Tears prickle my eyes and my throat burns with raw emotion. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.

“If you’re game, I want to get to know you better, spend some time with you outside of work. Whether it’s in person or long distance, I don’t care. You’re the first person I’ve had feelings for in a long time, and I want to see where this thing goes.” He shrugs. “And for the record? Sean is a douchebag. If I ever meet him, I’m going to punch him in the nuts.”

I laugh weakly. “Not unless I do it first.”

Graeme’s lips twitch, but his eyes fill with uncertainty. “What about you? What do you want?” The vulnerability in his tone makes my chest ache with longing.

What do I want?

I want to work hard and earn respect. I want companionship. I want to pay off my student loans. I want to help Walsh find her footing in life. I want to be the boss someday. I want to be happy.

I want Graeme. I want it all.

Taking half a step closer, I run my tongue along my lower lip. The setting sun warms my neck and Graeme’s chest rises and falls as he studies me intently.

“I want… to try something,” I whisper.

The ground seems to retreat under my feet. Like I’m suddenly standing on the edge of a cliff peering down into a mist-shrouded unknown. My heart swells until it threatens to beat out of my chest.

Closing the distance between us, I tilt my chin up and rise onto my toes. I brush my lips against his. Bliss. Groaning, Graeme pulls me closer, his mouth moving against mine. Energy sizzles between us as effervescent as champagne.

His scent fills my nostrils and his body is firm and warm. His tongue dips into my mouth. He tastes sweet with a hint of tart, like huckleberry pie and a fine, crisp cider—like home. My nerve endings crackle like sparklers.

I know we should stop. There’s too much at risk. But I don’t want to. Thrill pumps through my veins and my breathing shallows.

I’m somersaulting off a high-dive. I’m chasing a shark.

Except for the pounding of the surf against the shore and my heart against my ribs, the empty beach is silent. Even the birds have quieted along with the murmur of guests through the trees behind us.

Graeme pulls back a fraction. Searching my face, he smooths his thumb roughly over my cheekbone. There’s no smug satisfaction in his expression—only open, honest wonder.

“Screw it,” I murmur, yanking him back down to me.