My promise brings a smile to her face, but a pinch to her brow, too. She’s sad, and my words only make it worse, somehow.

“I love your family,” she says, “but can we go? I don’t want to be rude or unsociable⁠—”

“Why the hell not? I am all the time. They’re used to it.”

She laughs, hands slipping to my biceps. “They make allowances for you. I still care what they think. I care what you think, too.”

She hesitantly says the last part, and her words hang there, mixing with the warmth collecting in the small space between us. The ends of her long hair dangle, tickling my forearm. Heat rises with my quickening heartbeat—it’s been an age since I’ve been this close to a woman. It’s been even longer since I remember goosebumps over someone’s delicate touch. Or felt twinges of anticipation and hope, staring into someone’s eyes. All those things are happening with her. She is sunlight, peeking slowly through the window, waking me from my self-induced coma, and begging me back to life.

She is too young for me, too beautiful, too goddamned nice. My guilt and her losses render our situation too fucked up for anything beyond friendship. I know this.

And yet, our proximity pushes me into thoughts beyond friendship. I want to say fuck it and dive into her like I did at the lake after losing my fishing rod. Go deep, searching her. Get lost in her. Let her have all of me. My rough hands massaging those sore hips. The aching pressure of my affection sending her against the wall just to feel all of her on me. Lips tangled with mine, hot, and breathy. Clothes off to make an exploration of every single freckle. I’d fucking worship her.

I doubt she’s known real attention or release, full-bodied and mind-shattering—not because of her age but because of the selfish prick she almost married. Maybe he’d “let” her get hers, but never would’ve prioritized it. Not like I would. Not like she deserves.

Not that I deserve a chance with her.

Damn it, Grady. Focus.

Her breath hits my cheek, and I fixate on her eyes. Her widened pupils bring selfish satisfaction. “Who would dare call The Marnie Strange rude or unsociable?”

She laughs. “There’s a first time for everything. Like you calling me Marnie. That might be a first... Not sure I like it as much, coming from you.”

“I’ll stick with Marina, then.”

“Tell me, Grady. Are you trying to stand out, or do you see me differently than everyone else?”

“Both.”

Her lips curve into a pleased smile, and I can’t help but offer one, too.

“Are you a couple now?” Marigold’s voice carries down the quiet hallway, forcing our hands away from each other.

“Damn, Marigold,” I huff. “Don’t sneak up.”