Page 24 of Honey Bee Hearts

Though his words sound like flirting, his expression barely changes, as if he’s keeping his emotions under check. The man certainly has a poker face that could win every game. I peer up at him, at the way he holds himself, and something tells me he used to be in some position of power, or maybe he still is.

“You planning on sticking around for the rest of my time here?” I ask, looking up at him.

The way he looks down at me, the way his eyes focus on mine, makes it feel like this is where he wants me, which is such a silly thing to flicker through my mind. Still, my chest tightens at that thought, at the way he holds me hostage with his gaze. Where Gunnar is all respectful and kind smiles, Colt feels like he’d do nothing but disrespect me and I’d somehow still enjoy it. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he gives that impression. There’s nothing about him that overtly says that. It’s just his presence.

“I’ll be here,” he reassures me. “Don’t you worry, Fable Everhart. I’ll even come find you in a few days to show you what it is I do on this ranch.”

Why does my mind go to sex with that promise? Colt King is a dangerous one. But damn if I’m not interested in finding out how.

Chapter 14

Fable

Everyone is busy the next day, so I get time to wander around and keep myself entertained. I decide the best thing I could do is go for a walk through the pastures, taking in the clean air and the sight of the mountains in the distance. Everything here is prettier, freer, and exactly what I needed.

“I knew you’d like it here,” Jinx muses beside me. “You must have been a cowgirl in a past life.”

“You should be here with me,” I answer, glancing over at her.

“I am, Everhart,” she says. “I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean,” I choke.

So many people tell you about the phantom limb sensation when you lose an actual limb. All the doctors and nurses warned me about phantom itches and pain in a leg that is no longer there. At the time, I’d barely digested their words. When the first phantom itch had happened, it drove me insane, and I understood.

So yes, everyone warned me about how bad the phantom itch would be, but not a single person warned me about my phantom friend. How when you lose someone so close to you, you stillsee them in everything you do. No one warned me about the pain that comes with every moment. If I smile, I’m reminded she’s not here. If I’m sad, I’m reminded of the way she used to hug me. When I pick up something that reminds me of her, I’m reminded of the way she used to squeeze my hand three times to tell me she loved me, and how I haven’t felt that since she died. Everything reminds me of her because she was my sister in all but blood.

So now I’m haunted by the loss of my limb and the loss of my best friend. Seems only fitting that my leg would start itching right about now. I thump the hard plastic and metal beneath my pant leg as if that’ll make it go away. It never does.

At first, I’m so lost in my thoughts, the sound in the distance doesn’t really register. I wander closer before I realize what it is I’m hearing, before it penetrates my sad musings. Singing. Someone is singing way out here in the pasture.

I follow the sound until a bunch of white boxes appear in the distance. In the middle of them, a man dressed all in white moves around, checking the boxes. Loud buzzing adds to his song as he sings to the bees. I don’t recognize the song, but his voice is as smooth as the honey he tends to. He doesn’t see me, that much I know, because his back is to me as he sings. He belts out the song as if he’s in the car and no one can hear, though I suppose, he expects no one will hear out here. I don’t know how far I’ve walked but I know I’ve been walking for hours, so long that my leg is aching and telling me I’ve exercised it too much. I may have a blister later.

Rhett and I haven’t gotten much time together since the first day. Whatever it is that he does, he’s often busy, but he doesn’t ever hesitate to shoot a pickup line my way when he sees me at meals. Out here, when he thinks he’s alone, he’s a completely different person.

He dances around as he sings, putting on a show for his bees. They buzz around him comfortably, moving to and fro past me as I draw closer, doing whatever it is that bees do. I continue to close the distance, until I’m right outside the boxes. I don’t want to get too close in case they think I’m a threat, so I stay back by his side-by-side and lean against it to watch him. He goes on for long minutes, finishing one song and switching to another. It’s only when he spins like a ballerina that he stumbles to a stop, his voice going from the song to a little shriek before he realizes who I am.

“Where the hell did you come from?” he asks, staring at me with wide eyes. “And how long have you been there? Christ, you about gave me a heart attack, woman!”

The outfit he wears is something I never would have expected of him despite knowing it’s the beekeeper outfit always used in movies. Dressed in all white, the only source of color on him right now is where I can see his face through the netting of his hat.

“I was walking,” I offer. “I heard you singing and came to investigate.”

He looks into the distance where I came from. “Jesus, Fable. We’re a mile out from the house. You walked all the way out here?”

“We are?” I blink. “I. . . didn’t realize. I was just walking.”

He shakes his head. “I get it. I like walks as much as the next man, but you don’t have to walk back at least. You can ride with me.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your work?—”

“Nonsense, I’m done anyways,” he argues. He comes from the center of the bees and pulls off his hat. Before I know what he’s doing, he drops the hat and unzips his white jumpsuit down to his waist. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath, and I watch as he pulls his arms out before tying it around it waist, leaving hisupper half bare. His copper hair gently smatters across his chest, his freckles marking his skin across his built shoulders. “Unless you’d like to stay out here and have your wicked way with me,” he says when I look too long. “I’m okay with that, too.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

“Sorry,” I flush, jerking my eyes back up to his.

“I’m not,” he teases. “You’re welcome to look as long as you’d like. Want me to take the rest off?” he asks, reaching for his waistband.

“No!” I say the same time as Jinx’ voice echoes “Yes!” in my mind. “You can stay dressed.”

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