Definitely, Maybe in Love(59)

He leaned against me, pressing my back against the wall, our bodies a solid line.

"I believe you have one last question," he said as he kissed a trail  down my throat. When his last kiss touched my collar bone, he pulled  away and looked me in the eyes. I stared back, breathing hard.

"Come, Honeycutt," he said, taking my hand, intertwining our fingers.  "You've parched me dry." He led us downstairs and sat me on the couch.  "Your last question," he prompted, passing me a water bottle to share.

I scooched back and draped my legs across his lap. "There's a preamble first," I said.                       
       
           



       

"How unlike you."

"Did you get my thesis in the mail?"

Henry smiled and ran a hand over my legs. "Yesterday. I would've arrived  back here two hours sooner, but I couldn't leave until I'd read it.  Twice. I'll admit, I was surprisingly impressed, though I shouldn't have  been." He reached out and ran a finger along my hairline, stopping on  the indent of my temple. "This beautiful brain," he murmured reverently.  "But you didn't see my side of the issue in the end." There was a  twinkle in his eyes.

I leaned over and kissed him. "Your side is wrong," I whispered, lingering on the corner of his mouth.

"No, your side is wrong," he countered, then gently bit my bottom lip. "Publication?"

I touched my forehead to his. "Oxford University Press."

He grinned. "Shut up."

"And a grant that paid for my summer research trip." I twirled a finger  around his curls then traced down to the tip of his nose. "Which brings  me to my last question. What were you thinking when you first saw me at  the ranch?"

Henry sat back and held a fist to his grinning mouth. "Several things,"  he admitted. "You'd somehow found your way to my home. I knew that meant  something. After that, I wasn't too worried. Either you loved me or you  didn't. I felt you did, so I let the chips fall."

I smiled, knowing I would never tire of his logic, ever awed by his  faith in us. "You thought all of that when you first saw me?"

"Not right then. My very first thought was fear you would think I was stalking you."

"You stalking me?" I laughed. "I was the one who showed up at your house out of the blue."

His arms circled me, tightly, remembering this fact with approval.

"And I was the one who busted in on your family reunion      with Tyler."

"That's right," he said, narrowing his eyes. "What is the punishment for  illegal pursuit in the state of California?" He touched his forehead to  mind, his eyes gleaming. "I believe the penalty is harsh and extensive.  Ready to pay up?"

"Neither incidence occurred in California," I stated. "Ergo, the law clearly states-"

I didn't see it coming, but suddenly he had me in a bear hug, whispering  Latin jurisprudential terms into my ear as he rolled us off the couch.

"If this is your way of showing approval of my intelligence," I said,  pinning his shoulders to the floor, "then maybe I'll demonstrate my  knowledge of human anatomy later."

"Now you're really speaking my language." He shifted his shoulders, but I held him in place.

"I have great hope for us," I said, gazing down at him. "Despite our opposing views on-"

He covered my mouth with his and then slowly rolled us so he was on top.  This took me by surprise, startled a bit by the feeling of the full  weight of a man pinning me flat. Then Henry smiled above me, propped up  by his elbows. I had an overwhelming desire to extend my neck and finish  that kiss until we both exploded.

"Opposition makes for good debates, Spring," he whispered, leaning down  to nuzzle into the side of my neck. "And I plan on having very good  debates with you for at least the next ten presidential elections."

"Despite the rallies and protests"-I rubbed the back of his neck-"and lectures and fracking?"

He growled into my hair. "Especially the fracking."

"In that case," I said, breathing in the smell of his skin, "I am even more optimistic about our future compromises."

When Henry kissed me, I was hyper aware of his body, the way it shifted  and changed, and the way mine responded almost too naturally. Everything  I felt with him was just plain natural, meant to be.

"There's a 5K charity run benefitting clean-up of San Francisco Bay next  month," he said a moment later. "Why don't I sign us up for that?"

"Only if we help clean up the beach afterwards. I'll sign us up for that."

Henry laughed into my hair. To sweeten the deal, I tugged up the back of  his shirt so I could run my hands from the small of his back all the  way up to his strong shoulders. I noticed the way it made him tremble  against me, and wondered if my body had reacted the same way every time  he touched me like that. "What do you think?" I whispered.

"I'll do anything you say," he replied, kissing the side of my neck. "By the way, there's something I have to confess."

"What's that?" I asked, though I was barely able to hear anything  besides blood whooshing behind my ears and his sweet breathing.                       
       
           



       

"I've been a vegetarian for three months."

"Nooo!" I laughed, hugging him even tighter. "I have a confession for you, then."

He pulled back, balancing on his elbows, gazing down in a way that made  my body temperature shoot through the roof. "Yes?" he asked.

"I …  Sorry, wow, this is hard to say."

His expression turned somber. "Spring, baby, you can tell me anything. I promise."

"Okay." I took in a deep breath. "I ate a hamburger last month. Two, actually."

Henry rolled off me and covered his eyes, crumpling in laughter.

I couldn't help giggling as I watched his eyes water.

"See, Honeycutt," he said at last, gathering me to him. "We're more compatible than we thought."

I kissed his cheek, his nose, his eyelids, his cranberry mouth. "And so it begins."





Acknowledgments

This story has been around for a while, and every person who has touched it has made it better, shinier, and smexier.

Stacy Honeycutt Shakespeare-Abrams: thank you for taking a chance on a  story that wasn't quite ready, for trusting me and for asking me the  right questions to make it ready. As always, your insight is invaluable.  I love that you know when Spring is in a good mood and when Henry's  clothes aren't that important. You deserve a pair of argyle "stockings"  with your name on them.

Erica Chapman: thank you for stepping into this project, for your  enthusiasm and excitement and for messaging me in the middle of the day  when we both should've been working. And for loving sexy Henry as much  as I do.

Karen Grove: I'm beyond thrilled to be writing for Embrace. The new  adult genre is such a fun age to write. Thank you for giving me the okay  and for making me think all deep and hard and stuff. Dang you!

Sue Winegardner: thank you for always being around to talk me through  when I've written myself into a corner and for telling me when my  characters need to be just a little bit more likable. Oh, and thanks a  ton for getting me hooked on British fruity malt loaf.

Nancy Carr: Remember that night we were driving back from the opera (and  we'd worn jeans … faux pas!) and you helped me finally come up with a way  to fix that huge plot point? Yeah, that was pretty awesome. Thank you,  bunny, for meeting me for custard after VM and VB and for being the best  beta reader ever to walk the face of the earth.

Susan Smith: Remember when this used to be a stage musical and you  wanted so badly for Henry to bust out a little Sister Hazel? To this  day, every time I hear that song I think of you … and Henry … and a bunch of  Bingleys dancing across the stage to Gershwin. Frack, that would've  been cool.

Jen Long: merci beaucoup for your lightning-fast French proof, and for  helping me with those tricky swear words. And sorry you accidentally  sent that one email to your boss …

Thank you to my publicity team at Entangled, to Jessica Cantor for  creating a cover that causes my heart to pound, and to all the other  Entangled authors who make writing for EP such a freaking joy.

Thank you to my family and friends who are always so patient and  understanding with me when I'm tucked away in my writer's cave. And to  my mother who gave me the gift of Colin Firth in a wet shirt. I haven't  been the same since.

Most of all, thank you to Jane Austen. Girl, two hundred years later, your words and characters still rock our world.