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I shake my head and shove at his chest, but he takes my hand and falls back with laughter, pulling me down with him. His warm chest beats strong beneath me when I land half on top of him, and my own laughter dies, being replaced by a tingling sensation coursing its way through my body. Hewraps his big arm around me, fingers lightly brushing along my back leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His injured arm remains against his chest, in that damned sling. I prop my chin under my hand, hoping an additional layer of space between us will calm me down.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he whispers, his fingers continue to trail down my spine and I briefly close my eyes so that he doesn’t see everything I’m feeling. “Let’s do something.”

“Aren’t you sick of me yet?” I ask and lightly stroke his eyebrows with my middle finger.

“Nah, Nova. I like spending time with you.”

My hand stills and my throat swells with surprising emotion. I shove it down and resume trailing my finger over him.

“Careful, Knox, now it really does sound like you’re flirting with me.”

“That’s because I really am.”

My mouth parts, but I don’t have any words to respond to that. We’ve danced around this for days now—but hearing him acknowledge whatever tension this is between us somehow feels different. There’s an erratic flutter deep in my stomach and I swear something in my chest just dipped and soared. It’s the same feeling you get on those rides where they slowly pull you up to the highest peak and then let you freefall one hundred and fifty feet before catching you.

I suck in my bottom lip, considering how to respond.

I don’t get the chance.

The wind picks up, lifting the lid to our basket, and the contents fly everywhere. In a second, I’m on my feet chasing down the flower fabric napkins. Knox is running around, scooping up pieces of food and our now empty plastic cups. We look exactly like the lady and her floppy hat.

“Whose dumb idea was this?” I laugh, looking over at him.

A playful growl rumbles in the back of his throat as he rushes toward me, hands full of an assortment of picnic essentials. I can’t stop laughing at the image.

“Come here before you blow away too.” With cups tucked in the crook of his slung elbow, his free hand wraps around my waist. He pulls me in close, but movement behind him catches my eyes and with a gasp, I shove him away.

“Knox!” I yell, running towards our blanket that’s being lifted and thrown around like Aladdin’s magic carpet. Knox manages to snatch it mid-air before it has the chance to see a whole new world.

“Alright, Nova. I think the picnic is over.”

“Are you sure? We haven’t lost the charcuterie board yet. The grapes and cheese are gone though.” I shove the rest of our stuff in the basket. “Or you. You still haven’t blown away yet. That could be fun, me chasing you down.” I say, getting up and walking over to him.

“I would love for you to chase me down, but in an entirely different context.” And not even the heavy squalls threatening to take down the three hundred and twenty million-year-old cliffs could cool me down when he looks at me like that.

We barely makeit back to the truck without blowing off the cliff, and when I get inside of the cab, the forceful wind slams my door shut. The hollowing noise comes to an abrupt halt.

“Well, I don’t know why you don’t do that more often. That was simply lovely,” I breathe, pulling my hair back and twisting it into a knot on the top of my head. He puts thetruck in drive, shaking his head with a full belly laugh. “You think I’m crazy?”

“I think you’re fun.” He reaches over, brushing a wild strand of hair from my face. His hand lingers on my skin. “I think you’re exciting and adventurous. I think you’re lively and witty. I think you’re beautiful.” His thumb runs along my bottom lip, and my breath hitches. “But of all the things I think about you, crazy isn’t one of them.”

He drops his hand to stick shift and I lick my bottom lip, where the warmth of his thumb still lingers. If anyone else had said those words to me, I would have rolled my eyes and spit some snarky retort. But there’s so much sincerity in Knox’s eyes. I believe that he means every single thing he’s saying.

And isn’t that my worst-case scenario?

The sun has almost fallenbelow the hills, but even in the darkness, I recognize the gate that leads up toEmerald Browning Cottage.

“Stop!” I throw my arm out across Knox’s chest and he slams on the brakes, head snapping in my direction, eyes wide. In the beam of the headlights sits that little black cat. “You almost ran over your cat.”

“Jesus.” He drops his head back before looking back at me. “It’s still not my cat.”

“She might not be yoursyet, but she seems to think she belongs here. She’ll be yours soon enough. Trust me.”

The cat lies down right in front of the truck, the way cats do when they find a beam of sunlight being cast through a window, and Knox’s gaze shifts between his house and me.

“Do you want to come inside?”Yes.

“I shouldn’t.”