She dropped her toy.
“That’s Frank,” Davis said, nodding toward the stuffed hot dog.
I laughed as Violet’s big pink tongue swept out, gently scooping the cube away.
“How are things going with the garden?” Davis asked. “Any more bunny problems?”
I frowned. “There are babies, and I think I’m providing the family’s main food source. Don’t laugh,” I complained, attempting to give him the stink eye for his chortle. “They’re too cute to chase away, and I can’t let them go hungry.”
“So you’re feeding them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Did you know bunny babies are sometimes called kittens? And a group of rabbits is called a fluffle?” My lips turned down, and I clutched my palms against my chest. “It’s too cute. I have to feed them.”
Davis snorted and wrapped big palms around bent knees. “My mom kept a garden at the manor.”
I stilled, thinking of the place I’d planted my vegetables. “It was where mine is now, wasn’t it?”
He nodded slowly. “She fed the local wildlife too.”
My heart swelled, and I told it to pipe down. “I’m thinking of starting an herbarium.”
“A what?”
“It’s a collection of pressed flowers, plants, and leaves. Emily Dickinson was big on it.” Considering the amount of time I’d spent outside walking and exploring local parks the last few days, creating an herbarium seemed more achievable and realistic than any of my previous goals.
Davis stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at the ankles. “She was also a big reader and writer. Have you tried that?”
I shot him my most infinitely bland expression.
“Woof.”
I gave Violet another piece of cheese and a head scratch.
Davis watched me. “Of course you’ve already thought of that. So, what do you write about?”
I plucked the journal from the blanket and stuffed it into my bag. “Nothing.”My every thought, feeling, and emotion. My very unhelpful attraction to you.
He leaned back, planting his elbows on the blanket—unusually fidgety, it seemed. “The other night ...,” he began, then drifted off. “I overstepped.”
I stared, wondering why he felt that way and why he kept bringing it up. I hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in a very long time, and I’d never made the first move. But I did, and he’d reciprocated. While the moment had lasted, I’d been happy.
“I don’t normally kiss women I’ve only seen twice, or tenants of the manor,” he said, glancing briefly away as he spoke. “Your presence here has caught me off guard, I think.” He gave his head a little shake. “You aren’t at all what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I asked, baffled. “Never mind.” I exhaled sharply, putting the conversation away and pulling my knees to my chest. “Well, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.” No need to talk about it again. Ever.
Silence lingered between us, companionable yet charged, until all I could think about was kissing him.
His hand drifted closer to mine on the blanket. For a moment, I thought he might twine our fingers or cover my palm with his. Instead, his attention shifted to the soft fleece. “Is this from the Nifty Knitter on Pleasant Street?”
“Yes.” I’d purchased the stadium blanket straight from the shop’s window, instantly in love with the checkered pattern and desperate to stop freezing at night.
“For picnics and park days? Or because you’re still struggling with the fireplace?”
I considered lying, but sighed and went with the truth. “I can make a decent fire, but it gets incredibly cold upstairs at night, and I don’t want to sleep in the sitting room.” I’d been thinking about buying a space heater.
For a moment, Davis appeared torn. “I’ll come by tonight,” he said.
“That’s not necessary.” Hope sparked in my chest, unbidden. I immediately shut it down.
