“My Thea.” His words ruffled her hair as they twirled slowly around the glade. She thought she might melt.
Long ago, she and Becca had sat on the edge of the dance floor singing at Jake as he danced with some girl who kept stepping on his feet. “Jake, Jake, Earthquake. Jake, Jake, Beefcake. Jake, Jake, Cupcake. Jake, Jake, Hotcake.” All the while, Thea had secretly hoped he would sweep her into his arms and waltz her away. Now she was the one standing on his feet as they danced.
“Dreams do come true,” she whispered into his hair.
“Yes, they do. This is one of mine.”
She buried her face into his neck and inhaled. He was the one who smelled like the mountain—like raw wood and rich loam. His skin was hot beneath her lips as she kissed him there. She lifted her head to kiss beneath his ear
