by Reid, Penny
Admittedly, this position was probably better as it allowed him to fondle me as well, his hand performing dreamy caresses on my skin, petting me as our pulses slowed and beat in unison.
I found my hand resting on his chest over his heart, unwilling to move, and I stared at it. He felt so strong, solid. A pang of emotion, residual fear and anguish seized my heart as I remembered waking up and believing for a moment that he was no longer.
“Hey.” His finger fit under my chin, forcing my eyes to his, and another sucker punch of feeling pushed the air from my lungs. “What’s—”
I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around him tightly and buried my face in his neck. “Don’t ever die.”
Roscoe released a short laugh, rolling onto his back, his warm hands rubbing circles on my back. “Only if you promise the same.”
“Okay.” I sniffed, blinking against sudden tears. “Deal.”
My answer made him chuckle and he continued rubbing soothing circles over my bare skin, making a low, rumbly sound of contentment.
We lay together, holding each other, breathing each other for a long time. So long, the dim light of dusk turned to night, outside illumination fading to darkness, the only light a lamp by the bed which cast everything in a gentle glow. And still I held him. I think part of me was afraid to let go.
But eventually, Roscoe stirred, returning us to our sides and cupping my face. His brow was knotted, and I sensed he had something on his mind, but struggled with how to start.
“What is it?” I asked softly, leaning forward to give him a light kiss.
“I want to be with you,” he said haltingly. “And I’m taking for granted here that you want to be with me.”
A slow grin claimed my mouth and I nodded. “I do.”
“So we need to talk about how to make that happen, what you’re willing to give me.”
“What I’m willing to give you?”
Roscoe sucked in a breath, his soulful gaze bouncing between mine. “I’m going to look for a job in DC.”
My eyes widened and a sudden tightness seized my chest, warmth unfurling to my limbs, my smile huge and immediate. “THAT IS FANTASTIC!” I yelled, tackle-hugging him, forgetting for a moment that he might still be recovering.
He laughed, sounding relieved. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“What else would I say?” I leaned away, placing my elbow on his breastbone but careful to keep it away from his scar.
“I don’t know, but it’s what I hoped you’d say.”
“Are you going to move in with me?” I asked, hopeful. “I love my building, because it has a Nancy, but we could get a bigger place, maybe two bedrooms so we have an office.”
All the sharpness and uncertainty in Roscoe’s gaze softened and disappeared. Grabbing my face, he brought my mouth to his for a firm kiss, now rolling me onto my back and straddling me. We kissed. We kissed and kissed, slow and fast, urgent and leisurely, until my lips felt tender and swollen. And still I wanted to suck his face.
But, alas, I could see he was tired. So I curled against him, my body relaxed, replete, my heart on wings, my brain full of ideas.
I couldn’t wait to show him the city, to take him to all my favorite places, to share everything with him and muddle my space with his things.
I couldn’t wait to have him in my life, for now, forever, for always. My throat clogged as I thought about it, as I considered this level of happiness and how fleeting it felt. I wanted to remember this moment, I wanted to bottle it up to keep for always, I wanted to take it out and relive it.
Maybe I can.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice sleep roughened.
I lifted onto my elbow, indulging in the sight of this achingly handsome man and his beautiful soul. “Will you tell me something?”
He opened one eye, a small happy smile hovering over his gorgeous lips. “What?”
“Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story?” His hand began moving again, this time it was slow circles on my bottom.
“Tell me about the first time you told me you loved me.”
His hand stilled. In fact, his entire person seemed to still.
Roscoe opened his eyes, his stare steady and guileless, and yet cloudy with something I couldn’t name. “That’s a difficult story for me to tell,” he admitted, his voice raspy with emotion this time.
Understanding him so much better now, and what it must mean to remember everything—the good and the bad—with such clarity of detail, I nodded, placing a gentle kiss on his nose.
“Maybe one day?”
He gave me a small smile, but his eyes hadn’t quite recovered. “One day.”
Pushing my fingers into his thick, dark hair, I scratched his scalp with my nails. “Then tell me a different story. A good one. One you like thinking about.”
The mists of discontent parted as his eyes lost focus again, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
I thought back, and I also smiled, and then I laughed. “You hated putting worms on fishing hooks.”
“I still do,” he said, and I was hit with a wave of nostalgia.
“I tricked you into kissing me,” I spoke as I remembered, laughing and biting my bottom lip.
“You did not,” he said, drawing my eyes back to his frowning face.
“I certainly did.”
“You absolutely did not.” He shook his head. “I remember everything.”
“Ah . . .” I gave him my most mischievous smile and trailed a finger from his ribs to his hip. Trying not to laugh, because this was going to be fun, I reminded the man who never forgot, “But you don’t have my memories.”
*The End*
Author’s Notes
Simone
Simone was a rare character for me in that, when I went back and read some of her chapters, she caught me by surprise with the things she said and thought, and made me laugh out loud. She and her family were an absolute joy for me to write. So much so, I feel we have not seen the last of the Paytons or their extended family . . .
I have to thank my sensitivity readers (LaRae, Amber, Nicole, Victoria, Jess, and Emily) for their time, effort, energy, and feedback. I also want to thank author Dylan Allen for giving critical scenes a first pass and providing insight for course corrections. If you haven’t read any of Dylan’s books, this is where I ask you what you’re waiting for.
What are you waiting for?
Roscoe
I knew early on (Duane’s book) that Roscoe would have a “memory thing.” Research was required and I identified several potential culprits (time-space synesthesia for example). However, after speaking with a few folks who have what’s called “eidetic memory,” I decided it fit him best.
Eidetic memory, based on my research and interviews, seems to be a bit of a catch-all for someone with an exemplary situational memory, and shouldn’t be confused with a photographic memory, which usually relates to things read/learned rather than experienced, or with hyperthymesia, which is considered a neurological disorder (though the two have areas of overlap).
As with all gifts and afflictions, eidetic memory impacts each person differently. Roscoe’s experience was based on a real person and is not meant to be reflective of every person with an eidetic memory.
If you have interest in this topic, check out articles on “super-recognizers” who work for law enforcement. I found the entire subject to be fascinating.
Thank you to my sensitivity readers for Roscoe (both of whom preferred to remain unnamed). I won’t ever forget you. ;-)
Other (important) Acknowledgements
Thank you to April, Shan, and Heather for their early reads.
Thank you also to my children for their patience. While I was wrapping up this book (writing the last quarter) I experienced an unexpected loss in my family. As such, finishing this book was delayed, which meant their mother’s presence in their lives was also delayed. Putting fi
ngers to the keyboard felt bizarre, and writing hasn’t been coming as easily as it had before, but it also helped . . . I think. So, thank you to my kids for being patient and supportive. Now we can go play in the pool and would you please stop teasing your sister.
Thanks for reading,
Penny Reid
About the Author
Penny Reid lives in Seattle, Washington with her husband, three kids, and an inordinate amount of yarn. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books.
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Read on for:
Penny Reid Book List (current and planned publications)
Other books by Penny Reid
Knitting in the City Series
(Contemporary Romantic Comedy)
Neanderthal Seeks Human: A Smart Romance (#1)
Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (#1.5)
Friends without Benefits: An Unrequited Romance (#2)
Love Hacked: A Reluctant Romance (#3)
Beauty and the Mustache: A Philosophical Romance (#4)
Ninja at First Sight (#4.75)
Happily Ever Ninja: A Married Romance (#5)
Dating-ish: A Humanoid Romance (#6)
Marriage of Inconvenience: (#7)
Winston Brothers Series
(Contemporary Romantic Comedy, spinoff of Beauty and the Mustache)
Beauty and the Mustache (#1)
Truth or Beard (#2)
Grin and Beard It (#3)
Beard Science (#4)
Beard in Mind (#5)
Dr. Strange Beard (#6)
Beard with Me (#6.5, coming 2019)
Beard Necessities (#7, coming 2019)
Hypothesis Series
(New Adult Romantic Comedy)
Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION, HEAT, and CAPTURE (#1)
Laws of Physics: MOTION, SPACE, and TIME (#2, coming 2018)
Fundamentals of Biology: STRUCTURE, EVOLUTION, and GROWTH (#3, coming 2019)
Irish Players (Rugby) Series – by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid
(Contemporary Sports Romance)
The Hooker and the Hermit (#1)
The Pixie and the Player (#2)
The Cad and the Co-ed (#3)
The Varlet and the Voyeur (#4)
Dear Professor Series
(New Adult Romantic Comedy)
Kissing Tolstoy (#1)
Kissing Galileo (#2, coming 2019)