Page 15 of Feeding the Grump
Then Benji starts to talk about his latest organic trial, and the way he talks about the land reinforces the lesson I’ve learnedover the last five years. He genuinely cares about the same things I do. He just comes at them from a different angle.
I find myself watching the curve of his smile, the way his hands move as he talks about nitrogen cycles and soil structure.Style and substance together in one package.The thought rises unbidden, warming my face and making me reach for my water bottle to gulp some down.
Benji licks a smear of honey from his thumb, then wipes his hands on his jeans before splaying his fingers on the blanket between us, just close enough that I can see a small scar across his knuckle.
I can be accused of being many things in life, but a coward isn’t one of them.
Taking a deep breath, I slide my hand over to cover his.
He freezes, and for a horrible second, I think I’ve got this all wrong, and my stomach plummets. The river sounds suddenly too loud in my ears, blood rushing alongside it.
But then Benji flips his hand over, curling his fingers to intertwine his with mine.
He fixes his green eyes on me.
“Remember the time you kept showing up every time I was testing my automated gates, pretending to check your fence line, when really you were making sure I didn’t electrocute myself?” he asks.
I keep my voice gruff, trying hard to contain all the emotions swirling inside me at the feel of Benji’s hand in mine. “Had to protect my investment in that boundary fence. The last thing I needed was you barbecued against the wire and me having to explain that to the insurance assessor. It was the neighborly thing to do.”
Benji ducks his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he squeezes my fingers. He shifts his weight, pivoting slightly until our knees touch through worn denim.
My breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat as something hot and electric zips up my spine.
The smugness growing in his smile makes me realize he’s completely aware of the effect he’s having on me.
“Remember the time you insisted on helping me dock lambs even though I said I could manage, then spent the whole time telling terrible sheep puns to keep me from worrying about the storm coming in?” I counter.
“It was the neighborly thing to do. And I object to your categorization of my puns as terrible. I’m pretty sure ‘I wool always be here for you’ is the height of comedic genius.”
I snort, but I’m fighting a losing battle against the smile tugging at my lips.
Benji leans slightly closer, his eyes catching the last golden light as if he’s gathering it just for us.
“Remember the time you kissed me on the riverbank?” he asks.
My forehead rumples. “I’ve never kissed you on the riverbank.”
“Oh well,” he shrugs. “Then I guess you better fix that. If you think it’s the neighborly thing to do.”
My pulse hammers against my throat and heat surges to my face.
Bloody hell.
I’m lightheaded, my body suddenly unsure how to handle wanting something it never knew it could have.
But I do as my neighbor asks me.
I lean forward and press my mouth to his.
Benji’s lips are warm and slightly chapped under mine, tasting of honey from his buns. My heart thunders, but his hand cups my jaw, steadying me.
Fuck.
It’s a gentle kiss at first, careful like we’re testing uncertain ground.
The stubble on his chin grazes my skin, sending a jolt through me that feels like touching an electric fence, except there’s no possibility of me pulling away.
Not when this kiss feels like coming home after a long day of working in the rain. Warm and right and somehow inevitable.
