Back in the truck, sitting right there next to him, on their way to his home, Grace was ever so thankful for the resumption of her G&G Spotify playlist. Since she curated it, the songs helped to soothe some of the nerves that just came naturally to the proximity of this man.

‘She may have built this playlist’, Gibby thinks to himself, ‘but we’re in every song. I wonder if she knows this?’ Of course she knows, as is confirmed by the opening chords of The Grateful Dead’s Sugar Magnolia. He just can’t help but to burst into laughter at the universe bringing this song at this moment.

“What? What’s so funny?”, Grace asks from across the console. “Does my song choice amuse you?”, she asks playfully. She knows he’s a fan of the Dead, and this is simply her favorite by them.

“You’ll see shortly.”, is Gibby’s only response as he pulls himself together to enjoy the rest of the song and the woman next to him who, as a girl, accompanied him to one of the very last original Dead shows. It didn’t mean everything to him at the time, but it means a hell of a lot at the moment.

Just when he thinks she can do no wrong, yet another country song comes up & he gives her the side-eye at the words, “pour a little sugar in her dixie cup”. Gibby didn’t get to see Grace’s reaction as he makes the gentle turn off of the road and begins the journey up the long driveway to his house. But he felt it.

Simultaneously with the country crooner’s “Oh my god, this is my song…” Grace’s left hand reaches across the divide and latches straight onto Gibby’s right thigh. Gibby wonders if this is a reaction to the song, to the first glimpse she’s getting of his humble abode, or Grace’s way of saying, ‘Don’t give me the side-eye, pay attention!’

Grace knows it’s all three of those things as the song continues to play and they pull up adjacent to the front porch. Neither makes a move other than to keep listening, eyes intently on one another. It’s just then Grace is inspired. She flings open the passenger door, twists the volume button nearly all the way up, and hops out, making her way to stand and spin in front of the truck.

All Gibby can do is join her. His body and mind and heart are propelled out of his side of the truck, leaving both doors open like wings, the better to accompany this first formal slow dance. They’ve been dancing together for years, just not this closely.

Their faces are now mere inches from each other as he holds her close. So close they can feel each other breathing as their lips do that delicious dance of anticipation. Knowing full well the gratification of the kiss that is to come, but delaying that gratification for as long as their heart’s can take it.

Who finally closes the gap? Who cares, as our couple let’s the world spin around them, the night and the song envelope them. It’s all they’ve been thinking about since before they laid eyes on each other hours ago. Let’s let them enjoy the hell out of it.

“Play it again, play it again, play it again!”, Grace sings up at the stars, head thrown back, arms flung wide out to her sides. They continue to spin slowly because Gibby’s got her. He always has.

The end of the song inevitably arrives and it’s time to lead Grace up the stairs. Her luggage is all but forgotten as he rushes to turn off the truck and close the doors. She’ll wait patiently for him. She always has.

Gibby opens the door and let’s Grace through and just as she steps in, they’re both greeted by the bounding, boundless energy only a Labrador Retriever can bring.

“Maaaags!”, Grace calls out as the dog runs closer. Miss Mags has never met a stranger.

“That’s Sugar Magnolia, the wonder rescue.”, is Gibby’s half-smirking, half heart in his eyes reply.

“Oh, well, your daddy has the best taste in names, doesn’t he?”, Grace says, turning on the only meant for pupper voice. She then drops to the floor right there in the entry hallway, her twirly dress pooling around her like a parachute. All the better to administer kisses and scratches as she continues her greeting. “He really has the best taste in girls. You’re soooo beautiful, aren’t you?” “Are you the most beautiful girl in the whole world?!”

“Not the most beautiful.” is Gibby’s simple, yet pointed reply. At this, Grace looks up and as their eyes meet something changes. Intensifies. No further words are exchanged as Gibby holds out his hand for Grace to take, helps her up off the floor, and leads them both through the house, straight to the primary bedroom.

They’re barely through the threshold and Gibby shuts the door behind them. Partially to shut out the ever-enthusiastic fur child, but also to serve as a backstop for the only girl that matters to him at this moment.

“I can’t take it anymore. I don’t understand how you so effortlessly make me crazy. But you do.” Gibby’s mouth is right there in Grace’s breath again, pinning her against the door with the proximity of his body and his words. He can’t get close enough for Grace.

She has no words, no reply. Her only answer is to bridge the gap with her mouth. Where the kiss in the headlights was sweet and nearly cautious, this one throws all caution to the wind. Grace wants Gibby too, has always wanted him, and this is finally a way to show him outside of words.

Their hands are everywhere all at once. Grace lifts her right leg, hooking it around him as his left hand has slid up her thigh, around her hip to cup her backside. She sighs as they continue to explore and just then Gibby drops to his knees, never letting her go. He’d never let her go again, they just didn’t know this yet.

Skirt bunched, right knee resting on his shoulder, Gibby places small kisses up Grace’s thigh, trying to cover every inch as the smell of her draws him in closer and closer. Grace knows exactly what’s about to happen and yet is fully unprepared.

The onslaught of lips, tongue, teeth, hands, that pull her in is very nearly too much to bear. She lets him lick, flick, kiss, suck at every sensitive ridge and fold and grouping of nerve endings until her head falls back for the second time that night. As she looks back down, still riding the waves cascading through her, Gibby looks up, worshiping the woman Grace has become.

“I thought I was getting a tour!” Grace jokes, trying to recover herself, knowing this is a futile attempt.

This time, Grace takes his hand and lifts him off the floor. He then scoops her up into his arms and carries her the few feet to his bed. “Tour starts here.” is Gibby’s final reply as he lays them both down gently.