“Why do you?—”
“Boy, don’t lie to me. I know when my sister is conspiring against me.”
He raises his hands in defeat, leaning against the shed door with his sexy, worn jeans and boots. Never in my life have I found ranch attire sexy, but then, this man shows up.
“She’s just worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
He looks around. “What happened here?”
I sigh. “My brain couldn’t keep up with all the stimuli, and now, I have too much of a mess, and I don’t even remember where I was supposed to start and where I’m supposed to end and everything is really overwhelming, and I was going to play capture the flag, but I also don’t need to do that. I just remember all the times I played it as a kid and how much I loved it, and maybe the kids can do that, to revamp the camp, you know? Lilly needs help with the schedules, and I’m actually really good with attention to detail if I don’t have distractions, but my entire life is a distraction and?—”
“Riley,” he groans, right in front of me. When did he even move?
“What?”
“Breathe,” he whispers, his hands on my shoulders. I waspacing, I’m out of breath, and this mountain of a man is grounding me effortlessly. I should call my therapist and tell her all I needed was a grumpy, pain-in-the-ass hot neighbor.
I let out a breath. “Sorry. It’s a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day in my brain.”
“It’s okay, Alexander. Let’s figure this out.”
I beam in excitement. “You know Alexander?” I can’t believe we have so much in common. Even if we’re not the same in big ways, we are—the details, the things that count the most.
“Everyone knowsthatbook. It’s a classic.”
“It was my favorite book as a kid.” He guides me out of the shed into the bright, sunny, perfect day. He kisses my cheeks, making me feel lighter immediately.
“Take your shoes off,” he commands.
I’m too lost, focused on how it feels to be under the midday warmth, feeling the gentle breeze in my face. All I shout is, “What?”
“Take them off.” His raspy tone elicits a response that is too natural when it comes to him. I’m always either on edge or turned on by this man, sometimes both at the same damn time.
He doesn’t waver, just stands in front of me, hands on my shoulders, and although his eyes are hidden behind dark glasses and the shadow of the New York Monarchs baseball cap he traded his usual cowboy hat for covering the rest of his features, I shiver at the intensity behind his stare. I don’t need to look at his eyes to know he’s intense. And bossy. So bossy. I like it, though, so I do as he says. I slide my tennis shoes off, socks after.
His lopsided, barely there smile does the same to me as his tone. “Good. Now go walk over there.” He points to the clearing between the trees. “Stand on the grass for me.”
“Why?”
“You need to touch some grass. Literally.”
I chuckle but follow along, considering I believe him to be right. I do need to touch some grass. I stand and close my eyes, letting the sun, the breeze, and the magic of this place do its thing.My feet sink into the almost dry dirt; unlike early morning grass covered in dew, this one is crisp under my toes.
My breathing evens out, like the current of the river flowing so close, I can almost feel its fresh water on my skin, on my hair, kissing, touching, brushing every inch of me. This place speaks to my soul in ways nothing else does, if only I could sit down and listen for once.
“Feeling better?” Dom’s voice grounds me even more, putting this moment into perspective. He’s a wizard, I’m sure of it.
“Yeah, thanks,” I murmur, plopping myself onto the ground, completely lying down. “I need sunglasses, and I can’t find mine, and now my eyes are hurting. You wouldn’t know, with your perfect chocolate brown, but blue eyes and the sun are no go. The sun, oh, the sun.” I rest my hand on my forehead. “The damn sun. I need it, but it hurts. And I would really, really like to keep them, you know? My eyes, I mean. I wish we could trade.”
“No, those are too pretty for that,” he says, standing over me, shielding me from the sun, his damn perfect eyes holding my gaze.
“You can’t be saying things like that. You have a reputation to uphold.”
“What reputation?”
I smile, which earns me a curious look from his handsome face. “Of Mr. Grumpy Cowboy, of course.”
