Page 57 of Something Like Shelter

Willa pulled my arm upward as she leaned down. Then I felt the brush of her lips on my skin. The hypersensitivity of the burn only made me more aware of the brush—the shape of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the feel of her hand cradling mine.

She straightened as my other arm seemed to have a mind of its own, lifting, reaching out, then tucking the hair back behind her ear.

View unobstructed, there was no missing the heat in her eyes as her gaze swept up to mine.

My fingers traced the top of her ear, slipped down the side. They should have dropped then. Instead, they traced down to her jaw, the side of her neck.

Willa’s lips parted.

Her breath went short and shallow.

My burnt hand moved, sought the gentle curve of her hip.

Her gaze did a triangle between my eyes and lips. Her head angled back in a silent invitation.

I shifted closer, started to angle down.

The oven beeped, startling us apart, the spell of the moment broken.

Both feeling awkward, I turned to the oven, she reached for drinking glasses. And we both silently agreed not to mention it, to act like that almost-kiss had never happened.

“Do you—” Willa started, noticed the thickness in her voice, cleared her throat, and tried again, “Do you want me to go get Tuna?”

“So he can hide under the table and paw us while we eat?”

“So he does have a flaw,” she said, shooting me a little smile.

“Just the one. I’m going to grab the brisket and asparagus. Ten minutes until we eat.”

“Great. I’ll just check on Adelaide.”

I waited until I heard her most of the way up the stairs before whacking my forehead against the upper cabinet and letting out a sigh.

Well.

That happened.

And I had no damn idea what to think about it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Willa

There was a soft knock at the front door that sent my heart flying up into my throat, waking me out of a dead sleep on the couch. Adelaide and I had crashed there after she’d kept me up most of the night, seemingly to go through a little sleep regression patch.

I stumbled through the foyer on aching legs, blinking at the early morning light streaming in as I reached the door.

I glanced at the monitor next to the door, seeing what was on the other side .

Not what.

Who.

Namely, Tuna.

I disabled the alarm and undid the locks, pulling the door open for the dog to bound inside, sniffing around for, I imagined, my daughter.

Leaving me alone with his owner.