As he stepped over Hamlet, she stood up. They were a foot apart. Maybe less.
“Tessa . . .” he murmured. He didn’t know what to say next.
Thankfully, she didn’t make him figure it out. She lifted her chin, her eyes as warm and inviting as dark honey warmed by the sun. She whispered, “Don’t make me think too hard about this. If I do, I’ll talk myself out of it.”
And so, he stopped thinking as well and kissed her.
His fingertips went to her jaw, touching it lightly, and her mouth was warm against his. He felt her grasp a fistful of his shirt in her hand and hold on as if she’d been waiting forever to do this.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss. It wasn’t a question. They’d already figured out the answer and had both been waiting for a chance to share it.
She tasted like coffee with cream and sugar and a hint of salt that he understood, with a small ache, was probably the last of her tears.
When they pulled apart, his hand stayed at her jaw and she gripped his shirt a beat longer than they needed to.
“Oh my,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
She let out a small, breathless laugh. “I was not expecting this to be how my morning went.”
“Same.”
She let go of his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles she’d made with both hands, lightly stroking his chest. She didn’t step back. He didn’t either.
“You’re not going to apologize for that, right?” she asked carefully.
“No, ma’am. Are you?”
“Nope.”
“All right then.”
“All right.”
He gazed into her eyes and she gazed right back. He didn’t see the slightest hint of regret, and relief flooded him, not only because she was glad they’d kissed, but also because he wasn’t as broken and unlovable as he’d thought. A tiny bubble of elation started to build at the base of his ribcage, expanding tentatively as he realized having a life partner and a family might just be attainable after all.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It buzzed again to announce another message, and a third time.
On the fourth buzz, Tessa said, “I think you need to check your messages.”
“I’m not ruining a relationship again by prioritizing my work to the exclusion of the person I—” he broke off, stopping himself from uttering the L word. It was too soon for that. “The person I care about,” he finished lamely.
A startled look entered her eyes. She obviously knew what he’d stopped himself from blurting out. But then she smiled gently. “I admire the work you do and your dedication to it. I want you to help animals who are suffering and in pain, Dillon. Please answer your phone. For me.”
Shocked, he said bluntly, “Are you just saying that to be nice?”
“No. I’m not. I’m saying it because I remember how panicked I was the first time I called you and asked for help. I desperately needed you to come save me and to save Fern’s animals from me.”
“You would’ve figured it out eventually on your own, and the critters would’ve been none the worse for it.”
“Still, when a pet owner or rancher calls you, they need you. Of course, you have to drop whatever else you’re doing and go to them. It doesn’t bother me now, and I can’t imagine it bothering me a year from now or ten years from now.” She added tartly, “Which is a nice way of me saying I’m not your former wife and I have no intention of becoming her.”
“Thank God for that.”
His phone buzzed yet again.
He sighed and pulled it out, scanning his voicemails. Bonnie Watson needed him to swing by. The puppy was scratching at its ear again. Pete Maddox reported that Hope was gaining weight and mama was fine. Reno texted, Somewhere outside Idaho Falls, the desk clerk has a rooster in the lobby, send help. Then Reno again. Am told it’s just a chicken. Is that better?