Page 35 of Delicate Escape

“Okay, go get your harness.”

Maybe Moose could be the distraction I needed while coming face-to-face with Shep again. A second later, Moose raced back into the kitchen, a harness between his teeth. I bent and quickly put it on him, then grabbed two of the reusable glass bottles I’d filled with lemonade, putting them in the pouch of my overalls.

Looping the leash around my wrist, I got the plates and headed for the door. It was a juggling act to open said door without Moosetaking off my hand, but I finally succeeded. As I stepped outside, I knew there wasn’t much daylight left.

I felt Shep’s eyes before I saw them. The warmth of his stare felt different than when anyone else looked at me. Other people were a prickle on my skin, but not Shep. He was a low, smoky heat.

I forced my legs to move and close the distance between us as I searched for the source of that heat. Shep’s amber eyes were locked on me, his expression unreadable but still warm. His gaze tracked over my face and down, then stilled for a moment on the drinks and the food. It froze altogether when he got to Moose.

“What the hell is that thing?”

It was just what I needed. A laugh burst out of me. “His name is Moose.”

“It should be Beast,” Shep said, still staring.

Moose hissed in response, and Shep’s brows flew up.

“Seriously?”

I grinned at him. “Moose can be a little touchy and senses if someone’s talking about him.”

Shep’s gaze returned to my face, shining that smoky heat there. “Whatcha got there?”

I suddenly felt a little uneasy. Embarrassed that I’d made the man a meal without even asking if he was hungry.

Shep seemed to sense my discomfort. “Thorn?”

My focus snapped back to him. “Thought you might be hungry.”

The smile that stretched across his face was like a straight shot of the sun. Pure light and warmth. It wrapped around me, digging in and illuminating places that had been dark for so long.

“You thought right.” He glanced at his truck. “Let me grab my shirt.”

Shep didn’t wait for my answer; he simply jogged toward his vehicle and tee. But I couldn’t help but keep watching how his muscles bowed and flexed in the golden sunlight.

A paw slapped my leg, and I looked down at Moose. “There’s no harm inlooking.”

My cat just meowed.

“Here, let me take the plates. I feel like you need two hands for the beast,” Shep offered, his lips twitching.

“Sure,” I said, my voice going a bit soft.

“Where’s a good place to eat?” he asked.

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Now, I was kicking myself. I knew having him inside would mean me fighting panic the whole time, but the only furniture on my back deck was a single chaise lounge.

“Thorn,” Shep said quietly, “we’re not going inside, so take that off the table. I’m covered in dirt, so I’m happy to sit right here. But I want us to go wherever you’re comfortable.”

His words hurt. They were so unbelievably kind and understanding. So many emotions warred within me: embarrassment, gratitude, relief.

“The back deck,” I croaked. “We can sit on the steps.”

Shep’s smile was back. The sunlit glow cast out the shadows that swirled in my mind.

“That’s perfect.” He was already moving—not quickly but leading us to where we needed to go.

The newer deck had wide steps that gave us a makeshift table and chairs. Shep waited for me to sit and then sat several feet away.

---