by Amanda Ashby
Outside, he took a shot of a huge old oak tree with his phone. If Doug really wasn’t coming back to his cottage, he might like some final photos. He finished up and went into the bedroom to move a small dresser. It was heavier than it appeared, and sweat beaded on his brow as his tired muscles strained.
Violet barked.
“Funny, is it?” He walked through the now-empty living room, and the dresser door swung open. Awkwardly, he tried to use one hand to shut it, but it didn’t work.
Something was jammed in there. Setting it back down, he reached in and pulled out an envelope, crisp with age. The paper was smooth against his fingertips, and on the front, in flowing cursive, was written, To My Dearest Love.
A love letter? He peered back into the drawer and pulled out a whole bundle of them. Some addressed the same way, and others in a messier pen that simply said, My Girl.
They weren’t his to read. But if they were love letters between Doug and Mary, they needed to be saved for when he was better.
He added them to the box of other things he thought Doug would want. Two golden wedding bands tied together with a piece of twine. A trophy for winning a bowling tournament in 1975. An ancient teddy bear. And a folder of pressed flowers, with the names of each one, all in the same beautiful flowing cursive, which he concluded belonged to Doug’s much-missed wife, Mary.
Energy hummed through him, flooding him like an incoming tide.
The same guy who’d collected eight hundred and fifty milk cartons had a quiet, gentle love story within the walls of the rundown cottage. Nothing like the blinding romances from the movies.
Or the stuff I write.
There was something to be learned from both Doug and Carl, but he had no idea what. Violet walked behind him, her eyes still narrowed in suspicion as he carried the dresser out.
“You have trust issues,” he informed her as she raced around the corner of the barn and sniffed a stick. “Is this a trick? I’ve been told on good authority you believe stick throwing is silly. It is beneath you. You only go on walks for an emotionally fulfilling experience.”
She raced over to an ancient rose bush in the middle of the overgrown garden. Her nose twitched, and she sniffed it. He raised a brow.
“Smell? Is that what this is about?”
Unsurprisingly, the dog didn’t answer, but if she wanted to sniff things, she was in the right place. He unearthed an old wheelbarrow.
“What about this? Want to smell it?”
She twitched her nose, then looked over to an old bench by a falling-down fence.
“Come on then.” He jogged toward it, Violet hard on his heels. She made a little noise as she snuffled at the wood, then darted to a tree and did the same thing.
Did she want him to follow?
Violet barked, and Adam headed toward some wild foxgloves and dug up the earth with the end of his foot. If the dog wanted to play sniff, who was he to argue?
Chapter Twelve
“This feeling? It only comes around once in a blue moon. So, you either grab it or you mess it up. Your call.” Blue Moon
It was six by the time Laney got home and climbed out of her car. Midway through the final consultation, the bride had decided to rethink her color scheme, which would have put an end to the elaborate hanging installation she’d commissioned. It had almost led to a fight with her fiancé until Laney and the wedding planner had managed to get them back in agreement.
Love won, which meant she’d return there on Saturday morning with Pete to spend the day building it for the late-afternoon reception.
Hopefully, it would take her mind off the news that she’d been outbid on Tucker’s farm. Ever since she’d had the idea, she’d been picturing her future. Rising early each morning to tend and pick flowers before spending the days creating. Being independent. Strong. Secure.
And now it’s not going to happen.
Erika promised there’d be other properties, but Laney had lived in the area for long enough to know they didn’t come up very often. Not in her price range. Don’t go there. It would be okay. She’d figure out her future.
She gathered up the armful of heavenly lupines she’d foraged on her way home and walked into the courtyard. A fiery blaze of pinks and reds spread out across the sky, and the low hum of cicadas filled the air. She put the wildflowers on the table and fished around for her keys just as the gate in the side fence opened.
Adam.
His hair was damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. He was freshly shaved, and the stark lines of his hard jawline set her pulse to rumbling.
“Big day?” His eyes swept over her.
“You have no idea,” she said, clenching her hands to stop herself from doing anything foolish. “How did it go?”
“See for yourself.” He nodded for her to join him in the adjacent courtyard. Bad idea. But even as the words echoed through her mind, she followed him.
The faint scent of cedar and soap diffused in the air. Why did he have to smell of outside? Wasn’t that cheating?
Her skin tingled. A beer and an upended book sat on the table, and on the ground lay an expensive-looking suitcase. A gray sweater lined it, with Violet curled up in a ball, deep asleep.
“Hey, girl,” Laney cooed, but instead of the dog waking up alert and ready for a pat, Violet’s ear twitched, and she opened a large, dark eye before shutting it again and resuming her nap. Laney turned to him. “What did you do to my dog?”
“We found some common ground.”
“Not with sticks, I hope?”
“No. We went sniffing,” he said, then groaned as she tried to stifle a giggle. “Correction, Violet went sniffing. I just tagged along. She really likes hay bales. And tree trunks. I like to think she’s now emotionally fulfilled.”
“She really had fun?”
“She only barked at me four times.” On cue, Violet opened an eye and barked at him before going back to sleep. “We’re almost BFFs. I took a video. Want to see?”
“A video of Violet sniffing?” she said, trying not to be moved by the fact he’d gone to so much trouble for her.
“Sure. Make it sound weird, why don’t you?” he deadpanned as he fished a phone from his jeans pocket. “Here’s proof.”
His arm brushed hers as he held up the screen. A nuclear charge raced through her body. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. If she leaned into him, her head would be pressed against his chest. She couldn’t remember why it would be a bad thing.
The clip started, and Violet raced into view. Her entire body trembled with excitement as she buried her nose into the base of an old feeding trough. Her tail wagged. In the background, Adam laughed, urging Violet on in an encouraging voice. Every now and then, Violet glanced up at the screen, huge eyes wide with joy.
Oh hell.
My dog likes him.
Up until this point, Violet had been Laney’s voice of reason. Was it an omen her dog had turned Team Adam?
Yes, her itch answered.
“She definitely seems happy,” she said, not sure how to answer him. Or look at him.
“I’ve had worse dates.” He walked back to the table and picked up a beer. “Want one?”
No.
The more time they spent together, the harder it was to ignore the connection. It’s just physical. She pushed away the raw emotion in his voice when he’d told her about his career and his failed marriage. Not to mention the release of being able to confess how she felt about his book. The warmth of waking up in the morning and thinking about someone without wanting to cry.
It doesn’t mean anything.
“Sure,” she said as the blazing sky flooded the courtyard in a magical glow. Everywhere around her, it was spring. The flowers knew it; the bees knew it. I definitely know it.
His eyes twinkled in amusement as he twisted the t
op off the beer and passed it over. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Beads of moisture clung to the cool bottle. She wanted to hold it up to her burning face. This was getting out of control. She needed…something…from someone.
Adam studied her, eyes the color of cornflowers. Did he know what she was thinking? Probably. After all, there wasn’t much he didn’t know about her.
About her body.
It didn’t help that, against all her valid arguments, she’d put on the apricot silk panties and bra. They caressed her skin, and she squirmed in her chair. She took a deep gulp of beer. It burned her throat, and she coughed.
“Sorry you missed out on the farm. It sucks not getting what you want,” he said, his voice low with a hint of regret in it. Was he talking about the family his ex-wife was now starting with his brother? The dream he’d built a whole career on?
Were they both missing out on things?
We could miss out together. Naked.
Heat and longing burned through her, and she shuddered. She knew him. He knew her. They’d already had sex. Lots and lots of really great sex. She had an itch that he knew how to scratch.
Is that why her body was reacting like this? Because of the past?
Her throat tightened. No.
It couldn’t begin to explain the coiled heat pounding inside her. Whatever they’d once shared was different to this. It had been over since he published the book. This was new. And somehow stronger.
“Is something bothering you? You look a little—”
Turned on?
Tempted?
Teetering on the edge of making a bad decision?
“Just a long day.” She put the beer bottle down and turned away from the corded muscles in his arms, forcing herself not to imagine them dragging her onto his lap, his mouth hot on hers. Teeth grazing her skin. Hell.
It was impossible to order her thoughts with him so close. She needed to step out of his orbit. She walked over to the large wine barrels she’d helped Paige plant a couple of months ago and automatically tugged at a weed. The damp soil helped clear her head.
He leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees as he studied the bottle in his hands. Desire hummed in her veins. Even looking at his fingers seemed to do wicked things to her.
“Sorry I made things weird between us. I meant what I said. You don’t have to worry about me pouncing on you. Friendship should always come first.”
“Is this coming from Adam or Doctor Josh?” she said, trying to joke, but her voice came out as a croak as she plunged her fingers further into the rich, earthy soil.
“Those guys are clueless. I read it on a fortune cookie,” he said, his eyes crinkling.
“Liar.”
“I need to work on my game.” He finally joined her, stopping inches away. He lifted her fingers out of the wine barrel, intense eyes sweeping her face. “What’s going on? You seem on edge.”
His touch seared her skin, and hammering need ran through her body. This. She had always tried to keep busy. Work hard, go out, spend time with her friends. Her family. But there had always been something missing.
This had been missing.
She didn’t move, and surprise flickered in his eyes.
“Oh.” He breathed, as if he could read all the things in her mind that she couldn’t say out loud. “Oh.”
“Would it be bad?” she whispered, hardly daring to raise her voice. If she spoke too loudly, her sensible side might start running interference. Threads bounced between them, as if trying to stitch them closer together. “I keep trying things, but nothing’s worked.”
“What do you mean?”
“This itch.” She took a shuddering breath. “Dating didn’t work. T-trying to buy a flower farm didn’t work. Everything’s hard.”
Why am I speaking?
Why were words coming out of her mouth?
But she knew the answer. Because she was sick of not doing what she wanted. Of not feeling things that were there. Tomorrow, she could go back to being sweet Laney George. But right now she didn’t want to be that person.
And Adam had proven he had changed. Would it really be so bad?
“It won’t always be like that.”
“You said you wanted to kiss me. Did you mean it?” Her voice was husky.
Endless silence stretched between them as his eyes searched her face.
“Yes.”
Then he tilted his head. He said he wouldn’t push it. She would have to make the first move. She answered him by standing up on her toes and brushing her lips against his. And there it was. The wild spark that had always been there. Electric. All-consuming. Fourth of July. Her mouth hungrily pressed against him, arms sliding around her waist.
He finally broke the kiss.
“W-what’s wrong?” she croaked, need pulsing through her.
“Nothing.” He cupped her face, his mouth close to hers, breath caressing her skin. “I want this. I’m just not sure what this is.”
“Does it have to be anything? We’ve done it before,” she said, her mouth finding his again. He groaned, and his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her close. Sweet goodness. His lips found her neck, and he planted a trail of hot kisses along it, his breath burning into her. She couldn’t tell if her feet were still touching the ground. Then he broke the kiss again, his chest heaving against hers.
“And look what a mess I made of it.”
“We’re not those people anymore,” she said, the scent of his skin thundering through her like a primal call. “Just one night with no strings. The two of us. It doesn’t feel wrong. This is what I want.”
“One night?”
“Yes. Then we can go back to the way we were.”
This time, he didn’t answer.
He dragged her against his chest, and his mouth crashed into hers. The tiny thread of sanity tethering her to the world broke as he carried her into the empty bookstore and up the stairs to his apartment, his mouth never leaving hers. Why oh why had she been scared of this? Then they reached his bedroom, and she was entirely lost.
If Laney’s itch could smoke, it would be lighting a match about now. She stretched out her legs, bathing in the afterglow of Adam’s touch. And his hot, hot kisses. Like a banked-up fire, she was still burning. All from one gloriously perfect night with the man lying next to her.
The very naked man.
A crack in the curtains let in the dull glow of morning. It was probably only five. The sheets were soft, and her limbs were liquid. There was no sign of Violet, who’d spent the night in the suitcase in the other room.
She should get out of bed. Check her dog. Go home before anyone could see her.
She definitely shouldn’t reach out and trace her finger along the curve of his back. She did it anyway. His warm skin hid the faint outline of muscles. He shifted and rolled around to face her.
“Hey.” He opened his eyes. Pale blue today. The tightness around his jaw was gone, and his lips were parted. Kissable.
“Hey.” She slipped farther under the sheets so they were eye level. His hand claimed hers.
“You’re still here.”
“You thought I’d snuck home?”
“It did cross my mind.”
“Mine, too,” she admitted. Would it be bad if she leaned in to kiss him? They were so close. And while it wasn’t technically night anymore, it wasn’t quite daytime. It was a gray area. “I need to go soon. Before there are too many people around.”
“Not yet,” he said simply, fingers tightening around hers.
“Not yet,” she repeated, drinking in his face as the sheet cocooned them.
“You freaking out? Regretting it? Wanting your money back?”
She reluctantly laughed. “I didn’t realize you came with a guarantee.”
�
�I like to please.”
He sure did.
Her itch let out a happy sigh.
“I’m not regretting it, but it’s…been a while.”
“Since you dated,” he said, and when she didn’t answer, his eyebrows shot up. “Oh. You mean sex. Five years?”
Heat hit her cheeks…and other places. “Longer. Once Simon got sick…”
“Hell.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess that’s why last night, I went a little bit out of control.”
“Control is overrated,” he said, his breath brushing her skin. Had he moved closer? “It’s been a while for me, too.”
“A good-looking, famous author? I can only imagine how many women run away screaming at the hideous sight of you.”
She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t.
“But what are they there for? The book I wrote or my amazing skills in teaching a dog to sniff haystacks? Not as alluring as you might think.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m not interested in the book you wrote.”
This time, he did laugh. “See, we’re at the joking place now.”
“Don’t push it,” she warned as his nosed pressed up to hers. He had moved closer. Her skin prickled. “We promised…”
“About that. I want to renegotiate. I wasn’t in a fit state to sign a contract.”
“What do you mean?” Her heart pounded as his hand slid up her leg, nails grazing her skin. Hot thrills went through her.
“One night is a stupid amount. Why can’t we keep doing this? We’re clearly good at it.” Desire clouded in his eyes, and her heart pounded against her ribs. His fingers traced slow, languid patterns around her hips. He didn’t play fair.
“Y-you mean a fling?”
“I mean this. You. Me. Your dog close by, but not too close. I…I like this, Laney.”
Her breath quickened. This wasn’t part of the plan.
But how bad would it be?
His time in St. Clair was almost up. Only one month, and he’d be gone. One month, and she’d go back to her regular, scheduled programming. And until then she could feel. She took in a shuddering breath and brushed her mouth against his. Fireworks exploded.