Page 37 of Delicate Escape

I shoved that thought down and focused on the good of here and now. Zeroed in on how much Shep loved my creation. “I love coming up with recipes for things. It’s a fun little challenge. I take whatever I have on hand, in the greenhouse, and go all mad scientist.”

Shep turned as I inclined my head toward the building. He let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the setup.”

“I’ve always loved getting produce from local farmers markets, but here in Sparrow Falls is the first time I’ve tried to grow more than a basil plant on my own.”

Shep opened the sandwich, analyzing the contents. “You grow the arugula?”

I nodded. “And the garlic for the aioli. And the onions.”

Shep just shook his head. “My mom has a garden where she grows a few veggies, but this puts hers to shame. She’d love to see this.”

My grip on the lemonade bottle tightened. Having Shep here was stressful enough. Another person I didn’t know at all? It’d likely send me over the edge.

“Thorn,” Shep said. My gaze jumped to him. “That wasn’t me inviting her over for cocktails and caviar. It was just me saying that she’d love it and that I appreciate all you’ve put into this because I’ve seen her work on this sort of thing on a much smaller scale.”

My gaze dropped to Moose as he rolled on his back in the grass, attacking the blades. “Sorry.”

“There’s not a damn thing you need to be sorry for. This is your place. You make the rules.”

That burn was back, the pressure of tears gathering behind my eyes. Of frustration and embarrassment. I didn’t want to be like this. Yet I didn’t know how to stop.

Shep’s hand covered mine. The contact was gentle, yet it rocked me. The only two people who had touched me in any way over the past two years were Sutton and Rhodes. This was entirely different.

I could feel the calluses on Shep’s palm skating across the smoother skin of my hand. His heat seeped in there. It was that same sort of sunlight but from touch alone. My head jerked up, and I found nothing but empathy and kindness in his eyes.

“We all do what we have to do to make it through. I’m never going to judge you for what you need to feel safe.”

As I stared into those amber eyes, I knew Shep was telling the truth. But for the first time in two years, I wished I didn’t need to have all the safety precautions and walls to keep people out. Because as risky as it was, I wanted to let Shep in.

14

SHEP

Anson lookedup at the old farmhouse and let out a whistle. “You really went for it with this one.”

“It’s not as bad as Rho’s Victorian,” I defended.

He shook his head as he started walking around the side of the house. “Maybe not, but it’s bigger, and we’ve only got the two of us working on it for the most part.”

It would’ve gone a lot faster if I could’ve put a full crew on it, but we had too many other projects, and being the owner of Colson Construction meant I had to make choices that were the best for the company as a whole. I couldn’t delay someone else’s job because I wanted more workers on mine, especially when one of those undertakings was my sister’s.

The best I could do was to steal Anson. And that was a lot. Because my friend did damn good work, and his attention to detail was unparalleled. It had to be the profiler in him. His time working for the FBI and burrowing into deranged minds had left him attuned to even the slightest things. It came in handy on construction sites.

“Bigger just means I’ll be able to flip it for more of a profit.” But the moment the words were out of my mouth, I wasn’t sure they were true. Something about the ole girl called to me. And the quiet beauty of the landscape around us put me at ease.

“True,” Anson said as he studied the house. “You get an official offer on your Craftsman?”

I nodded. “Above asking. We close next week, and Jennie got them to hold move-in for two weeks. Should give me enough time to find a place.”

“Good luck with that,” Anson muttered. “Tourist season is in full swing, and it keeps lasting longer and longer.”

That was true and definitely a concern. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “If I’m not careful, I’ll end up living with Cope’s nosy ass.”

Anson chuckled. “The good thing about that is you know he’ll only be home for a few weeks at most.”

Cope never stayed long. He always said it was due to work commitments, but I wondered if it was more. “He’s too pushy to live with for even two weeks.”

Anson was quiet for a moment before turning to me. “They’re worried about you.”

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