Page 16 of Game On

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As near asNate could guess, Keely would have bolted straight for her van and floored the accelerator the moment they stepped out onto the front porch.

She darted past him in her khaki shorts and sleeveless blue blouse with the flower farm logo stitched on the pocket, her long ponytail fluffy from the humidity.

“Can we talk about this?” he asked, restraining the urge to reach for her again, to somehow slow her down.

But she’d reacted to the last brush of fingers like he might be carrying something communicable. He’d never had a woman respond to him the way she did, so damned prickly at every turn. It rankled since she was the only woman he could ever remember wanting to touch this badly.

All the time.

“About what?” She turned on a dime but didn’t come any closer, her back to the van as she waited for him to speak.

They were alone outside now. Though his mom’s farmhouse and garden were visible near the garage apartment, there was no sign of her or the dogs.

“About a time to tour your farm. Or your preferred next steps to resolve Everett’s concerns?” He paused a moment before adding, “Or, here’s a good one, about why you’d rather walk over hot coals than linger in my presence for a second longer than necessary?”

She blinked. Then sighed a little, her shoulders easing a fraction.

“I apologize,” she said, a bit stiffly as she stood in the shade of one of the big hickory trees that arched over his grandfather’s front lawn. “I’m stressed about the land gaffe and worried about how to solve it, but I realize that’s not your fault. I appreciate you being there just now.”

The admission was more than he’d expected.

And not nearly satisfying enough.

“That doesn’t begin to address why you’re always walking away from me.” He watched sunlight and shadow shift across her skin as the leaves stirred on the hickory from a breeze he couldn’t feel.

When she didn’t seem inclined to speak—because she didn’t know the answer herself or she didn’t care to share it?—he added, “We were friends once.”

He could tell he’d surprised her by the quick, unguarded look in her eyes, however brief. An acknowledgment that she remembered that time, too.

“I don’t think there’s any going back to friendship after you cross a certain line.” She hugged her arms around herself, the way he wished he could.

A futile thought considering she still hadn’t taken a single step closer to him as they stood too far apart on his grandfather’s lawn.

“According to who?” He scratched the back of his bandaged hand over his forehead, the surgical incision itching.

She shrugged. “It’s generally accepted relationship wisdom. You can’t go backward.”

Since when did they have to follow societal norms?

“So then we go forward. Start a new friendship.” He strode forward and held out his good hand. “I’m Nate Ramsey. Nice to meet you.”

“Honestly?” She didn’t take his hand, but he could have sworn he saw a tic that might be her suppressing a smile.

“Ma’am, I was told to expect old-fashioned Southern hospitality when I came to town. Are you going to leave me hanging?”

“You’re impossible.” Begrudgingly, she took his hand.

“No. I’m Nate.” He didn’t let go, tightening his hold just a fraction. “And I look forward to seeing Windy Meadows Farm whenever you have time to show it to me.”

She stared down at their clasped palms.

Her focus on where they touched made him hyper aware of her soft skin against his. Slowly, he became aware of her heartbeat where his fingers grazed her wrist. When he skimmed one finger lightly over that spot, her pulse quickened.

She let go.

“I’ve got some deliveries to make tonight,” she said quickly. “But if you want to meet at my house tomorrow morning, I’ll give you a tour.”

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