I can’t help the way my eyes close as I lean into her touch.
A moment later, I open them to the crinkle of a band-aid just as her gaze lands on mine.
She looks away quickly, clearing her throat and fumbling with the band-aid between her fingers.
I fight the urge to reach out to her, rest my hand along the curve of her hip and tug her just a step closer.
But she lets out a sigh that reminds me what we are to each other. Neighbors. Friends, at the most.
So I keep my hands to myself, and instead say, “Maybe you can show me around the sunflower farm.”
She presses the band-aid to my forehead, her eyes focused on her fingers before they drop to mine. She nods. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Hell, maybe you could even show me around my property. If I had to bet, you know it better than I do.”
Her eyes flash for half a second. “I do.” She nods. “Look, I don’t have too much time right now. It’s our busy season and even though I don’t have a setjobas you might call it, I somehow don’t really get a break between sunrise and sunset.”
“After sunset,” I say, before I can even question my own motives.
She raises an eyebrow. “You mean when I sleep?”
I blink. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise. Snacks. Beverages of your choice.”
She considers this, but before she can answer me, I continue, “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to upset you. If you’re involved in the process, I’ll be able to make better decisions.”
She nods. “You’re right.”
Something tells me those aren’t words she says often.
“But I want hot Cheetos and white wine.”
I grin. “Done.”
7
EVE
He shows up like clockwork after the last puffy, colorful clouds of sunset have dipped below the tops of the sunflowers.
I made sure Abby, my right-hand gift shop girl, was prepared to stay and close for me. Normally I’d let her go earlier because she’s in college and would rather be slightly broke than miss a night out with her friends, but tonight I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to shower before showing Ryder Blackwell around the property.
Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, the whole jeans-and-flannel thing is really doing it for me. A war rages in my head because I know, logically, that I’m supposed to hate him.
But there’s also a woman in me who wants to don a pair of sunglasses at night just so I can stare at him a little. I don’t even need to do anything with the man. I just want tolook.Entertain the very improbable possibility because I know deep down inside that he’s putting on an act for me. Trying to endear me to him in an effort to get whatever it is he needs to get out of me.
And Iwill notlose sight of that.
I just have to figure out how to appreciate the very nice-looking man while I can, and not think about that little zap that passed between us when our hands touched earlier.
I run my fingers through my wet hair before opening the door.
It’s getting to that time of year when the sun sears your eyes in the afternoon but the nights get cool, and Ryder is wearing one of those thick jackets that’s fuzzy on the inside.
Might as well be wearing catnip, honestly.
He grins when the door opens and holds up a brown paper bag. “As requested, I brought snacks.”
“Oh good, youcanfollow directions,” I say, stepping to the side to let him in.
