“Fuck.”
Rowan. Of course, it’s freaking Rowan.
The towel slipped, nearly unwinding from her chest. Enya clutched it tighter, her free hand flying up to steady herself against Rowan’s arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, the muscle tense. He didn’t move back. Didn’t even flinch. Just stood there, his breath hitching like he’d been the one caught off-guard.
“You okay?” His voice was lower than usual.
She swallowed. “Yeah. Just—didn’t see you.”
“Obviously.”
The word hung between them, heavy with something she couldn’t name. His gaze flicked down, just for a second, before snapping back to her face. But it was enough. Enough to make her skin prickle, enough to send a heat pooling low in her stomach.
Stop it.
This is Rowan.
He’s just… Rowan.
Trying to avoid the heat in his eyes, she sidestepped, putting space between them, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. “I just need to get dressed. Gimme five minutes.” She scooted around him and rushed into her room as fast as possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rowan stood rootedto the spot, his heart pounding like he’d sprinted a ten-mile ruck in full battle rattle. He could still feel the imprint of Enya’s hand on his arm, see the flush of her skin, the drip of water from her hair tracing a path down her neck, disappearing beneath the towel.
A fucking towel.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, his stubble rasping against his palm. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. Shouldn’t be thinking about the curve of her waist, the freckles on her shoulders, or the way her eyes had widened when she’d looked at him.
She’s not yours to want, asshole.
He turned on his heel, stalking down the hall to the kitchen.
Gael looked up from his laptop as Rowan entered, his eyebrows rising. “You look like you heard I’m fixin’ to bring home another critter.”
Rowan yanked open the fridge. “You better jus’ be fucking with me.” He grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap and flicked it onto the counter. It spun like a top before clattering to a stop.
“That bad, huh?” Gael asked, leaning back in his chair.
Rowan took a long pull from the bottle, the cold liquid sliding down his throat. He didn’t trust himself to answer. Instead, he leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other, in a futile attempt to pretend like he hadn’t a care in the world. Not that he thought his brother would buy it for one second, never mind two.
Gael’s chair creaked as he stood, and he reached past him to grab his own beer from the fridge. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
Gael chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Fair enough.” He mirrored Rowan’s pose, leaning against the counter. “You know, I’ve been thinking. We need to get some groceries for the trip. You might as well grab some stuff for the house, too.”
Rowan glanced at him, grateful for the change in subject. “You want me to go to the grocery store? Me?”
Gael shrugged. “The usual. Bread, milk, eggs. Maybe a couple of steaks, the thick-cut ones.”
Rowan nodded, draining the last of his beer. “Alright. Maybe Enya will keep me from lookin’ like a lost puppy while I fill the damn cart.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Gael pushed off the counter, tossing his empty bottle into the recycling bin. “I’ll go check on the horses. Make sure Enya didn’t leave any messes behind.”
Rowan’s grip tightened on his bottle, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Just nodded, focusing on the cool glass under his fingers. He heard Gael’s retreating footsteps, the soft creak of the screen door opening and closing, then silence. Which was nearly worse. Silence offered too much time for his imagination to take flight.
Rein it in, buttercup.
