kids get freaked out because of a thunderstorm and run into her room, where she serenades them with ‘My Favorite Things’.”
“It’s been quite a few years since I’ve seen that movie, but don’t worry.” He flashes me a debonair smile. “I have absolutely no intention of breaking into song. Pretty sure that would have you scrambling to leap off this death trap, as you call it, heights be damned.”
I throw my head back, laughing harder than I have in quite a long time, despite being on a decrepit carnival ride where my next breath could very well be my last.
“Okay then. Singing’s out. Duly noted.” I pretend to make a note on an imaginary pad. “How about you tell me what makes you happy? Maybe it’ll work on me.”
“Perhaps.” He pinches his chin, deep in thought. When he opens his mouth, I expect some profound answer. Instead, he serenades me with the first verse of “My Favorite Things”.
I playfully jab him in the side with my elbow, the sound of our laughter carrying over the dings and alarms from nearby carnival games and rides. Then Wes slings an arm around my shoulders. A few days ago…hell, a few hours ago…I probably would have shrugged him off, wanting to keep the lines between us from becoming blurred. But I’m starting to realize we blurred those lines the second he risked his life to save mine all those weeks ago. In that one act, we became bound to each other, an impervious connection growing stronger with each minute we spend together. One we’re powerless to fight.
“This,” Wes murmurs into my ear, his warm breath on my skin causing goosebumps to break out.
I turn toward him, my mouth growing dry from the sincerity in his deep blue eyes. “What do you mean?” I ask, scared of the answer, yet also hoping it’s the one I want.
“This, Lo.” He inches toward me as he pushes several of my curls away from my face. “This right here makes me happy. Spending time with you.”
“This makes me happy, too,” I barely manage to squeak out.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
With agonizingly slow movements, he gradually erases the space between us. But what’s only a matter of inches feels like a mile as his breath dances on my lips, my mouth watering at the promise of his kiss.
For weeks, I’ve imagined how he would kiss. Would it be controlled and dominating, like the man he appeared to be during our first meeting? Or would it be soft and sincere, like the man I learned he could be during the times he listened to me talk about my past? Or would it be desperate and needy, like the way he’s currently peering at me, a man at the end of his rope?
My chest heaves, every synapse in my body firing when his lips faintly brush against the corner of my mouth. Before I can push forward or pull back, the Ferris wheel comes to an abrupt stop, jostling me, my forehead bumping his face.
“Shit.” I lean back, horrified as I watch Wes rub his nose. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Just…bad timing, I guess. Story of my life. Perpetually a dollar short and a day late, as Gampy would say.” He winks, then slides out of the bucket once the carnival worker unlocks the safety bar. “Shall we?” He extends his hand toward me.
“Yes.” I place my hand in his and he helps me down from this wheel of death, our fingers remaining locked as we make our way back to the frenzied atmosphere of the fair.
“Did you have fun, Uncle Wes?” Imogene asks, excitement oozing from her voice.
“It certainly looked like you were having fun.” Julia waggles her brows, which causes my cheeks to warm in embarrassment.
I’d been so immersed in Wes and our conversation, I’d all but forgotten Imogene and Julia were in the bucket right in front of us and could see everything. From the way he held my hand. To the way he slung his arm around my shoulders. To the way he nearly kissed me.
“And for the record…,” Julia continues, grinning deviously, “I wholeheartedly approve.”
Chapter Fourteen
Weston
I can’t stop holding her hand. Can’t stop brushing my thumb along her knuckles. Can’t stop wishing we had a few more seconds on that Ferris wheel so I could get a better idea of how her lips taste. Because I’m certain she wanted me to kiss her. And god, do I want to kiss her.