning with fatigue, a five-minute shower was all she allowed. Slipping into sleep shorts and a camisole, she was brushing her teeth when her phone dinged an incoming message. She bolted into the bedroom, then turned and rushed back to the sink to spit and rinse before grabbing her phone from the nightstand.

Sorry. Got home and wanted to check on Gramps.

She typed and erased several texts, worried they might seem too personal, too inquisitive, too intrusive. Finally, she