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His grip tightened, and she could have sworn that his complexion turned a shade darker.
Harley glanced from his face to the book once more, then jumped to her feet as she grabbed the book from his grasp. He lunged for her, and she narrowly escaped as she turned the book over to see the cover. She caught a glimpse of a couple in the throes of an embrace, though they were clearly not residents of the earth as she knew it.
Mason charged forward, and she lifted the book over her head. Due to their similar heights, he was unable to reach for it with her quick movements. His dark, impatient gaze landed on her, inches away from her face. Chills swept through her body and the humor fled from her own expression.
“Please give me back my book,” he said through clenched teeth.
Slowly, she brought the book down and handed it over, though he didn’t move away. His scent overwhelmed her, making her feel safe and terrified all at once. The smell of the fresh hay overpowered the musk and mint, but it was surprisingly pleasant.
His eyes remained locked on hers. Each of them was breathless after their little chase. The warmth that emanated from his body was almost too irresistible. If he had been any other guy she had met in a bar somewhere, she might have toyed with him, teased him.
But that didn’t feel right.
Mason was different.
He was special.
When he finally took a step back, she released a sharp breath. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I know a lot of guys who read a variety of things. Sci-fi fantasy isn’t nearly as weird as you’re making it out to be.” Harley tossed the statement at him before she fled the room. There was no way she could meet his eyes. Not now. She needed to catch her breath and figure out what to do with her newfound attraction.
17
Mason
Mason couldn’t believe it. Harley was nothing like he’d expected when he’d met her at the spot where their properties converged. There was a depth to her that he wasn’t even sure she was aware of.
Over the next several weeks, Mason got to know Harley better and better. He even saw a side of her he quickly grew to admire. She left out a lot about how she was raised. All he’d gathered was that her mother was incredibly strict and that Harley had grown up with money.
Most of their conversations revolved around taking care of the animals and the work they had to keep up on. After their little chat about the book he’d been reading, she hadn’t pushed him on the subject again.
He continued enjoying his books in the living room after supper was finished, and occasionally she would join him, though she didn’t read. At first, he didn’t know what she was up to. She’d sit on the other end of the couch with her knees propped up with whatever it was in her lap.
But then he caught a glimpse of a small sketchbook and his curiosity got away from him. “You draw?”
Her eyes were the only thing he could see above her knees. “I draw,” she confirmed.
“What do you draw?”
Harley’s focus dipped to her sketchbook once more. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“It’s just that I’ve never seen you draw before.”
She didn’t respond to that statement, though he could imagine her smiling behind her little wall.
“You haven’t mentioned that you liked drawing,” he said.
“So, just because I haven’t talked it doesn’t mean that I can’t do it.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he muttered. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. I’ll leave you be.”
Once again, Harley didn’t bother responding to his statement. The room fell back into silence, but this time it wasn’t one that comforted him. This kind of quiet was heavy, pressing on him like he’d never experienced before.
He couldn’t take it. “What if I tell you about my books?”
Her eyes darted to him and she paused. Then, just as quickly, she returned to her sketchbook. “I know what you read.”
“No, you don’t.”
She flipped her book closed, dropped her knees into a cross-legged position and tucked her book into her lap. “You realize that I can just look up any author or book title online and find out exactly what you’re into, right?”
