After he ordered and paid—much to Willow’s chagrin—they found a seat near the window and finally, Harry got the one-on-one time he craved.
He had so many things to ask, so many things he wanted to know, he couldn’t decide where to start. And to make matters worse, his need to touch her tangled with all the questions in his head and made it difficult to speak. Even sitting across from her, with only a table separating them, was too much distance for his taste.
He wanted to run his fingers across her cheekbone, let his mouth explore her elegantly long neck. He wanted to run his hands up her trim body and watch goose bumps spread across her skin. He wanted to start kissing behind her ear and work his way down her stomach until he spread her legs and tasted her.
Willow leaned in, folding her arms on the table. “I’m curious. When you’re not running a business or restoring cars or jogging on the beach, what do you like to do for fun?”
I’d like to do you for fun, he thought and tried not to grin like an idiot and give himself away.
“Believe it or not,” he said, sitting back as James arrived with their food. “That pretty much takes up the majority of my time. Being passionate about what you do is both a gift and a curse.”
“You’re telling me.” Willow picked the croutons out of her salad with her fork and pushed them aside. “Luckily, dancers like to play just as hard as we work, so there’s almost always somewhere to go after rehearsal, but it’s always with other dancers. Which is fine,” she said quickly, though something in her posture made Harry believe it wasn’t actually fine.
He’d been teasing earlier, when he told her he wondered if she ever said what she was really thinking, but part of him started to wonder if he’d hit the nail on the head. There was something about the topic of dance she had locked up tight.
“If you didn’t have to work so hard, and you didn’t always spend time with other dancers, what would you do?”
The question took Willow off guard. She put down her fork and leaned forward, threading her fingers together and placing them underneath her chin. “What would I do?” she asked, almost to herself. “What does it say that I don’t know the answer to that question?”
“Maybe it says you’re happy with the life you live.”
There it was again.
That flash of darkness in her eyes.
The one that Harry didn’t think she even knew existed.
“That sounds about right.” She took another bite of her salad. “Oh! I know! I’d actually put dressing on my salad and eat French fries whenever I wanted. That’s definitely something I’d do.”
It was probably the worst idea of his life, trying to get to know Willow—really know her—in a week…especially considering he might never see her again. But the chemistry between them was undeniable. He couldn’t imagine being in the same town with her and not being together. If he had to, he’d use every excuse he could think of to get more time with her, consequences be damned.
When they left the cafe, Harry drove straight to the beach. Willow carried her shoes as they walked along the water’s edge, the ocean licking over her feet and lapping the hem of her dress, causing her to laugh and hop out of the way. As they walked, they opened up, sharing every thought that entered their hearts and heads.
No filters.
No practiced answers.
Just plain, unadulterated truth.
At least not until Harry asked about dancing—then, just like at the café, he felt like Willow switched on auto-pilot. Like she was giving him answers she’d recited in front of a mirror. Answers she’d practiced to perfection, until even she believed they were true…whether they were or not. Something told him she wasn’t as happy as she thought she was.
Hours passed like minutes as they walked and talked. Afternoon faded to evening and the time to take Willow home to Juliet inevitably arrived. Reluctantly, he led her back to the GTO. His desire to touch her was so strong, so undeniable, that he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers before he could think better of it.
There was a moment of stunned silence, of a stillness that was fear and anticipation wrapped into one terrifying moment of self-doubt. And then Willow returned his kiss, her lips sweet and delicate. Her hands drew ever so lightly up his back before they clutched at his shoulders, kneading into his muscles. Harry ran his fingers into her hair, pleased to find it as soft as he’d imagined.
He drew back, just enough to free his lips. “I suppose I should say I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to do that all day and I refuse to apologize for something that wonderful.” The wind rustled in their hair and blew her dress against his legs.
“Good,” she murmured, her voice deep and warm like sunshine and amber. “I don’t know what it is about you…”
Harry desperately wanted her to continue her thought, but she reached up to kiss him again and that was just as good as knowing what she was about to say.
Chapter Fourteen
Willow
Up to the moment Harry’s lips touched hers, Willow thought she knew what it meant to want something so badly she defined her entire life around it. As far back as her memories went, every dream, every waking thought, had all been about ballet and how to further her career.
She didn’t want to be better.
She wanted to be the best.
And with one perfect kiss, everything changed. Wrapped in Harry’s embrace, Willow realized she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted him. Words like destiny, soulmate, and true love flitted through her mind, distracting her from whatever conversation she tried to have on their short drive back to Juliet’s. She loved her friend. Dearly. But in that moment—if she could have one wish
