Page 64 of The One You Want

“Figured sitting on the same side was more like a date,” he said, and I relaxed marginally. He wasn’t talking about kissing—just sitting closer. I turned my head to say something, I wasn’t even sure what, but at that same moment Grant was leaning down, his lips an inch away from myforehead.

There was an awkward second where we both froze, staring at each other, before Grant finally pulled back, his smile even more sheepish. And—oh my God. Was heblushing?

“I was going for the forehead,” he said with an embarrassed little laugh. “Uh,sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I squeaked out. “It’s, uh, fine. Thanks fortrying.”

It wasn’t his fault that I was the most awkward human on theplanet.

The waiter reappeared, finally, with our beers. We placed our food order and then he was gone, leaving us alone under this shroud of embarrassment I had no idea how toshake.

“Hey.” Grant nudged my arm. “You’re looking pretty stiff there,Hillman.”

“Are you saying I don’t look like a girl having the time of my life on adate?”

He laughed, and I immediately felt better. It was hard to be upset with the sound of Grant Potter’s laughter in myears.

I shook out my arms, trying to rid myself of the tension, and he rubbed my shoulder. “There you go. Muchbetter.”

To my surprise, the feel of his hand on my shoulder didn’t make me uncomfortable. It just felt like…Grant. I leaned into him a little and the hand slid around to my back and then to my othershoulder.

Grant had his arm around me, and it didn’t feel weird atall.

“Hey, do you remember me mentioning my idea about making essential oils?” he asked, and I relaxed even more. This, we could do. Talk about his shop and my pieces and the markets. We’d been doing that foryears.

“I think I finally got the process worked out,” he continued. “Do you think you could try some out for me, give me yourfeedback?”

“Of course I can dothat.”

“Great. You know, they’re really trendy right now. If I can jump on that bandwagon, start selling in the store and get them up on my website for mail order, it might really help out in the winter. I can grow what I need for them in the greenhouse, so it could be a way to bring in money during the lowmonths.”

His face was lit up with excitement, the way it always was when he talked about his plans. On anyone else who looked and dressed like him, that boyish expression might seem out of place. His rolled up flannel sleeves, strong jawline, and beard painted a picture of a rough exterior. He gave off a mountain man vibe—until you got him talking. The contrast worked for him. He was never more attractive to me than he was when talking about hisplants.

The rest of our dinner passed much more comfortably than the start. We chatted about the upcoming market and the things we were working on. I told him a little more about my day at Fran’s—prior to the bleach disaster—and described the job shadowing I had planned for the nextweek.

By the time we slipped out of the booth to walk home, I had almost forgotten about the awkwardness of Libby’s comment and Grant’s attempt to kiss myforehead.

Until he brought it up at my door. “You, uh, wanna try that forehead thingagain?”

I waited for the nerves to kick in, the panic that would remind me how bad I was at this. It didn’t come. Instead I stood there, still but surprisingly not tensed, while Grant leaned down and pressed his lips to myforehead.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal—a forehead kiss was about the most platonic kissimaginable.

But this didn’tfeelplatonic.

Grant didn’t pull away immediately, lingering in my space. I could feel the warmth of his breath dancing over my skin, could sense the nearness of his big body leaning over mine. Up close he smelled like pine and citrus and something else—soil maybe? It wasintoxicating.

And maybe that’s why I lifted my chin slightly, looking up at him, our faces inches apart, my gaze now fixed firmly on his lips. Up close, Grant’s eyes looked nearly black and I wasn’t sure if that was from the darkness that surrounded us or if maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a little bit of what I wasfeeling.

I was feeling like I wanted him to kiss me. Forreal.

“Jenny?” he whispered roughly and somehow my body seemed to take that question as a command because I rose up on my tiptoes to press my lips againsthis.

He was still for a second, just long enough for my heart to go into a free fall of dread. Oh, God. Had I misread everythingagain?

But then his hands were encircling my waist, pulling me closer, pulling me right up against him while his lips slanted over mine. Someone made a low whimpering sound—I was pretty sure it was me—and Grant responded by tightening his fingers against my waist and pressing his lips even harder against mine. It was such a possessive grip that my knees went weak, making me glad he was holding me up because I was pretty sure I would have swooned for real if it wasn’t for his strongarms.

I’m not sure how long we stood there like that—it felt both endless and way too short. When Grant finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily, his dark eyes intent on myface.