Definitely, Maybe in Love

“And a grant that paid for my summer research trip.” I twirled a finger around his curls then traced down to the tip of his nose. “Which brings me to my last question. What were you thinking when you first saw me at the ranch?”

Henry sat back and held a fist to his grinning mouth. “Several things,” he admitted. “You’d somehow found your way to my home. I knew that meant something. After that, I wasn’t too worried. Either you loved me or you didn’t. I felt you did, so I let the chips fall.”

I smiled, knowing I would never tire of his logic, ever awed by his faith in us. “You thought all of that when you first saw me?”

“Not right then. My very first thought was fear you would think I was stalking you.”

“You stalking me?” I laughed. “I was the one who showed up at your house out of the blue.”

His arms circled me, tightly, remembering this fact with approval.

“And I was the one who busted in on your family reunion with Tyler.”

“That’s right,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “What is the punishment for illegal pursuit in the state of California?” He touched his forehead to mind, his eyes gleaming. “I believe the penalty is harsh and extensive. Ready to pay up?”

“Neither incidence occurred in California,” I stated. “Ergo, the law clearly states—”

I didn’t see it coming, but suddenly he had me in a bear hug, whispering Latin jurisprudential terms into my ear as he rolled us off the couch.

“If this is your way of showing approval of my intelligence,” I said, pinning his shoulders to the floor, “then maybe I’ll demonstrate my knowledge of human anatomy later.”

“Now you’re really speaking my language.” He shifted his shoulders, but I held him in place.

“I have great hope for us,” I said, gazing down at him. “Despite our opposing views on—”

He covered my mouth with his and then slowly rolled us so he was on top. This took me by surprise, startled a bit by the feeling of the full weight of a man pinning me flat. Then Henry smiled above me, propped up by his elbows. I had an overwhelming desire to extend my neck and finish that kiss until we both exploded.

“Opposition makes for good debates, Spring,” he whispered, leaning down to nuzzle into the side of my neck. “And I plan on having very good debates with you for at least the next ten presidential elections.”

“Despite the rallies and protests”—I rubbed the back of his neck—“and lectures and fracking?”

He growled into my hair. “Especially the fracking.”

“In that case,” I said, breathing in the smell of his skin, “I am even more optimistic about our future compromises.”

When Henry kissed me, I was hyper aware of his body, the way it shifted and changed, and the way mine responded almost too naturally. Everything I felt with him was just plain natural, meant to be.

“There’s a 5K charity run benefitting clean-up of San Francisco Bay next month,” he said a moment later. “Why don’t I sign us up for that?”

“Only if we help clean up the beach afterwards. I’ll sign us up for that.”

Henry laughed into my hair. To sweeten the deal, I tugged up the back of his shirt so I could run my hands from the small of his back all the way up to his strong shoulders. I noticed the way it made him tremble against me, and wondered if my body had reacted the same way every time he touched me like that. “What do you think?” I whispered.

“I’ll do anything you say,” he replied, kissing the side of my neck. “By the way, there’s something I have to confess.”

“What’s that?” I asked, though I was barely able to hear anything besides blood whooshing behind my ears and his sweet breathing.

“I’ve been a vegetarian for three months.”

“Nooo!” I laughed, hugging him even tighter. “I have a confession for you, then.”

He pulled back, balancing on his elbows, gazing down in a way that made my body temperature shoot through the roof. “Yes?” he asked.

“I… Sorry, wow, this is hard to say.”

His expression turned somber. “Spring, baby, you can tell me anything. I promise.”

“Okay.” I took in a deep breath. “I ate a hamburger last month. Two, actually.”

Henry rolled off me and covered his eyes, crumpling in laughter.

I couldn’t help giggling as I watched his eyes water.

“See, Honeycutt,” he said at last, gathering me to him. “We’re more compatible than we thought.”

I kissed his cheek, his nose, his eyelids, his cranberry mouth. “And so it begins.”

Acknowledgments

This story has been around for a while, and every person who has touched it has made it better, shinier, and smexier.

Stacy Honeycutt Shakespeare-Abrams: thank you for taking a chance on a story that wasn’t quite ready, for trusting me and for asking me the right questions to make it ready. As always, your insight is invaluable. I love that you know when Spring is in a good mood and when Henry’s clothes aren’t that important. You deserve a pair of argyle “stockings” with your name on them.

Erica Chapman: thank you for stepping into this project, for your enthusiasm and excitement and for messaging me in the middle of the day when we both should’ve been working. And for loving sexy Henry as much as I do.

Karen Grove: I’m beyond thrilled to be writing for Embrace. The new adult genre is such a fun age to write. Thank you for giving me the okay and for making me think all deep and hard and stuff. Dang you!

Sue Winegardner: thank you for always being around to talk me through when I’ve written myself into a corner and for telling me when my characters need to be just a little bit more likable. Oh, and thanks a ton for getting me hooked on British fruity malt loaf.

Nancy Carr: Remember that night we were driving back from the opera (and we’d worn jeans… faux pas!) and you helped me finally come up with a way to fix that huge plot point? Yeah, that was pretty awesome. Thank you, bunny, for meeting me for custard after VM and VB and for being the best beta reader ever to walk the face of the earth.

Susan Smith: Remember when this used to be a stage musical and you wanted so badly for Henry to bust out a little Sister Hazel? To this day, every time I hear that song I think of you…and Henry…and a bunch of Bingleys dancing across the stage to Gershwin. Frack, that would’ve been cool.

Jen Long: merci beaucoup for your lightning-fast French proof, and for helping me with those tricky swear words. And sorry you accidentally sent that one email to your boss…

Thank you to my publicity team at Entangled, to Jessica Cantor for creating a cover that causes my heart to pound, and to all the other Entangled authors who make writing for EP such a freaking joy.

Thank you to my family and friends who are always so patient and understanding with me when I’m tucked away in my writer’s cave. And to my mother who gave me the gift of Colin Firth in a wet shirt. I haven’t been the same since.

Most of all, thank you to Jane Austen. Girl, two hundred years later, your words and characters still rock our world.

About the Author

Ophelia London was born and raised among the redwood trees in beautiful Northern California. Once she was fully educated, she decided to settle in Florida, but her car broke down in Texas, and she’s lived in Dallas ever