Page 45 of Counting the Days

“Hello…?”

“I gotta go,” Rhea said, and hung up while Tiny protested.

Rhea dug a rain jacket out of her suitcase and zipped it on. She opened the door and stepped outside. The rain obscured her vision as she sloshed through the flooded lawn and ran down the dirt path. She stopped just before the bridge and was surprised to see Danny on the other side, moving quickly in her direction. He stood still at the sight of her.

“Hi,” she yelled over the rain.

“Hi,” he yelled back.

“I was going to your room,” they yelled at the same time.

Rhea waited, praying he would say he’d changed his mind and he could maybe someday see himself being a father. Even if it was only a crack in his resolve, the tiniest sliver…

He was soaked and breathing heavily. “I just…I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to make sure you knew how much I liked you. And if you ever change your mind…about all the kid stuff, I mean. I hope you call me—like, immediately.”

He had not changed his mind. Rhea would have to change hers. He was right there on the other side of the bridge. She just needed to cross it. She just needed to take one step toward him.

Before she could overthink it, she was moving, closing the gap between them as he rushed toward her. They met in the middle and their mouths found each other. His lips opened to hers, softly taking her in as he drew her body close to his chest. He tasted of peppermint tea and firewood. His hands were on her face, then inside her hood, buried in her impossible hair.

Her hands were on his shoulders, his neck, pulling him in, still trying to remove any gap between them, although none remained. She moaned into his kiss, and his hands cupped her face, guiding her mouth even closer. She took his hand, turned around, and together they ran through the rain back to her room. She unlocked her door, they ripped off their jackets, and he picked her up, kissed her hard, and put her down on the bed.

The Edible Gardener is on my bed,she thought as he slowly climbed on top of her. He parted her legs so he could move in between them, and she thought she would die from needing him. The pressure of him between her legs, even with two pairs of jeans between them, made her gasp.

He moved his hands over her shirt, up her stomach, skipped her breasts, and resumed his patient, gentle caress along the sideof her neck. He was being a gentleman, and that made her want to rip her shirt off and press his hands against her chest. Every cell ached from needing him. He gently squeezed her throat, then delicately traced her lips with his fingertips. She bit his fingers and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him long and deep.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I like you so much—”

“I’m crazy about you—I can’t think straight when you’re near me.”

“I can’t have sex with you.”

“Okay,” he said as he kissed her neck and buried his hands in her unruly curls.

“Ireallycan’t.”

“That’sreallyokay,” he said as his lips grazed her rib cage. “Jesus, your body is insane.”

He slid his hands beneath her and lifted her toward his mouth as he kissed her stomach. She moaned, and he moved back up to her face, kissing her deeply.

“Those noises you’re making…God, you seriously drive me crazy,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

“I really can’t have sex with you.”

He laughed. “Are you trying to get me to talk you into it? ’Cause I’m not gonna do that.”

“I think I’m just trying to talk myselfout of it. I would like you too much if we did.”

“Is that supposed to sound like a bad thing?”

“No, it’s just—sex makes me get very attached.”

“Well, for the record, you being attached to me sounds fantastic, but if you don’t want to be, we will not have sex…no matter what. Even if you keep tossing all those noises at me.”

She laughed. He looked into her eyes, kissed her again, thenrolled off of her. He lay next to her on his side and rested his head in the crook of his elbow. She turned onto her side to face him. She took a mental photograph of the exact way his black hair curled on his forehead, his lips were slightly swollen from kissing her, and his damp shirt clung to his statuesque torso.

“You really are so beautiful…,” he said, brushing a piece of hair off her face.