Page 49 of Love You Anyway

“I swear, I’m not trying to be a cock tease?—”

He stops me with a finger over my lips. “That’s not how I see you at all.”

I meet his gaze, all molten and dreamy. “You sure?”

Nodding slowly, he winds a loose wave of my wayward hair around his finger and tucks it behind my ear. I don’t bother to look around to see if anyone is watching us. I feel like we’re safely sealed in a bubble, protected from the world. Even if it isn’t true, it feels good to believe it is.

“I see you as gorgeous, smart, and capable of anything. You’re so fucking sexy, and I want you any way I can have you, but slow is what I have in mind, Junebug…” He lets the nickname linger on his tongue, and instead of sounding like ateasing name for a friend’s little sister, it sounds as hot as sin. I imagine it hissing from his mouth while he comes. And a jolt of fire hits my core.

I nod. “Good.”

It seems like he’s having trouble pulling air into his lungs.

I like seeing the tiny cracks in the armor of such a strong, brilliant man. I like causing them to break open.

“Can we make an excuse and leave?” he asks, eyes heating at the suggestion.

Oh, how I wish we could. Never have I been more annoyed by the ritual of dinner followed by my brownies followed by game night than I am at this moment.

“I want to…but I don’t think we can. Not before game night.” I blink and shake my head at the pure unfairness of it.

“Game night? What the hell’s that?”

“Game night is when we all play Pictionary or charades. And you need to put a dollar in the swear jar,” Fiona says, delighted at catching Colin with his guard down. His hand pulls back from my thigh, and he widens the distance between us. Slowly, reluctantly, I slide my hand from his leg and leave it in the narrow space between us on the bench.

Fiona didn’t seem to notice our hands, so I exhale a small breath of relief. “Ruby, did you start hide-and-seek without me?” she yells, running back toward her dad in the vineyard.

Colin puts both hands on the picnic table and blinks himself back to reality. The hungry look leaves his face and is replaced by concern. “Someone should’ve warned me. I don’t really draw.”

“You don’t?”

“Not unless it requires arrows and launch trajectories.”

“Have you been banned from other drawings?”

“Yeah. I’m terrible at it. If I draw a picture of an asteroid, it might look like a potato.”

“I like that you’re worried you’ll be asked to draw an asteroid.”

His lips quiver, fighting a smile. “Wise. Ass.”

“I really think you can do this. Just give it your best.” I watch his expression morph from confident to something else. His mouth pulls down at the corner, and his eyes narrow.

“That might not end well.”

“If you don’t know you’re good at something, you don’t like to try it?” It’s fun to rib him. It gives me a tiny bit of control while my cheeks have betrayed how much I like having his hand on my leg. I kind of love how he’s brilliant in so many ways but uncomfortable about drawing a doodle.

“Maybe. A bit,” he admits. His hand crawls higher on my thigh. I swallow hard. He watches me and grins, taking back control in an instant.

I exhale a shaky breath. “I have an idea. Come with me.” I extract myself from the picnic bench at the table and tip my head toward the kitchen. Without turning around, I feel Colin behind me like a magnetic force field.

Bursting through the kitchen door, I point a finger at Dash. “Hey, did you all really invite a guest here and not give him a tour of the orchard out back?” My voice is an accusing whine, one I perfected as a kid but rarely use now. It’s a particular youngest child pitch that cuts through the noise in a room and demands attention. I got a lot of mileage out of being bratty and loud back when it was the only way to get anyone’s attention.

All faces turn toward me. “I didn’t think he wanted a tour of the orchard.” Dash grumbles like it goes without saying that no one would want to see rows of Pink Lady and Honeycrisp apples.

“He’s never been here. He should see it,” I gripe, making a big show of rolling my eyes. “You all are terrible hosts.”

“Drama queen much?” Dash grumbles.

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