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Her cheeks pinched as she pretended to glare at him, despite the smile on her face. “The music isn’t very loud out here for dancing.”
Leo didn’t stop. “It’s loud enough.”
She shook her head. She was eye level with his chest. Her gaze roamed at the opening of his shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his neck, and she had the strange urge to lick it.
Control yourself, Alana.
She peered up at him. Leo’s eyes were out on the field and the lake beyond. He looked relaxed and content.
“Tell me about Normandy,” she urged. “Tell me about your family.”
The tips of Leo’s fingers traced up and down her spine, brushing at her bare skin when he reached her shoulders and neck. “My parents had high expectations for what they wanted for me. Private schooling, tutors, elite colleges. They wanted me to be rich and powerful like them. But I hated the classroom.” He sighed. “Normandy is a cider-producing region, and I loved being in the orchards far more. I knew I wanted to work in the fields, to make something with my hands for people to enjoy. And they detested me for it.”
Alana rubbed a thumb along his forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
His smile was sad. “They wanted me to move to Paris and do something impressive after high school. I broke their hearts by moving to the Loire after my baccalauréat exam. They didn’t speak to me after that, except for the occasional call to let them know how disappointed they were.”
Anger flared white-hot in her chest. “That is unfair. They are your family. They should be happy that you found something you are passionate and good at.”
“For two people who live in France, they care very little about passion,” Leo explained.
It was a life that was unfathomable to comprehend. Her mother and father exuded passion. In the fields, in their home, with each other. Passion and love were at the heart of what drove them to make their corner of the earth so special. The soil had the magic, but the Mariens had brought it to life. Without passion, without love…what was even the point?
A chorus of laughter echoed from the barn down the slope. Alana peered at the twinkling lights and the blur of people inside, the dancing and the smiles. Sophie was dancing with her friends, and Tess and Cal were making out on a hay bale. Freya was talking to Chris, the two of them in some sort of serious conversation. She was glad it wasn’t her tonight.
“Why do you keep doing it?” she asked softly, changing the subject.
“Doing what?”
“Saving me.”
He blinked down at her with those icy-blue eyes.
“It’s like you have a knack for knowing when I’m uncomfortable, and you know exactly how to make it better,” she continued. “Like at the market, when I was overwhelmed by all of those people. Or that day when I was lying in the field. Or the other night—” She exhaled. “I really wanted a cigarette that night, but you distracted me. I completely forgot about it after that.”
Leo’s expression was unreadable, like he was trying to calculate the right way to respond.
“I’m not even sure you realize you’re doing it,” she admitted, feeling embarrassed.
“I do,” he responded, the confident vibrato of his deep voice a balm to her uneasy spirit.
She glanced away. “You don’t have to, you know. I can fight my own battles. I need to face my own problems. I need to fix them.”
Leo released the hand at her waist, then brushed it along her neck, tipping her chin with his finger as he brought her back to face him.
Her breath hitched.
“I know you can fight your battles on your own,” he explained calmly. “But when we share our burdens with others, the load becomes easier to bear.”
“I don’t want you to have to bear my burdens.”
“Alana, I want to.”
She scanned his features, the dim blue of his eyes, the serious expression he wore. “Why?”
Leo didn’t respond with words. Instead, his eyes dipped to her lips.
She knew what was going to happen next, and she knew she needed to stop it. But her heart was saying otherwise. Her heart was telling her to lean in. To go all in.
