“Whenever you’ve got some free time over the next week. That’s how long I’ve got my Airbnb.”
He’s staying in Orchard Blossom for a full week?“Oh, wow. Are you staying at the Claxton farmhouse?” It’s the best Airbnb in the area—a large, recently renovated farmhouse on fifty acres that looks delightfully quaint but actually features tons of luxurious modern amenities and upgrades, thanks to the family’s overhaul of the place after Old Man Claxton passed away. If I were a rich person staying in Orchard Blossom, that’s where I’d stay, hands down. Although, if I were a rich person, I can’t imagine I’d choose to stay in Orchard Blossom for a full week, when I could go anywhere in the world. Which makes me wonder, yet again, what the heck he’s really doing here.
“Yeah, I think that’s what it’s called. It’s a big, green farmhouse on the outskirts of town.”
“That’s the Claxton place. Good choice. It’s our version of the Four Seasons.” I shift my weight and run my palm down Butterscotch’s back. “Have you gone down to the stream on the property?”
“Not yet. I just got in late last night.”
My heart is pounding against my sternum. “You should check it out. It’s teeming with rainbow trout. Some other fish, too, but mostly trout.”
Roman takes two slow steps forward, but he stops when he gets just inside the small stall. “Do you know how to fish?”
I nod. “Mr. Claxton was friends with my grandpa—my mom’s dad—so he used to let my brother and me go fishing on his property when we were little.” I press my lips together and tell myself not to babble about fishing when all I want to know is why the heck he’s here. What he wants. Why he’s bothered. But when Roman doesn’t speak, I can’t help filling the awkwardsilence with, “I mean, I’m in no danger of being featured on the Fishing Channel, but I can usually catch enough fish for a nice dinner.”
With a panty-melting smile on his face, Roman takes another step forward. “Maybe you can show me how to fish, while I’m here.”
My breathing has turned shallow. My head is spinning. “Trout fishing is easy. All you need is the right lure and bait, and you’ll be Long John Silver in no time.”Long John Silver? What the heck, Iris?
Roman takes two more steps forward, until he’s looking at me with blazing eyes from across Butterscotch’s back. “Maybe you could help me pick out the right lure and bait.”
It suddenly feels intolerably hot in this stable. Also, like my heart might physically burst at his sheer proximity. “I-I could certainly do that. Or y-you could go to Peterson’s Bait and Tackle in town and ask for advice. Mr. P-Peterson makes these cool handmade lures that work like a charm. They’re more expensive than the prepackaged cheapies, but they’re totally worth it.”
Roman’s dark eyes twinkle and one side of his perfect mouth hitches up. “That’s good to know. Thanks for the intel.”
“Are there any fishing rods at the rental? If not, I’m sure my dad has one you could borrow.”
Roman places his large palm onto Butterscotch’s back, and the horse swishes his blond tail in reply. Not to mention, my body electrifies at the sight of Roman’s big hand, resting mere inches from my chest.
“Actually,” he says, his eyes locked with mine, “I think there were two rods in a closet at the Airbnb, so you’d only have to bring one for yourself if you come teach us how to fish.”
My racing heart feels like it’s stopped. “Us?” For the life of me, I can’t fathom what that word means in this context.
Roman’s lopsided grin returns. “I brought Maverick with me.”
My jaw hangs open. “Oh. Wow.” It’s all my overwhelmed brain can manage.
“You said I didn’t show you the real me in Kauai, so I came to show him to you here—and I realized I can’t do that without introducing you to my son. He’s my heart and soul, Iris. As real as I get.” Roman noticeably flushes a bit. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “My parents are here with me, too. They came along to help with Mav this week, in case I happen to get lucky and get a date with a pretty girl while I’m here.”
Date.
With me?
Am I the pretty girl?
My brain searches for a different meaning. A more logical one. But it can’t come up with anything else. My chest heaving, I blurt, “I watched the press conference, Roman. In a sports bar. Everyone went nuts, exactly like you said.” My breathing feels erratic, so I take a deep, steadying breath. “After the press conference, I heard your new Thunderbolts jersey sold out within hours of the announcement, and it’s now the best-selling NFL jersey.”
Roman smiles ruefully. “Yeah, we’ll see how long the honeymoon phase lasts once the season starts. If I don’t start racking up wins out of the gate, those same fans will start burning my jersey in effigy.”
I swat at the air above Butterscotch’s back to shoo a fly. “Don’t worry about that. You’re gonna come out of the gate winning. I know it in my bones.”
He raps his knuckles to the side of his head, playfully knocking on wood. “Let’s hope your bones are psychic.” As he drops his hand to his side, his Adam’s apple bobs. “Hey, would you be willing to come out from behind the horse so I can give you a hug?”
My knees buckle, so I grip Butterscotch to steady myself. “Yes. Of course.”
“Only if you’re comfortable.”
“No, I am. Yes. Of course.”
