legs crossed beneath them while facing each other, a foot-space of distance lying between them. That is, until she moved in again. Her knees brushed against his, sending sprouts of desire to take root. At least their folded legs kept them from getting any closer than this.
“Hi,” she said with a grin.
He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath as he replied. “Hi.”
She leaned forward then, releasing a breathy sigh as she set her hand over his where they rested in his lap.
Whoa. The warmth of her was everywhere. It felt nice having her so close.
“Thanks again for saving me today,” she said softly.
Easton gave her a nod. “You’re welcome.”
“I feel really…” She paused, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “…warm toward you right now.”
Okay, now she really sounded drunk. And after what—a few measly peach slices? Lightweight.
Still, heat stirred low in his belly. Her closeness, her comment, the way she was looking at him—all of it had him thinking of that tempting mouth of hers. Of how, when the peach juice dripped down her lip and he’d gotten a taste of it, he’d wanted to rush in for a taste of her lips too. Even now, the urge was as constant and prodding as the beat of his heart.
He gulped, forcing his mind someplace else as the belly heat stirred once more. “We should get a sleeping bag set up for you,” he said.
But Ivy moved her hand to his bicep, urging him to stay put. He ran his gaze over her face, enjoying the way the firelight complimented her skin. “I’m having some thoughts inside,” she admitted.
Oh, no. Where was his canteen when he needed it? She was dehydrated for sure—that would explain the strong reaction.
“Why don’t you tell me about your thoughts when you wake up?”
“Of what it would be like to kiss you,” she finished.
Easton’s pulse spiked. “I think that’s the moonshine talking,” he forced himself to say. “You don’t drink often, do you?”
“No,” she admitted.
Neither did Easton, but he wasn’t affected the way she was. Of course, Ivy was considerably smaller than him.
“Listen, Ivy. I might be having similar…thoughts, but—”
A huge smile took over her face, distracting him from what he’d planned to say. Dang, she was cute. And she was nudging impossibly closer even still, as if what he’d said was an invitation.
“But,” he added, resting a hand over her grip on his bicep.
“You’re muscles are really strong,” she said.
He grinned and gave her small hand a squeeze before guiding it back toward her own lap. “But…” he started again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The words hovered in the air for a bit, like unwelcome insects at a picnic.
“Why not?” She blinked wide eyes at him, looking very childlike suddenly. It helped—in a sense—keep him from taking advantage of the moment. She wasn’t exactly herself right now. But Easton was and he needed to tell her the truth.
“Because I…I have a hard time believing in love.” He sighed, deflating as the truth of his reply took him back to reality in a blink. “I see it go bad so often that…that I’ve decided it’s not worth the risk.”
She blanched. “You don’t believe in love?”
He thought about his sister and Tim. About how the two of them seemed to have found something truly special. With them, he at least had hope that they wouldn’t end up like most couples did—miserable in the wake of so much hurt and destruction, their kids often taking the brunt.
“For some people, I think it works,” he admitted. “For the lucky ones. But something tells me that I’ll never be that lucky.”
A crease formed between her eyes. “I say things like that too. I say that I don’t want to date right now because I’m busy with work and I want to get my promotion and blah, blah, blah, but really I’m just scared of getting my heart broken again.”
Another admission, courtesy of the moonshine. Yet somehow it struck a chord. A chord that said, when it came down to it, Easton was scared of that very thing. Terrified, actually.
His heart picked up its pace then, escalating to a sudden restless racing that had him itching to take flight.
“I think we should get some sleep now,” he said, shooting to a stand and heading toward the sleeping bags.
Wait, wrong direction. He spun in place, bolted toward the cabinet, and secured one bag and two pillows.
“We’re going to share?” Ivy asked, coming to a stand as he neared.
Her