Tears gather in her eyes instantly. One slips down and I catch it, wiping it away.
“I’m really proud of you, London. I?—”
She kisses me hard enough to steal the rest of the sentence straight from my mouth.
I pull her against me. One hand settling on her waist while the other tangles gently in her curls.
She tastes like coffee and hope and every damn thing I didn’t know I wanted.
“You realize,” she murmurs against my lips, smiling slightly, “half the town is probably watching us right now.”
“Let them.”
She laughs softly right before I kiss her again.
And maybe we get a little carried away.
Only a little.
Enough that by the time someone loudly clears their throat near the romance section, London’s cheeks are flushed and my hand is dangerously close to her ass.
“Well,” Ethel announces. “This is significantly less scandalous than the murder theory.”
London jumps slightly against my chest.
Bernice looks deeply offended. “You interrupted before we got answers.”
I close my eyes briefly. Of course. The women march closer immediately. You can practically see their detective hats come on.
“Who was that man?”
“Why did he leave town like a bat out of hell?”
“Were there crimes involved?”
“Where were you really all those years?”
“Are you two getting married?”
“Will you live in the cabin or in town?”
“Will there be babies?”
“Bernice!” London squeaks.
“What?” Bernice asks innocently. “We’re invested.”
To my complete shock, laughter bursts out of me.
Real laughter.
The kind I haven’t heard from myself in years.
London stares up at me in surprise before she starts laughing too.
And standing there in the middle of the library/post office/visitor center, with her in my arms and the entire town already deep in our business I realize people are going to be paying even more attention to me now.
I don’t mind it anymore.