I lift my hand, adding it in ASL—the I-L-Y on my fingers forming into one single sign to convey this very big feeling in my chest. Thorne’s gaze slams into mine, and I see the intensity in those depths. I want to put my tea down, crawl into his lap, and suck on those lips, but before I can, I see movement in the distance. A critter waving at me from the fence post. My gaze narrows, and I shoot up. “Fucking Michael! He’s ruining the moment! He knew this was going to happen! He had this planned!”
