Chapter 34 #2
“Hey,” I whispered softly, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze in the dimness of a nearby streetlight. “I’m okay. It’s okay. It’s the fireworks.”
Greyson shook himself, coming out of the tense daze. “Sorry . . . I . . .”
I looped my arms around his neck and played with the hair at his nape.
“No harm done.” This behaviour was bold for me, but I’d wanted to do this for ages.
Like so many things in my life these days.
It was a sense of déjà vu—reliving a life I couldn’t remember .
. . getting another chance at love. Falling slowly.
Greyson’s hands squeezed my waist, and he shivered. Whether that was from the still-booming pyrotechnics or my playing with his hair, I couldn’t tell. But the feminine part of me definitely wanted to take all the credit.
“Want to blow this popsicle stand?”
He blinked at me. “What?”
Without a plan or a worry, I grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the truck, away from the noise and the crowds. “C’mon. Let’s go stargazing.”
A smile curved over his lips, and a promise sparked in his eyes.
Bonneville Point was a forty-five-minute drive into the hills south of Boise, but it was one of the best stargazing lookouts in Central Idaho’s Dark Sky Reserve.
Sneaking away had my insides giddy with champagne bubbles. But I didn’t want my friends to worry, so I pulled out my phone as Greyson jogged around the truck to his side after closing my door.
ME:
We’re ducking out early. Can someone keep tabs on Rosie?
STEPHANIE:
Cal’s got her and Khia. I heard her begging for a sleepover.
LIZ:
Khia, not Rosie, lol. *laughing emoji*
JULIET:
We’ve got her. Are you okay? Did something happen?
ME:
Everything’s peachy. Just heading stargazing.
LIZ:
Is that what the kids call it these days? *smirk emoji* *dancing woman emoji*
JULIET:
Liz. My brother. Don’t make it weird.
ME:
See you for brunch in the morning!
I clicked my phone off, cheeks warm thanks to Liz’s teasing.
Liz and Ben were staying with Myles and Juliet, and Nash and Stephanie had rooms at Mama D’s, so no one would be waiting on us to get home tonight.
Greyson smiled at me in the dim light, and the truck’s throaty rumble filled the night. He slid his hand across the seat, palm up, and I took it, lacing our fingers.
We stayed like that the whole drive, and I loved the roughness of his calluses and the way his thumb played with my knuckles. We talked about everything and nothing while George Strait and Alan Jackson serenaded us on the radio.
After Greyson put the truck in park at the outlook, he reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket. “Just in case,” he said with a wink. Hopping out, he jogged around to my side and opened my door.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“Anytime, love.”
I laughed and sucked in lungfuls of the fresh night air. Pine and earth filled my nose. It was nothing like Seattle or Oregon, but maybe it was for the best. I still had salt in my veins, but it was fading. The dust in my lungs made me feel alive. This was where I belonged.
Greyson spread the blanket out in the back of the truck bed, but I grabbed his hand before he helped me onto the tailgate.
“Can we dance first?” I asked, wistfully glancing around the small grassy outlook point nestled between the shadowy rust-coloured rocks.
“Sure.” Greyson went back to the truck and turned the key so Tim McGraw crooned lightly, filling the night space.
My pulse fluttered as he approached me, his step determined, his gaze raking over me.
“May I have this dance?” Greyson asked, voice gravelly.
“Of course.” I let him pull me close, running my hands over his biceps and shoulders to rest at his neck while his snaked around my lower back.
I leaned into him, resting my cheek on his soft T-shirt.
He smelled sweet like syrup and baked goods, no doubt from the pancake breakfast, but his deodorant of citrus and sandalwood wrapped me into a hazy cocoon of safety. My mind was deliciously quiet for once.
“Did you have fun today?” Greyson asked when the music shifted to Alison Krauss and Union Station’s “When You Say Nothing at All.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, tilting my head back to look at him. “You?”
Silvery moonlight from a quarter moon (I never could keep them straight) bathed his features in light and shadow, making him even more handsome. How was that possible? “Any time spent with you is my favourite,” Greyson said, bending to rest his forehead against mine.
We stayed like that for a long time. Swaying. Holding each other. Soaking in the moment.
“About those stars,” I whispered at last, my feet starting to ache. Maybe we’d even see the Milky Way.
Greyson chuckled and scooped me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest.
“Grey!” I squealed, clinging to him like a barnacle.
“I’m not going to drop you,” he groused. “Have some faith.”
“Oh, I do,” I teased. “Your muscles are very impressive.” I patted his shoulders and triceps appreciatively.
Greyson lifted me over the side of the truck and set me on the blanket in the truck bed. “What am I going to do with you, woman?”
“Kiss me.”
He blinked at me, and I blinked right back. I hadn’t expected the words to just fall right out there, but I’d had kissing on the brain all day, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Greyson was silent as he hefted himself into the truck bed, settling into a seated position beside me. “You sure you want that?” he asked quietly. He respected me enough that night to see my indecision and wait until I was certain. Now I had no qualms.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Show me what you got, Marine.”
That was all the invitation Greyson needed. In a flash, his lips were on mine, soft and insistent.
My heart swelled as I clung to him, pressing closer and leaning into him. Running my hands over his shoulders. Tugging the hair at his nape.
Greyson groaned, shifting to pull me even closer, his hands hot through the fabric of my sundress. The man knew how to kiss. Each caress was reverent. A heady blend of demanding, tender, and a promise.
I was safe. Cherished. Valued.
Kissing him was like coming home to safe harbour. A safe place to land. It was a story, a dance, a delicious line of poetry. It was ours.
He kissed up my jaw to behind my ear, and I melted with a sigh. His proud chuckle rumbled through me, under my hands. Once he returned to my neck, I was feeling light enough to float away.
“Grey,” I whispered, touching his chest.
“Yes, love?” His dear face hung over me, taking me in with sweet vulnerability. I had never felt so cherished. And when had I lain down? My bones had one job—remain firm—and apparently they were no match for my husband’s kissing skills. No complaints here.
“Would you hold me? For just a little while?”
The heat in his eyes tempered into a slow, steady ember. He shifted, tucking me against his side, holding me so close his steady pulse beat under my ear. “Forever, my love.”
And we watched the stars come out to dance.