Page 78 of On One Condition

Every freaking time.

He’s wearing casual clothes—blue jeans, a pale green V-neck that fits just right—and flip-flops adorn his feet. There’s something about seeing his choice of shoes that makes me smile.

This is as casual as Ledger Sharpe gets, and he wears it well.

Then again, he wears everything well.

“Hi.” His grin could light up the room. “George? Should I presume that’s the man who just drove out of the gate in his truck?”

It’s the first time I notice the fading sun and the color streaking across the sky indicating that it’s well past seven in the evening. “I completely lost track of time.”

“Working on something important?” he asks. The sun is at his back, creating a halo around his silhouette.

“Yes. No. Maybe.”

“You can’t go wrong with that answer.” He laughs as I rise from my seat and move to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Just a pipe dream that I’m trying to figure out if I can make a reality.”

“Tell me more,” he murmurs as I step into him and press my lips to his. Partially as a distraction and mostly because he and that glorious mouth of his are all I can think about.

And just like that, the budget numbers and figures and graphics I’ve been trying to piece together all afternoon slip from my mind.

There is only him. Only Ledger.

“We need to stop this before I forget my surprise for you,” he murmurs against my lips before kissing me again.

“Only if you promise we can start where we left off later.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Wait. Did you say surprise?”

“Go for a walk with me?” he asks cryptically and holds out his hand.

I look at him and then look at his hand. “Here? On the farm?”

“Yep.”

We take off in a slow stroll toward the back part of the property, walking near the end of the Folgate. There’s a breeze, which makes the lavender look like it’s at the bottom of the ocean, its leaves floating back and forth like water. A tide of purple.

There is a lot to be said about The Fields, but one thing that’s always held true is its sight, scent, and the tranquility that comes with each of them, leaving an indelible mark on you.

It was my short-lived time at the Pratt Institute that made me realize it.

It was returning home to take care of Gran and nurse the pain of losing my dream that reinforced it.

“It’s beautiful here,” Ledger says.

“It is. And so very far from your normal, everyday life.”

“True,” he says with a nod, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize beauty when I see it.” He looks at me in a way that says he’s talking about me.

I blush like an idiot and look around, curious what this whole walk thing is about. What is he up to? But rather than give me any clues, he just swings our hands back and forth.

“When did that happen to the barn?” he asks. “I’m usually an observant person. Did I miss that it’s always looked like that or has something changed?”

“I figured this place needed some curb appeal.” I’m not ready to tell him about my idea yet. I need more time to figure it all out. The last thing I want to do is make an ass out of myself for aiming too high. Especially with someone like Ledger who brings and transforms resorts to life for a living.