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Dash had labeled me a hugger years ago. It was true. I hugged. But what people didn’t seem to understand was that I didn’t only hug for them. I hugged for me. When my emotions got the best of me, when life got to be too much, I always went for the hug.
Presley was . . . different. Special. I looked at her and saw a safe harbor. A vault. She guarded the people at the garage so fiercely that I wanted a sliver of that loyalty too. And she was asking because she wanted to hear it from me, from my perspective.
“Someday, years from now, I’m going to remember that time the gorgeous movie star kissed the hell out of me in my kitchen on my birthday.” And any time I thought of Montana, I’d remember the woman with eyes bluer than the big sky. Or maybe I’d just think of her, no trigger needed. Maybe when it was time to go, there’d be no leaving her behind.
loved that kiss. I wanted a kiss like that every day until I was in dentures.
His laughter was like music, and the more I heard it, the more I could make out different notes. Like his smile, it was different when it was real. It was huskier and came from deeper in his throat. It was raw and unrefined.
You’re stronger and better than your past. Choose the life you want and work your ass off to make it happen.
Kissing Shaw hadn’t felt wrong, not in the moment. Feeling his lips on mine was like coming home after a long day. It was like finding the sanctuary, the solace I’d been missing for months. The boat of my life stopped rocking. The waters of my soul calmed.
