She stopped in her tracks and twisted.
“You’re invited to the celebration.”
A sliver of warmth threaded through her. “Are the other girls going?”
“No. We can’t have distractions.”
That was code for her sisters-in-law were safer at home.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m surprised you’ll let me come.”
He grunted. “You’re part of the team. Besides, no one is getting through all of us.”
With her mind whirling, she returned to her truck and gathered the boxes into her arms. With them stacked high, she rested her chin on top to steady them and used her backside to push through the front door of the lodge.
A couple vets rounded the corner on the way to the rec room and stopped when they saw her. “Can I help you with those boxes, Miss Willow?” one asked.
“No, but thank you, Tray.” She threw him a smile and continued toward part of the lodge that was off-limits to her…until today.
The private rooms spanned the entire wing, two stories high. When her brother Oaks worked with the architect, he made sure they could accommodate forty residents. Currently, they were at max capacity, something that weighed on Willow. The thought of turning away anyone in need made her heart ache.
Since it fell on her to assign the rooms to residents, she already knew which room was Decker’s. End of the hall on the right. View of the south field—her favorite.
Juggling the boxes, she managed to knock on the door.
Only seconds passed before he swung it open.
She stopped breathing.
Oh god. Decker was fresh out of the shower. Wet hair. Shirtless. Jeans low on his hips.
His muscled chest dewy with moisture.
Her mouth dried out, and she forgot the English language as they stared at each other.
“Willow.”
“I brought…”
A present. Me.
“Your gear,” she said instead.
Warm brown eyes panned her face. Lingered on her lips.
Her insides clutched at his scorching appraisal. She only had to reach out to stroke that steel-hard chest, to brush her fingertips through the short sprigs of hair there.
“Let me take these.” He slipped his capable hands under the bottom box and then the weight left her arms. He didn’t move, and neither did she.
“Come in.” His low rumble felt like a physical caress, sliding down her spine and pooling low in her belly.
She followed him into his room, hyperaware of how his jeans hung perfectly on his lean hips. “I’ve been looking for you.”
When he set the boxes on his bed and turned back to face her, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. His eyes had gone dark as they swept over her face and stayed on her mouth.
She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip and he made a noise deep in his throat.
Unable to keep any distance between them, she stepped close. “Who changed the bandage on your wound?”
