Page 76 of Beehives and Broken Heroes
“Like I’d let you get far,” he said. They headed up their individual rows at an easy pace.
“I thought I’d hate your brother and sister-in-law on sight, but I don’t.” She laughed. “I liked them.”
Brandon felt that warm glow near the vicinity of his heart again. “I’m glad.”
She turned to him and placed her hands on her hips. “Finally, the broken hero can heal.”
He shook his head, a grin spreading over his face. Of course she’d see him as a hero. “I healed a long time ago, and you well know it.”
Allie bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Good.” She nodded to the side. “Come and look at this.”
He stepped over the row of lavender, and her jaw dropped.
“Putting those long legs to use,” she said. “I would’ve had to get a running start to get over those.”
He followed her to one of several shadowed square stacks near the back of the little building. They stopped a couple of feet away, and the light from the lantern spilled out over eight beehive boxes.
“We put these here seven weeks ago,” she said.
“Is there honey in them yet?” He took a closer look at the stacks of boxes with drawers in them.
“Not for another couple of months.” She set the lantern down.
He let out a low whistle. “Four months for honey?”
She came over to him and nodded. “Good things are worth waiting for,” she said.
He stared into her lovely eyes. He’d waited for her for decades. He reached out and tugged a lock of her shorter hair, her proclamation as an individual to the world. She shivered and stared up at him with love and stars in her eyes—the way he’d always wished someone would look at him. And all he’d done was touch her hair.
“Don’t I know it, Sunshine.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her without restraint or reservation, kissed her until she was mewling into it, until her knees went weak and she was burying her fingers in his hair. He placed butterfly kisses up her jaw to her ear and murmured, “Don’t I know it.”
***
