“Oof.”
That’s the noise Kyle makes when I barrel into his torso, flinging myself like an eager sack of potatoes into his lap. My elbow thumps against the table, sending shock waves throbbing through my funny bone, but for once I barely feel the pain.
I’m too busy scrabbling closer, arms winding around the bar boss’s neck; too busy wedging my knees on either side of his hips. Yes. It’s cramped and awkward and a little uncomfortable in this booth, but there’s no place in the world I’d rather be.
“Jesus,” Kyle says, his strong arms wrapping around me and crushing me close. “Okay, so this is happening.”
Hell yeah it is.
And maybe I’ve been shy and cautious and so freaking careful all my life, tip-toeing through the world, but I don’t feel shy right now. Not since settling my ass in Kyle’s
