Her palm was against the screen door. And when Zoey saw him, she sighed with the same longing that was tearing him apart and leaned her forehead against the screen.
“Thank you, Graham. For everything.”
Closing his eyes, Graham placed his hand to the screen opposite hers, resting his forehead to Zoey’s own.
And when her thumb pressed into his, the lightest of touches, Graham was done.
“I can’t do this anymore.” His words a desperate rasp of misery as all reason abandoned him.
“I know. I just—”
Jerking open the screen door, Graham took her face in his hands and kissed her. He kissed her because not kissing her was like trying to swim backward in a riptide. Whether he liked it or not, his heart had pulled him to her, and there was no going back now. She was leaving, and Graham couldn’t do a damn thing to stop that.
All he could do was make the most of what time they had left.
When Zoey pulled away, breathless and eyes wide, Graham allowed himself a moment to let this sink in. To enjoy the anticipation of having her in his arms. Running a thumb along her jaw in silent question, he waited for her. And when she nodded, reaching for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, Graham picked her up, walked a few steps, and set her on the counter.
He closed the door with his free hand, locking it this time because he was not getting interrupted. Wanting her was like breathing, an involuntary reaction necessary for survival. Touching her was coming home. Never had Graham known how lost he was, but he was lost without her.
Tonight proved it.
“You’re breaking my heart, Zoey Bear. You know that, right?” Those gorgeous eyes gleamed with instant tears. She started to pull back, but Graham shook his head, smiling against her lips. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”
“Graham? I love you.”
Brokenhearted wasn’t anywhere close to what this felt like. With four soft words, she had destroyed him.
And as he drew her into his arms, into his bed and too deep into his life, Graham knew that no one else would be able to fix what loving her had done to him.
Chapter 17
The sun never really set up there, leaving a soft glow of gray light around the edges of the window shade. After two weeks of sleeping on a couch, it felt good to curl up on a real bed, a pillow beneath her head that wasn’t starched and perfectly pressed. This pillow was soft and lumpy and real. It smelled like shampoo and Graham, deodorant and bakery bread, and was warm like the space next to her in the now empty bed.
For a moment, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before, waking up in his bed alone. But then Zoey opened her eyes and saw the small take-out bag on the nightstand next to her, with the label marked from that morning. Opening the bag revealed a cinnamon roll from Frankie’s.
He’d snuck out of bed and gotten her favorite breakfast. A whole different kind of warmth filled her, and Zoey rolled onto her back, wriggling deeper in the bedding.
“You get points for that one,” she decided.
He got points for more than breakfast. As she closed her eyes, memories of last night curled around her as pleasantly as Graham’s arms had as she slept. Being with Graham was a perfect combination of sweet kisses and soft teasing, tempering an otherwise unbridled passion that left her shivering in remembrance. He’d put it all on the table, letting her see how much he wanted her.
The sound of a chainsaw was muted enough she almost didn’t notice it, so lost in her memories. Curious, Zoey rose out of bed—nearly stepping on a snoozing Jake.
“Sorry,” she murmured, patting his head before peering out the window. The large door to Graham’s workshop was swung closed but still slightly ajar.
“What’s he up to, Jake? Or did he just wander off on you like normal?”
The border collie wagged his tail adorably in answer.
After dressing, Zoey found a sticky note on the bathroom mirror pointing at a still packaged toothbrush sitting on the counter. Smiling to herself at his thoughtfulness, she finished getting ready, then headed outside.
Graham had moved outside his workshop, chainsaw in hands and welding mask over his face. There was a looseness to his stance, a relaxation to his shoulders that matched what Zoey felt. Circling the log, Graham seemed to consider it, tilting his head to the right for a moment. Then he lifted the chainsaw higher and started carving.
Watching him work fascinated Zoey. By the time he was done, little bits of wood and a thin coating of sawdust clung to his arms and chest. Graham set the chainsaw aside, pushing the welding mask up from his face. He eyed his work critically but for once seemed pleased with the result. As Graham ran a careful thumb along the newly carved lines in the log, Zoey couldn’t help but remember the night before.
That was how he touched her too.
“Hey there, Zoey Bear,” Graham murmured sweetly. “Did I wake you up?”
“Only in the good way.”
Meeting him at the log, Zoey went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkled as she made a face, wiping her lips to remove sawdust from them.
“The fiber’s good for you,” he reminded her even as he peeled his shirt off and used the inside of the fabric to scrub his face and neck clean of debris.
The view around her was fabulous, but the view in front of her was good enough to leave her mouth watering.
Remembering those same broad shoulders and muscled arms from last night, she closed the distance between them. Tracing her palms over his stomach, Zoey felt his muscles contract beneath her touch. When she glanced up at him, Graham was watching her with heat in his eyes.
“Sorry, not sorry. The goods were on display.”
Snorting a laugh, Graham wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her closer. “Voyeur.”
“Maybe.”
They snuck into the workshop, craving privacy even though they were alone. The steel shipping container that had once freaked her out was now the perfect place to wrap her arms around Graham’s waist. This time, there wasn’t sawdust when she kissed him, only the hint of coffee and the same minty toothpaste she’d used herself. Graham deepened the kiss, taking a step forward so that her hips bumped his work bench. Sitting on top of the bench worked a lot better. Zoey didn’t have to crane her head back to kiss him, and his muscled torso was far more accessible.
Graham kissed his way down the side of her neck, nipping lightly at the junction of her shoulder and making her tighten her knees into his hips.
“Here?” she murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll get splinters in my butt. And other places.”