girlish and happy? Josephine went through life very seriously. She was committed to facts, not feelings, and her life revolved around work and being useful and practical.
“What are you thinking now?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious I have a tendency to overthink everything?”
“I like it. I like you. Don’t ever apologize for being you, Josephine.”
The commanding gruffness in his voice made her throat swell closed. She felt a ridiculous need to cry. It had been such a strange and wonderful few days with him here, and everything inside her felt full and tender and new.
“We should head back to the house so I can focus on dinner,” she said.
He caught her by the wrist to stop her from escaping. “You never answered my question. What were you thinking just a moment ago?”
She suppressed a shiver as he stroked the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb, setting her alight. “That I’m happy,” she said unsteadily, trying not to look at his mouth, trying not to remember their kiss earlier, because it had been perfect, and he made her feel beautiful and perfect, and standing close to him made her shockingly aware of how much she wanted to feel more. “And...” She gulped a breath and then lifted her chin, determined to finish her thought. “I’m happy you’re here.”
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