Finally they either had to stop or take things a step further. Jess felt so alive, so feminine and womanly, something she hadn’t felt in a long time and it was tempting to see where things might lead. But she hadn’t totally shut off her brain and she knew better than to let things get out of hand. Rick either felt the same or sensed her hesitation, because the kiss gentled, tapering off into a light grazing of lips again before the contact broke.
She felt sorry the moment there was space between them.
But Rick kept his arms looped around her hips, and in a surprisingly tender move, touched his forehead to hers. Confused, she lifted her gaze just a bit and saw his eyes were closed, his thick lashes touching his cheeks. A wave of tenderness swept over her. Their one and only kiss before this moment paled in comparison to this one. It had been innocent and carefree, but this … this was more. This had a decade of pain and wisdom behind it, making it all the more amazing.
Jess reached up and smoothed a rebellious curl away from his temple, feeling more affected than she was comfortable with. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to get sucked into caring for a man clearly so damaged. In her deepest dreams, Jess envisioned herself meeting a man like her brother-in-law, Mark, or one of her cousins, someone who didn’t have his own demons to fight, someone who wasn’t one drink away from being an alcoholic. In other words, the opposite of Rick Sullivan.
Which was easy to say—when she was alone in her loft thinking about hypotheticals—and way harder when she was standing in the circle of Rick Sullivan’s arms in the late afternoon.
“Wow,” he finally said, the word barely more than a breath.
“Um, yeah,” she replied, trying to put things back on a more normal footing. She leaned back a little so his hands slid from the hollow of her back to her hips. “Wow is right. That was even better than the last time.”
“You were keeping score?” he asked, his eyes widening while his lips took on that cocky edge that she loved.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she admonished. “We were young.”
“A lot has happened since then,” he admitted. “For both of us.”
“We can’t do this, Rick. I can’t.” She stepped away and out of his loose embrace. She didn’t quite know what she regretted more—actually kissing him or putting a stop to the possibility of ever kissing him again.
He smiled a rogue’s smile and she felt herself melting. “We just did,” he pointed out.
Yes, they had. And it had been amazing, she admitted to herself. “I mean, we can’t do this again.”
The smile slid from his face. “You don’t trust me.”
It sounded so terrible, and yet it was true. “It’s not all you. I don’t trust myself, or my judgment.” Her judgment had left a lot to be desired in the past. What if she made the wrong decisions again?
His dark eyes held hers. “Yet you trusted me with the truth about Mike.”
&nb
sp; She blinked. “That’s different,” she said quietly. “I shared that with a friend. It’s a lot different when there are hearts at stake.”
He scoffed and looked away. “As if I could ever break your heart.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
Silence filled the room as Rick looked back at her, his lips dropped open in surprise. Jess wanted to disappear but at the same time she’d made a promise to herself not to avoid honest and important conversations.
“Jess, I…”
“I care about you, Rick,” she said softly. “We’ve known each other for years. And I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you. Even as a kid.” Jess paused, smiling softly. “Remember when you worked for that landscape company? You used to wear ratty jeans and work boots and had a huge farmer tan.”
“No matter how hot it got, we always had to wear our work T-shirts and no shorts,” he replied with a note of nostalgia.
“I don’t think there was a girl in Jewell Cove who didn’t have a crush on you at least a little bit.”
He shook his head and laughed a little. “Now I know you’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” she insisted, her voice firmer.
“That was ten years ago. Look at me, Jess. I’m not the same man I was when I left. We both know it.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “We do. And I’m smart enough now to know it has very little to do with your injury and a lot more to do with what’s happening inside.”
His cheeks colored a little. So she was right. There was more going on with Rick than adjusting to life as an amputee.