She turned slowly to meet his gaze.
She didn't ask the question, but it hung in the air between them.
"You could try to relax and enjoy being on the inside for once instead of only driving by and wondering."
The words he really wanted to say stayed frozen. She didn't need to hear them. Not yet, maybe not ever. All he needed to do was give her a better feel for the place, like she'd asked him to.
He pointed along the row of vines. "Do you feel up to a bit of a walk? The land rises, and from up there you'll get a great view of the whole place. I used to go up there all the time."
"But you don't anymore? Why not?"
He had to think about it before he answered. "Honestly? I've taken this place for granted too much these last few years. I'm glad you let me come along; it'll do me good to fall in love with it again, too."
"You think I'll fall in love with it?"
He met her gaze briefly. "That's what I'm hoping." He hurried on. "I mean, I'm not any kind of artist, but that's how it works, isn't it? Whether it's a painting or a photograph or any other piece of art, the love the artist feels for the subject comes through in the work." He rolled his eyes to hide his embarrassment. "Listen to me talking like I have a clue!"
"You do. You understand. That's exactly why I wanted to come out here, to get a feel for the place." She seemed a little out of breath as she spoke.
He stopped walking. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, just out of shape, I guess. I've been doing too much sitting around on my ass lately."
"Alara, no, don't brush it off. You look pale. Want to sit?"
She looked around. "Where?"
"Right here until you get your breath back, then when you're up to it there's a bench a little farther ahead."
She looked down at the ground then turned back to look at the house. "I don't know, maybe I can…"
He made the decision for her by sitting down himself and reaching for her hand. "If you don't want to sit in the dirt you can sit on me."
Her eyes widened, and then she laughed out loud. "I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded, but … Reaves!"
He laughed with her, running his hand over his face—he couldn't exactly tell her that if he thought she were interested, he'd mean every word of it. "You know what I mean. If you don't want to get your dress dirty, I'll stretch my legs out and …"
She lowered herself and, instead of aiming for the ground beside him like he expected, she landed her ass on his thighs, making him inhale sharply.
"Are you okay? Am I too heavy? I can move. I…"
As she started to move off him, his arm curled around her waist—he couldn't have stopped it if he'd wanted to.
"You're fine. You're not heavy—far from it." He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but she barely weighed more than Zia. Or that's how it seemed to him. He knew she was eating—Faye, his dad, and he had all been making a deliberate effort to feed her and Zia well—but she wasn't gaining any weight.
"Are you comfortable?"
"I am, but are you? I shouldn't have done this, shouldn't have sat here."
"I'm glad you did."
She met his gaze and held it for a long moment. "It's not that I don't like you, Reaves. I do. But it can't go anywhere, so it's better if we just … don't."
He nodded slowly. He'd already promised himself he wasn't going to put any pressure on her; she didn't need it.
"I know you think that, but all I'll say is that I hope that someday, down the line, you'll find that you're wrong, that you'll change your mind."
She sagged against him for a moment and it took all his restraint not to close both arms around her. "It's not about me changing my mind, Reaves. It's about me facing reality."
