Pete held her by the elbows, steadying her. “Just me, just me.” “I thought you’d left,” she cried. She was breathing hard, half afraid to believe because the cold had been so real, so icy that it shook her still. But his hands were warm and his eyes warmer. He smelled of the no-nonsense soap she had bought in bulk on her last trip to the mall. And then there were his arms. They drew her in and held her with a conviction that said, “I told you I’d stay, so here I am.” But it was the way his face moved against her hair, her temple, her cheek that finally convinced her. He had shaved. The stubble that branded him a traveler was gone, leaving the smoothness of having arrived. She sank against him, whispering, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” over and over. “Nope,” he hummed, “just me.” She raised her eyes to his, about to tell him what a horrendous time she’d had, when her thoughts started breaking apart. Panic, chill, fear— all dissolving. Desperation gone, surrendering with a sigh.
What do You think about Flirting With Pete: A Novel?
