“They’re quite gentle, and Figaro should leave him alone, but I’d rather he get used to farm life. I’ve done some studying on the internet about goats and what they need. I can’t leave him alone, so at least we can keep watch at work.”
“I’ll come relieve you in the afternoon, when Phoenix is resting,” he said, cutting up his potato. Rosemary and olive oil clung to the skins, making them sheen. A groan of pleasure escaped. “We’ll give it a few days and work from there.”
“You don’t have to,” she said softly.
He drilled her with his gaze. “Yeah, I do. I’m just as responsible for his care as you, love. Deal?”
A smile bloomed on her lips. “Deal.”
His heart squeezed into a merciless fist. Damn, she was beautiful. Did she realize it? He’d love proving it to her in a variety of ways.
She cut up her chicken in tiny squares and gracefully popped them into her mouth. He enjoyed the way she ate like a lady. He’d been around workers on the farm and admitted most of their manners were rough—including his. He liked how she took care with her meal, pressing the napkin to her lips in regular intervals, as if they were on a date.
He needed a distraction. Fast. “Has Ethan worked the farm his whole life?” he asked, the first question he came up with. But he was curious about the close bond she shared with her brother.
“No, he was a Special Forces paratrooper. He was in Afghanistan when his leg was shot up pretty bad. You probably noticed he walks with a limp.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Knew he was military, but I didn’t want to ask.”
“He left about a year and a half ago and came home. Had PTSD. Took him a while to heal, but being on the farm and meeting Mia helped. He’s always been a bit of a horse whisperer.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”
“He shares a special bond with Phoenix. Got the horse to take a saddle and ride again. Spent nights in the barn, calming his fears. The name he picked symbolized both of them. They’ve flourished.” A tiny sigh escaped her lips. He stared at her, fascinated by the sound that reminded him of faint longing. “Phoenix healed from Ethan. Ethan healed from Mia. Kind of beautiful, isn’t it?”
He ached to slide his hand across the table and entwine his fingers with hers. Already the connection between them simmered like a low flame ready to rise. “It is. Your brother is a hell of man.” He took another pull of beer. “All of you are. Bet your mom was pretty amazing.”
“She was. A hard worker. A fiery temper like Ophelia used to have. A heart so full of love, there was enough for the entire world. Ophelia’s husband, Kyle, had a hard time back in the day with his dad. He’d run to the farm and Mom always took him in. He was like another member of our family growing up.”
“Was she as passionate about animal rescue as you are?”
He figured it was an easy answer for her, but when she hesitated, he studied her face. A flicker of pain glinted hard and deep in those sea-green eyes. She dropped her head and focused on her plate, as if afraid to show him too much. “Yes. I never knew why, though. Maybe it’s just a calling to certain people. I believe God bestows certain gifts. Ophelia has her singing. Ethan has his bravery. And I’m able to connect with animals.”
Something was missing in her answer. She was a puzzle, and this piece was critical in peeling back those layers she kept tight around her. He made his voice sound casual in order not to spook her. “Did this gift start at a young age?”
Her fingers jerked. The fork dropped. He waited, silent, sensing an anguish swirling around her figure. She picked up her beer, but he noticed the slight tremble in her body.
Demons. They all had them. Some were forgotten with enough time. Some came at night. Some stayed buried.
Some lay in wait with a haunting presence, planning the perfect time to spring.
“Let’s just say animals saved my life.” She looked up, her face rearranged into a well-guarded expression, and the moment slipped by.
Aidan hoped he’d get another shot at the truth, because he sensed it made up the essence of who she truly was. For now, he decided to lighten the mood. “I really enjoyed this apology. But it feels a bit short. Maybe some dessert would allow me to completely forgive you.”
She laughed and he drank in the way her face lit up and her lips softened and her eyes glowed like the Caribbean Sea. “I figured you’d insist on the full-course apology. I got bourbon pecan pie.”
“You are officially forgiven.”
“With vanilla bean ice cream.”
“And you get a marker against any future insult,” he added.
They laughed together, and he helped clear the dishes while he snuck more scraps to the dogs. She put on a pot of Rwanda Blue Bourbon coffee—one of his favorites now if he didn’t choose tea—and they talked business while they feasted on pie.
Night crept in. The plates were scraped clean. The coffee grew cold. Aidan tapped an index finger against the rim of his cup. “Ophelia said I can move back to the inn for the next ten days,” he said casually.
The energy shifted, expanded, heated. The dogs trotted away, as if sensing the growing tension, and flopped down near the door.
“Oh.” She paused, lifting her gaze. “Do you want to go back to the inn?”
He considered his answer and chose the safe route. “Do you want me to?”
He caught the tightening of her muscles, the uneasy shift of her weight. She popped out of the chair, grabbed the rest of the dishes, and turned away. “Up to you.”
“Actually, it’s not,” he said. His tone was mild, but this had to be her call. Sure, it was convenient to stay here, but for him, it was much more. He craved her presence: the sight of her face, the scent of her hair, the sound of her laugh. He’d miss her. Seeing her at the farm was different from sharing time with her at home. Eating dinner, watching television, shoulders pressed together on the couch while the animals encircled them—it had all become a routine he’d begun to savor. Every moment he seemed to discover another part of her that both fascinated and attracted him. And yeah, that was all sorts of fucked up, since they’d only been together a short time and decided not to cross over the blurred line between personal and business, but he didn’t care anymore. “You offered out of sympathy and convenience. Now I’m able to leave, and I want to know how you feel about it.”
She blew out an annoyed snort and whirled back around. A frown creased her brow. “It’s no big deal for you to stay here,” she tossed out. “Your choice.”
He tried to back down, but frustration and want twisted inside and made him a bit ugly. Made him want to push. “I’ll go. Unless you tell me you’d like me to stay.”
Her mouth fell open. “What is it with you and my verbal assurances? You don’t need anything from me to make your own decision.”
A grim smile played on his lips. “Oh, but I do.” Slowly, he unfolded himself from the chair and stood in the tiny kitchen, facing her. “I’m getting tired of ignoring what’s going on with us. Pretending we don’t want to forget about what’s right and what’s wrong and rip each other’s clothes off. So I’m going to ask again. Do you want me to stay or go?”