And stopped.
Ethan.
He was lying a few feet away, stretched out on his back. His head rested on a balled-up jacket, one arm slung overhis eyes, the other sprawled between them, fingers just grazing the edge of the blanket like he was reaching for them.
Shadow covered his face, the morning light not quite reaching him. His jaw, dusted with stubble, looked sharper from this angle, but he furrowed his brow even in sleep—like whatever tension lived in him during the day refused to let go.
Then, his lashes fluttered, his eyes opened, and he caught her watching him.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Same as you.”
“I was making sure Pickles was okay.”
Ethan’s gaze drifted from her undoubtedly wild hair to the goat tucked against her side. “Yeah. Well. After you flung yourself into a well in the middle of the night, I started to question if you were okay.”
“I did not fling myself anywhere.”
“That’s not how I saw it.”
Okay, maybe she had launched herself over the well’s rim without much of a plan. But when she’d seen the little goat’s tiny head bobbing in the water, something had switched off in her brain and lit up in her chest. It wasn’t until her feet hit the bottom and coins skittered underfoot that the cold pierced her skin. All she’d been able to think about was the frantic little creature. Tucked against her shirt as Ethan hauled them out, he’d shivered against her skin.
Now, she rubbed a hand over his fur, and a sigh trembled through his little body, assuring her he was alright. “I did what was necessary.”
“You acted without thinking,” Ethan said, standing upwith a groan and crossing into the kitchen headed for the coffeepot. “It was very out of character.”
“Maybe I’m evolving,” she said, tipping her chin up. “That’s what happens when you drop a structured woman into the chaos of Brim’s Hollow.”
“You may end up a farm woman yet.”
She watched him move around his kitchen, the ease in the way he reached for the filters, filled the carafe, and set the coffeepot to brew. She caught herself imagining what it would feel like to belong here with him moving easily around her as though she’d always been part of the picture.
“I might not mind it.”
He turned the coffeepot on and leaned his elbows on the island, studying her. “I’m not sure if that scares or impresses me.”
She laughed softly, and he looked at her for a beat longer before saying, quieter now, “Thanks. For finding Emma.”
“Of course.”
If only all the problems plaguing the Hale Family Orchard could be solved with a single leap of faith. The memory of the men from yesterday tightened her shoulders. She’d stood there with nothing really to stop them. It was an awful feeling, helplessness, and she imagined Ethan felt it even more acutely than she did.
The coffee machine burbled. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
“You’ll figure out how to save the orchard,” Honey said, and for once, she was proud of herself for biting back the five follow-up suggestions crowding her tongue.
Ethan turned his back to her and busied himself with the coffee. The clink of a spoon against ceramic filled thekitchen as he added cream and sugar to one of the mugs. For a second, she thought that was the end of the conversation.
“The goats won’t be enough,” he admitted. Then, with his back still turned, he asked, “Did you have any other ideas?”
Something about the question fluttered in her chest. “I have a whole file of them,” she said softly.
He turned around slowly, a mug in each hand, and—damn it—his dimple was showing. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
He came around the island to where Honey was standing and stopped in front of her, offering one of the mugs. Their fingers brushed as she took it, warm porcelain against warm skin, and neither of them pulled away.
