“Raider, no.”
Raider freezes halfway toward the basket of biscuits under the table. Slowly, very slowly, he sits.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You know those aren’t for you.”
His ears tilt slightly, like he is pretending to think about that.
Behind me, Gavin laughs. “He’s a working dog,” he says. “He needs fuel.”
“He already had two.”
“Three.”
I turn to stare at him. “You gave him another one?”
“He looked hungry.”
Raider’s tail thumps once against the ground like he agrees with Gavin’s assessment.
Typical.
The Saturday farmer’s market is already busy. Booths line the square, music plays near the fountain, and the air smells like coffee and fresh bread. Our table is piled with cartons of eggs, bundles of herbs, and jars of jam.
A wooden sign hangs from the front of the booth.
BENNETT-HOLT FARM -Protected by Raider
Gavin stands beside me, one arm resting across the back of my chair. Not in uniform today. Just jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves.
Still intimidating. Still handsome. Still the man who carried me out of the woods a year ago tonight.
I lean slightly into his side.
“You know,” I say quietly, “It used to be easier to sit behind this booth all day. Now, all I want to do is spend Saturdays in bed with my hot husband.”
He leans down, his mouth brushing my ear. “We can do that,” he murmurs. “Skip next week.”
I snort. “Absolutely not. My regulars would riot, and you know it.”
“Worth it,” he says easily.
I turn my head to look at him. “You’re just saying that because you want me all to yourself.”
“You’re tempted. Admit it.”
Heat blooms low in my belly, the same way it did that first night. Some things, it turns out, don’t fade. They just settle deeper.
Raider chooses that moment to inch one paw toward the biscuit basket again.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn.
Gavin doesn’t even try to hide his grin.
A customer steps up to the table, and I shift forward automatically, slipping into my usual rhythm. “Morning! What can I get for you?”
“Two dozen eggs and a jar of that strawberry jam, please.”
“Excellent choice,” I say, reaching for the cartons.
