The field was soft, thank God, and there was neither sticker nor cow pie to spoil the walk. When they arrived at the edge of the trees, Gabe swept her up off the ground, into his arms. He carried her over the part of the ground that was littered with sticks and pebbles, and set her down again on the sandy, damp riverbank. The water rushed loudly down the stream, the fine sand freezing cold beneath her skin. She stood there, barely able to see the water, glittering in the moonlight that filtered through the trees.

Gabe pulled his boots off, along with his socks, rolling his pant legs up and extending his hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I thought you might want to finish dancing with me.”

“In the river?”

“I’m not that great at romance,” he said. “But I’m trying.”

Considering she thought her heart might go ahead and beat right through her chest, she thought he did a damn fine job at romance, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. But she did take his hand, and let him lead her into the ankle-deep water. She shrieked, not even caring that freaking out over the cold was not a very tough-girl move.

“It’s cold,” she said as he took both hands in his.

“I can warm you up,” he responded, pulling her up against his body and kissing her, before dipping her backward and bringing her back up against him. They swayed in the water, the rocks slippery beneath her feet, but also softened by the moss that covered them. Then he spun her, the water swirling up around them as he did. And she laughed.

Because she didn’t think the evening could get more absurd or wonderful. She’d gotten a makeover. And now she was dancing in the river. With the man that she...

Her heart gave another bump.

She was pretty sure she loved him.

And part of her wanted to say it. Desperately. To tell him exactly how she felt, so that he would know. Because she’d been hiding for so long, pushing everything down deep and pretending she didn’t feel things she damn well did for an awfully long time.

They stopped moving, and she looked up into his eyes, the word echoing through her body with every beat of her heart.

Love.

Love.

Love.

But what if you’re wrong?

And she didn’t think she could face that what-if. Because there was every chance she was wrong. Every chance that whatever this moment was, it wasn’t love. Not for her. Not for him.

What did she know? She had been a virgin until a couple of weeks ago. And he had given her a lot of firsts. A lot of changes.

It would be easy to mistake that for love. And she wanted to barrel race. And if she barrel raced, she wouldn’t be here. And if she wasn’t here...then love didn’t much matter. So she stretched up on her toes and kissed him, because she knew that was right. And she knew it was true.