She stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching me like she wasn’t sure if I’d lost my mind or if she should be impressed.
“Really?” she said finally. “A barn picnic?” My heart sank a little for a second before she added, “You’re surprising me, Easton Holt, in all the very best ways.” She moved a little closer and took a seat on one of the bales, opening one of the Styrofoam containers and releasing the delicious smell of barbecue. She moaned and closed her eyes, and it was all I could do to stay still across from her as the sound shot straight to my dick.
“Well, it’s private and warm. You needed to eat,” I ground out.
The barn was cozy. I’d always liked the feeling I got when I came in here. Once upon a time, the Holt farm had run cattle, but that was decades ago, before we came along. When we were kids, Levi and Maggie had kept animals, but only the usual things. The most exotic things they’d had were some horses that we’d fought over like the wild things we were. When I’d first arrived at the Holt, I’d thought all the animals were cool until I’d realized that they had to be fed at the crack ass of dawn and they pooped a ton.
“So, this is your big plan to impress me? Hay and pulled pork?” The sass was back in the tilt of her head.
I tore a piece of cornbread and set it on the napkin between us. “Careful, sugar. You keep that attitude, and I won’t share the cornbread.”
Her laughter filled the rafters, rich and full of surprise. She set her bag down and dropped onto the blanket, legs tucked under her. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ruthless,” I said again, the word that had already earned me that little eye roll I liked too much. “When I want something.”
She picked up her fork, smirking as she took a bite of pulled pork. The sauce clung to her lip, and before she wiped it away, she caught me watching. Heat flickered there, sharp and undeniable, before she laughed it off, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said softly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t.”
I let my gaze linger, slow and steady. “Maybe I am thinking all sorts of things. I plan on doing them too.”
Her fork stilled, breath catching just enough that I knew she felt it too. But then she leaned back against the hay bale, lips curving. “Barn picnics and bossy. You’re full of surprises, Holt.”
“Stick around. You’ll get all sorts of good surprises.”
Silence stretched, comfortable and charged. Rain started to pitter-patter on the roof steadily, the food warm between us, her laughter still echoing in my chest. For the first time all day, her shoulders had eased, her eyes brighter.
“Not exactly candlelight and fine china,” I said, tugging the lid off my brisket platter. “But I hear good barbecue doesn’t need silverware.”
She smirked, and it caused something to tighten low inmy gut. “When you asked me to dinner, I wasn’t expecting you to be angling for takeout and a barn. But I gotta say, I like your style.”
From anyone else, I might have thought it was a jab, but the way she was looking at me, I knew it wasn’t. This was Lila at her sexiest, and it made me fall a little deeper knowing that she didn’t mind camping out with me in this old barn.
“Tables are overrated,” I countered. “Besides, this barn is ours for tonight. No one’s going to interrupt.”
Lila’s eyes flicked up at that last line, and the tension seemed to rise a notch at the thought that we were alone.
We ate slowly, fingers brushing as she reached for cornbread, her laughter spilling when I accused her of stealing the best piece. Every small touch lingered, stretched, as though the barn itself held its breath. When she leaned back against the hay bale, legs crossed, the loose tendrils of her hair brushed her cheek, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and tuck them behind her ear.
“Not terrible,” she admitted, licking sauce from her thumb. The sight nearly undid me. I loved watching her eat. It was definitely a turn-on for me. I wouldn’t mind that tongue of hers somewhere else.
“High praise,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.
She tilted her head, studying me with that sharp, unflinching look she had when she caught me off guard. “You don’t do this, do you? Picnics in barns. Watching a woman lick barbecue sauce off her fingers like it’s going to kill you.”
“No,” I said, truth rolling out bare and unvarnished. “I don’t. I wasn’t joking when I said I don’t do relationships. Dates. Ever,” I answered solemnly.
The silence stretched again, charged and humming. We’d cleared away the food and set out the blanket so we could sit beside each other to enjoy the banana pudding cups we’d gotten. They didn’t really go with the beer, but she leaned on her elbow while she watched me under her lashes, spooning up dessert into her mouth, and I was captivated.
“Can you tell me why?” she asked.
“Why I haven’t been in relationships?” She nodded, and my hand moved instinctively before thought caught up, brushing that stray lock of hair back. Her skin was warm under my knuckles, soft. It was already becoming one of my favorite things. “My life before the Holts was pretty shit. My dad took off when I was little. I know you understand that.” I swallowed hard.
People had often asked me about my childhood. Lila wasn’t asking specifically about that. She wanted the ‘why’, which was an even bigger question. The thing about Lila, and I thought one of the things that drew me to her, was how she understood parents taking off on you. She got that.
