Page 74 of Buried Roots

“As you should.”

He folds his arms. “You know I love being a vet and I’m doing my life’s work, but this is a distant second.”

“Distant, huh? I guess that’s a good thing. Nothing can take you away from the animals. You have a gift. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He blushes and looks away, like he always does. I say, “You really don’t like compliments, do you?”

“Nope. But it’s still nice when you say them.” He nods to the bare patch of the grassy knoll. “Let’s dance. See what it would be like for folks who are getting married in our imaginary barn.”

I cock my head, scolding him, but my pulse races.

“It’s site research, Willow. Work related.”

My heart does that thing it does when Owen lays on the charm, and I know I should say no, but he’s making it impossible with his lopsided grin and flicker of those eyes.

I put my tablet in my purse and set it down. As we step onto the “dance floor,” he appears to be at war with his wandering eyes, struggling to keep them focused on my face. At the moment, he’s losing, and they’ve darted down to my chest.

“Owen.” I smile, snapping my finger in front of his face. “Up here.”

“Sorry, jeez.” He exhales. “I mean, I’m really trying here. I just can’t resist you.”

I let out a faint laugh and shake my head. As we dance, it should be awkward because there’s no music, but we’re too busy laughing.

Until we’re not.

We’re holding each other with that magnetic pull stronger than ever. That barrier, the oneIcreated, evaporates between us. Why is being close to him, touching him, and holding him almost like breathing?

I could step away. I could turn around. I could do something,anything, but I don’t. I stand frozen as the gooseflesh appears on my shoulders where his breath hits. His smell of warm skin and tea tree oil rushes over me, and I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it.

He leans in and whispers, “If you want me to move, just say.”

I prepare my lips to tell him to go, but the words don’t leave my mouth. I’m frozen as his fingers run down my side, creating electricity along their paths, and I can’t bring myself to end this moment. Swallowing hard, I lean into him, hoping with everything in me that his hands continue to roam.

But they stop. Then he rasps, “Say you want more. Otherwise, I’m gone.”

My lips twitch as I fight the urge to answer him. But it’s useless. “More,” slips from my lips.

His fingers slither up my side, slowly, intentionally, until he’s finally under my shirt.

My body trembles as I wait for his next movement, his next breath, and I swear I want him more than I wanted anything ever in my life.

Why is this so bitter achingly painful?

He moves his lips to my neck, brushing them just beneath my earlobe, the place he knows makes me lose all control. Then, just like that, he pulls away. He’s got a mischievous smile when he says, “Wanna catch the stars with me tonight? I’ll bring the cinnamon whiskey.”

“I don’t know. We probably shouldn’t,” I manage to say, logic returning to my brain.

“Come on.” He puts out his palms. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

I sigh. “It’s not you. I’m not so sure I can keepmyhands to myself.”

He sucks in air through his teeth. “That’s a tough one. And why is that?”

“Well, you’re gorgeous, empirically, so there’s that. You can also be quite charming.” I jam a hand into my pocket. “From time to time.”

“Fair enough. But you should experience one more starry night in Violet Moon.”

How can I say no to that? “I should.”

He hesitates, looking into the distance. His face goes serious, and his eyes turn dark when he says, “But first, there’s some place I need you to see.”

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