Page 97 of In a Word, Yes

A playful spark lights his eyes. He fingers a tendril of hair that’s found its way out from under my cap. Tips my chin.

His eyes search mine. “May I kiss you?” The kindness of the gesture disarms me.

Kissing would change everything.

I smile my answer.

Our lips meet.

Wyatt Hayes’s kiss is unlike any other kiss. This. Oh, this. This definitely qualifies as something altogether new. Like my first tiramisu or my first Mary Oliver poem.

Which means I’m in trouble. Because I’ll never again not know what it’s like to be kissed by Wyatt Hayes.

Can I even regulate this high-voltage current zinging through every part of me? Apparently not, because as much as I want to fully participate in this once-in-a-lifetime romantic moment that every cell in my body clearly longs for, my mouth decides to bypass the asking-my-permission step in the communication process and starts discharging witless prattle.

“You sure know how to pick a spot for a first kiss,” I whisper. “I mean, just look a—”

His eyes remain laser-focused on my lips. “Shh. You’re doing it again. That’s two things.”

“Right,” I whisper. “One thing at a time.”

Let go. You’re in safe hands.

I run a fingertip down that darn chin dimple, then close my eyes and softly press my lips to his. Wyatt deepens the kiss. Gentle but sure. As if this moment was always, always inevitable.

My eyes flicker open.

He grins. Draws me into strong arms. Snugs the blanket closer around us.

Maybe tomorrow pragmatic Lucy will reinhabit my body. But for now, I willingly enter the freefall—ten thousand stories. Now eleven ... now twelve.

But who’s counting?

Thirty-Seven

seachange(n.): a big and sudden change or transformation

“Whoa, what is that monster?”

From behind the stony rim surrounding the lake, a great dark cloud appears, moving steadily, ominously toward us. Within moments we’re in shadow.

“It’s not too early for snow,” Wyatt says. “Maybe we should get you back.”

“Nah. I’m rooting for snow.”

Wyatt turns to unzip his pack. “I hate to be a bummer, but I probably should have checked messages by now.”

“I probably should too.” Chase will still be at the horse ranch. Nevertheless, peace of mind. I dig out my phone.

“Oh, crud,” Wyatt says. “No signal.”

“I don’t have one either. I had three bars back at the car.” Reality check. I’m now dating a man with weighty responsibilities. “It’s okay. I understand if you need to go...”

Wyatt leans his forehead on mine. “Ugh. Sorry to be like that. But I’ve got to wonder how long we’ve been totally off grid.”

“It’s all good. This has been...” What’s the word for the thing that’s better than words?

The corners of his mouth lift sweetly. He takes my hands in his. Presses them gently to his lips and murmurs against my temple, “I can’t wait to spend more time with you.”