Pain scored across my knees and left hand as I shook my head, discombobulated.
A snuffling sound in my ear brought my head up to the side, and my nose met the cold wet one of the Dane. His head bent toward me as he stared inquisitively into my eyes, and I realized I still had a tight grip on his collar.
“Jesus Christ, Shadow, look what you’ve done.” A deep male voice sounded near. “Are you okay?”
Slumping to my side, I turned toward the voice I deduced was addressing me, my head falling back as I looked up.
Blinking against the bright sky, I wondered for a moment if the car had hit me, killed me, and now I was in heaven.
Because the most beautiful man I’d ever seen was staring down at me.
Four
I blinked rapidly, thinking the image before me would disappear, a mirage from the fall . . . but it didn’t.
The man lowered to his haunches in front of me, reaching out to get a hold of the dog without removing his gaze from mine. His warm dark brown eyes wandered over my face, his expression seeming to waver between awe and concern. “Are you okay?” he repeated.
The question drew my attention to his mouth. A somewhat scruffy beard surrounded compelling lips, the bottom full in comparison to the top. My mother would call it a Harrison Ford mouth. I’d call it a Matt Davis mouth.
Oh my God, how long had I been staring at his mouth?
“We need to get you off this road.” He nodded encouragingly. “Are you okay to move? Or is my dog in danger of being sued?” That devastating mouth of his curled at the corners to let me know he was teasing.
Realizing I was staring at him like a moron, I glanced back at his dog. “I can move.”
“Are you hurt?” The stranger stood, pulling the Great Dane into his side with one hand, while he held out the other to me.
Still a little dazed, I reached for the proffered hand. Strong fingers curled around mine, and as he pulled me gently to my feet, his calloused palm rubbed against my softer one. A shiver skated down my spine, and I felt a little breathless. On my feet, I was startled to realize the man was a good few inches taller than me, the powerful breadth of his shoulders making his height seem even more substantial.
He grinned at me, a flash of white teeth, before he said, “We could stay here but Shadow might have to rescue us next. He’s acting like a wild thing, so I’m not sure he’s a good bet as a hero today. Unlike some people.”
I realized he had an accent like Milly. Although they both sounded a lot like Penny, the defining character of their accent—the “yuh” instead of “you,” the dropped g’s, and the abrupt final syllables—was less pronounced and easier to understand than Penny’s.
“Shadow, heel,” the man said, his tone sharp with demand. Then he tugged on my hand and led me across the road, with Shadow following closely.
Once on the sidewalk, I opened my mouth to thank the man, when a new voice stopped me. “Roane, is she okay?”
The man’s gaze moved beyond me, and I turned to see Milly from The Anchor standing at the top of the hill, her eyebrows knitted in concern. A group of people at her back were watching curiously.
“Everything’s fine, Milly,” the man called up to her.
She scowled at him. “What the bloody hell has gotten into Shadow?”
I felt a squeeze on my hand and looked down to see he was still holding it as he responded, “He’s only two and a half, Milly. Sometimes he regresses to puppy.”
She harrumphed at that. “You all right, Evie, lass?”
Grateful for her concern but feeling fine, I waved it away. “I’m good, thanks.”
With that, Milly nodded and turned back toward her pub.
“Evie, is it?”
My attention lowered to the hand the man had not yet released, before returning to his eyes. He seemed to study my every feature with open appreciation.
I shivered again.
“Did the fall affect your vocal cords? Or do you just not want me to know your name?”
“Evangeline Starling,” I blurted out, still feeling disoriented. “But everyone calls me Evie.”
His mouth spread into a wide smile, and his grip on my hand tightened as he gave it a little shake. “I’m Roane Robson. It’s nice to meet you, Evie Starling.”
Flustered by Roane’s intense regard, I pulled my hand out of his and took in the rest of him. Thick dark hair with a slight curl to it ruffled in the breeze coming up off the sea. A worn, forest-green cable-knit sweater covered his broad shoulders, a loose thread dangling from the hem. Dark-wash denim jeans, covered in mud splatters, were tucked into knee-high Wellington boots. His skin was olive toned, and considering it was May in England and still somewhat cool, he was naturally tan, or years of laboring out in the sun had given him a permanent tan.
Shadow was sitting at attention by his side, the dog’s head level with Roane’s waist. Roane rubbed the top of it absentmindedly. He seemed to understand the question in my eyes. “I’m the local farmer hereabouts.”
Now his clothing made sense.
Not that I minded his rugged appearance.
He was altogether the most masculine specimen I had ever come across. Even his voice was deep and rumbling. I felt that voice in places I had no business feeling it.
I did not come here to meet a gorgeous farmer. Even if he was looking at me as though he’d like to gobble me up. Seriously, his expression was so transparent and . . . awestruck.
A flush moved through me again. I was not a woman who inspired such open and blatant admiration. At least, I never had been.
“It was nice to meet you.” I looked down at the dog. “I’m glad he’s okay. He’s a beauty.”
“He’s my best pal and that arsehole tourist was too busy looking at his phone and not the road. He would have hit him if you hadn’t dragged him out of the middle of the street.” Roane stepped toward me, and my skin tingled with awareness. “Please tell me you’re not just visiting for one day. I’d love to buy you a drink in thanks.”
Curse my luck!
I swear off men. I book a trip to England to find myself.
Instead I find a sexy English farmer who looked at me like he wanted to kiss my feet in thanks and then strip me naked to thank me some more.
Was it genuine attraction, or was he just grateful I’d saved his dog?
“Um . . .” I cleared my throat as I attempted to shake off the ludicrous spell he seemed to have cast over me. Was this what instant lust felt like? “I’m renting the bookstore. From Penny Peterson.”
Roane frowned. “She’s still renting it out?”
Milly had asked the same thing. What was that about?
I opened my mouth to query this, when he continued. “For how long?”
“Four weeks. I just arrived last night.”
His eyebrows raised. “Four weeks?” Curiosity was evident in those twinkling eyes of his, and suddenly he grinned again. And it was wicked. It was the kind of grin that belonged on a womanizing playboy, not a farmer. “Then you can definitely join me for a drink tonight at The Anchor.”
Oh boy.
“I’m not sure I can.” Suddenly I wanted to run as far and as fast from this gorgeous man as I could. I leaned over to scratch Shadow behind the ears, gave the dog a smile and Roane a grimace. “I need to get back to the store. It was nice meeting you,” I repeated.
However, I’d barely made it three steps when Roane and Shadow fell into stride beside me.
I kept walking but shot him a “can I help you?” look.
“I really have to insist that you let me make reparations toward you on behalf of Shadow. He’d do it himself, but he’s shy around beautiful women.”
A huff of laughter fell from my lips at his flirtation. “That’s a shame. He’s very handsome.”
“I know, the bonny bastard is always
stealing female attention away from me.”
Chuckling, I shook my head at his nonsense, watching my footing as we strolled past the harbor, in case I took another tumble. When my attention returned to Roane, his eyes were trailing across my face, seeming to linger on my mouth before our gazes locked. Flabbergasted by the interest he did not hide, I stumbled, my foot hitting a crack in the sidewalk.
Roane grabbed my bicep to steady me and I groaned, feeling my cheeks warm. “You must think I’m a klutz.”
“You took a tumble saving my dog,” he reminded me as he gently led me across the street, checking at his side to make sure Shadow was following. “How does that make you a klutz?”
It wasn’t what was making me a klutz. It was his intensity and open attraction to me.
An attraction I reluctantly returned.
“You can let go of my arm,” I said, giving it a gentle pull.
His fingers flexed for a second before he released me. Shadow squeezed between our legs and started to trot in front of us. “Stay close,” Roane said, and Shadow’s ears twitched at the command.
“I don’t normally throw myself out in front of cars to save dogs,” I confessed, not wanting some idea that I was a champion of animals to give this guy the wrong impression of me. If he was feeling misguided hero worship, I wanted to nip it in the bud so I could go back to swearing off men. “Shadow is the spitting image of my dog Duke. I had him until he was nine years old and he . . . well, he came into my life as a puppy, just when I needed him. I was fifteen when he died.” That tight ache in my chest flared anytime I thought of Duke. I cleared my throat. “I saw Shadow shoot right past me, and for a second I could have sworn . . .”
“It was Duke,” Roane concluded, his deep voice gentle.
Avoiding his gaze, which I somehow knew would be just as soft as his tone, I nodded. “I’ve never had a dog since. Great Danes take up a lot of room, cost a lot to house and feed, and my mom didn’t want another one, especially with me going off to college. Then I moved to the city and I didn’t feel it was right to keep a dog when I worked all the time.” Why was I telling a stranger all of this?
“But you miss the company?” Roane asked.
Pulling the key to the store out of my pocket, I nodded. “I guess.”
We came to a stop outside the bookshop.
“Shadow, heel,” Roane called to the dog. Thankfully, Shadow heeded him this time and trotted back to sit at his side.
I reached out to pet him. “He’s so gorgeous,” I said, smiling as Shadow bussed into my touch. Thankfully, like Duke, his ears hadn’t been cropped and were floppy and silky and beautiful.
“Lucky bastard,” Roane muttered.
Surprised, I glanced up to see he was staring at Shadow with genuine envy.
I dropped my hand and stepped toward the store. “Well, thank you for seeing me to the store . . .”
“Wait.” Roane moved toward me, his expression eager. “Evie, I don’t make a habit of asking tourists out but I can’t help myself. You’re brave, you love animals. You’re stunning. I’m a mere mortal.” His chuckle had a slightly disbelieving tone to it, like he couldn’t understand himself in that moment. “So please have a drink with me tonight?”
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t extremely flattered by Roane Robson’s attention. Or that I didn’t very much want to know what it would feel like to have the most tempting mouth I’d ever seen on a guy in real life pressed against mine.
But I wasn’t here for a fling.
I was here to find myself.
I turned to him, deciding to be as forthright as Roane was being. “I’ve sworn off men. Not forever. But absolutely while I’m here. No men.”
Roane’s eyes rounded with surprise, and he reached up to scratch his cheek, the sound of fingernails against the bristles of his beard overly loud in the quiet morning.
And weirdly arousing.
After a few moments of contemplating me, he threw back his shoulders. “Have you sworn off friendships with men?”
Stupid disappointment rose in me, and invisible hands quickly moved to stuff that feeling back down, somewhere deep and dark inside me where I’d forget about its existence. “Friendship is good.”
He dipped his head to me, his lips curled at the corner in what seemed to be a perpetually teasing way of his. “Then have a drink with me tonight at The Anchor. Let me say thank you properly. And maybe you can tell me where you come from—why you came here for four weeks and swore off men.”
I shouldn’t.
I really, really shouldn’t.
But didn’t I come here to experience something different? A new place, new people, and maybe a new me?
Becoming friends with an English farmer was definitely a new experience. Who cared if he could grace the front cover of “The World’s Hottest Farmers” calendar? “Okay.” I smiled. “A drink. But I’m warning you, my story isn’t that interesting.”
Roane’s grin widened. “Somehow I doubt that.” He glanced down at his dog and then back to me, his expression somber. “In all seriousness . . . thank you, Evie.”
Realizing Shadow probably meant just as much to him as Duke had meant to me, I answered quietly, “You’re welcome, Roane.”
With that, he nodded and took a step back. “I need to return to the farm. I’ll see you tonight at eight o’clock.”
“I’ll see you then.”
As he and Shadow turned and strode back in the direction they’d come, I realized how breathless I’d been in Roane’s company and sucked in a lungful of air.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I muttered, watching them disappear.
“You met Roane then—”
“Argh!” I cried out in fright and turned to find Penny standing on the sidewalk, as if she’d appeared out of thin air.
Her lips twitched. “Sorry, pet, didn’t mean to scare you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not you. It’s . . . been an interesting morning.”
“Oh, aye, I heard about that from Milly. Saved Roane’s dog, did you?”
I frowned, glancing behind me and back to Penny. How could she have heard from Milly, who was in the opposite direction, and then appear at my back as if from nowhere? Had Milly called Penny immediately to tell her what had happened? Obviously.
Village life. News traveled fast.
She chuckled as if she sensed my bemusement, and gestured toward the store. “Open her up then. Let me show you the ropes.”
It was as I unlocked the door that I suddenly felt the stinging in my left palm and on my knees. Looking down, my jeans were covered in dust from the fall, and the left kneecap looked a little threadbare too. I must have hissed because Penny queried, “You all right, pet?”
“I’m fine. Probably have a skinned knee or two from the fall.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the flat. Would you like me to get it?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, thanks.”
She nodded, accepting this. “Okay, let’s get to work then.”
But before we could, there was a loud rap on the door, and we turned to see a man peering in at us. “You open, Penny?”
She frowned and hurried to open the door, letting the man in. He had graying dark hair and startling pale blue eyes, and he wore a brown lightweight coat with a white apron underneath it. “Did you leave the store?” Penny asked, sounding surprised.
“Young Matthew’s watching it.” The man threw me a flustered nod. I put him around the same age as Penny and wondered at their connection. Turning to her, he said, “Lella dropped the bomb on me this morning that she’s supposed to read Twelfth Night by tomorrow for homework. I’m really hoping you have a copy.”
“You’re in luck.” Penny hurried toward the shelves to the one marked poetry and scoured it for a few seconds before pulling out a thin paperback.
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The man seemed to sag in relief. “You’re a star, Pen. How much?”
“Take it.” Penny held it out to him. “My next steak and ale pie is free.”
He grinned, the smile transforming his glowering expression. With those unusual eyes of his, he was quite handsome. As if sensing my attention, he nodded to me. “New owner?”
Penny sighed and threw me a small smile. “New renter.” Seeing his eyebrows draw together, she shrugged. “I’ll explain later.”
“Right. Well, I best get back. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome, Jed. Remember that pie.”
“I’ll go one better,” he said, pulling the door open, “Cerys and I’ll have you round for tea, so you don’t have to cook it yourself.”
“I won’t say no to that.”
After the door closed, Penny wandered back to me and explained, “Jed’s the butcher. Sad tale.” Her eyes darkened. “He and Cerys, his wife, lost their daughter in a car crash two years go. Cerys was in the car. She’s in a wheelchair now. Their daughter left behind her daughter Arabella. Everyone calls her Lella, a nickname from a young neighbor’s son that just kind of stuck.” She leaned against the counter. “Poor couple lost their bairn, Cerys her mobility, and gained full guardianship of their granddaughter all at the same time. Lella just turned thirteen. Raising a teenage girl again. It’s not easy.”
My heart hurt for the butcher and his wife. “That’s awful, Penny.”
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s a good community here. When my Arthur died, they rallied around me, like we rallied around Jed, Cerys, and Lella.”
Realizing her words meant she was widowed, I offered, “I’m so sorry.”
“It was four years ago now. Sometimes . . .” Her gaze drifted off into the distance, to someplace no one else could get to. “Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Other times like . . . like it was another lifetime.”
A silence I didn’t know how to break without being disrespectful fell between us. Finally, I said, “You and Jed seem close.”
“Cerys and I have been friends since Arthur and I moved here. The four of us were good friends for years.” Seeing my somber expression, Penny suddenly clapped her hands together. “Let’s get on then. You’ve got a bookstore to run.”
Much Ado About You Page 4