Page 116 of Small Town, Big Storm

It’s only after I’ve put my mug and plate in the sink that I realize HollyandStorm have been gone far longer than it should take to locate a toothbrush.

I hurry from the kitchen and across the living room, dip into the hall…

And skid to a halt.

Because there are voices in the bathroom—okay, right, the voices (Storm and Holly) are expected, it’s just…

What they’re saying that doesn’t compute.

“No, I want it fishy style.”

A pause and I can picture Storm’s expression: befuddlement.Then, I hear him say, “Ah, a fishtail braid?”

And the pieces click into place.

And…hell, but my heart can’t handle it, or the potential of it, or?—

Thesightof it.

I sidle forward, peek around the corner?—

Yup.

My heart can’t handle the sight of Holly standing and facing the mirror, Storm behind her as he carefully brushes and sections her hair.

Then proceeds to create two perfect pigtails he then braids in “fishy” style.

Something I’m hopeless at.

Something he’s clearly accomplished at.

And Shep’s teasing from the other night comes back to me.I dismissed it as drunken shit-giving, but apparently, it was the truth.

Storm Harrison can braid hair.

“Like that?”he asks softly, and I jump, realize that he’s finished and secured the ends with ponytail holders.

“This is amazing!”Holly chirps, spinning around, those perfect braids flying as she launches herself at Storm.She squeezes him tightly in that wonderful,Hollyway she has—the one that makes me feel both a hundred feet tall and like I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces at the wrong touch because I’m so full of love for this tiny human.

And I know she giveshimthat too because I see it written into every line of his face.

Then Holly’s pulling back, tearing from the room and nearly plowing me over.“I can’t wait to show Asher my hair!”she bellows, running for the kitchen.

“Breakfast first,” I call after her.

“We found her toothbrush,” Storm murmurs, and I whip back to face him, my heart hurting in the best possible way.

Throat tight, I just nod.

He brushes his knuckles over the top of my cheek.“You able to eat and take the pills?”

I nod again.

“Good,” he murmurs.

“Storm,” I begin as he starts to walk by me.

Gray eyes on mine, an edgy tenseness in his frame.