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His mouth curled in a sneer. “Go back to your own country and leave my sister alone.”

Laverne gasped. “Beckett Manning, you mind your manners.”

“This guy dances on tables with women while my little sister is pining after him. Damn rockstar.” He might as well have spat on the ground.

“Is she pining after me?” From Beckett’s growl, perhaps I’d asked that a little too happily.

Not that I wanted Zoe in pain. Far from it. But I’d missed her so. Imagining she might miss me too was a relief.

Maybe I wasn’t too late.

Assuming Beckett didn’t squash my head under his size fifteen boot like an overripe grape.

“Also, as for the table…incident, I’d had a bit too much to drink. I wasn’t dancing with women. I was dancing alone. And almost as soon as I got up there, I got down. Because of Zoe. How could I want any other woman after having her?”

“You better not be talking about sex with my little sister, British boyo, because I’ll—”

“Beck, for God’s sake. Zoe is a grown woman with needs. Just as you have needs.”

Beckett looked skyward and lifted his folded hands to his mouth as if he was praying. “Not now, Aunt Laverne. I can’t with your sex talk.”

“He’s too repressed,” Laverne said in a whisper that so wasn’t. “Forgive him. I think the hot sun might play a role too.”

Beck dropped his hands and gave me a hard stare. “I will end you if you touch my sister again.”

I took a deep breath before nodding and stepping forward and lifting my fists. “Then have at it, because I intend to do more than touch. I want her to be mine forever.”

Beck frowned then looked past me to his aunt. “Who is this guy?”

“Ian Kagan. I thought you knew who I was.” Then I cleared my throat. “Ahh, I see, that was a rhetorical question. And no, it’s not because I’m British. I’m quite offended that everyone thinks that. A person’s country of origin doesn’t define them.”

Never mind that I’d been conceived in the States. Irrelevant.

“That was my second guess. The first was that your baby ponytail was too tight.” With a disgusted sigh, Beck picked up his pail and stomped off.

I dropped my fists and turned toward Laverne, who was smiling at me. “Well, that went well.”

She patted my arm. “Don’t let the brute put you off. He’s more bark than bite. Usually. Besides, he’s had all his shots.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Come now, time for the best part of the tour.”

Side by side, we walked past the growing apple trees nearing maturity. We seemed to walk forever, but that might’ve been impatience talking. When the barn came into sight, I frowned. It was alone, off to side. Almost put there as an afterthought.

“This area gets good light. Something all artists need. What about you?”

“I’ve created in dark all my life.” Hearing myself, I let out a self-conscious laugh. “That sounds far too emo—”

“It sounds like truth. She sees you, you know. Kindred spirits.”

I swallowed as we walked through the newly cut, lush green grass toward that isolated barn. She was in there, I could all but feel it.

My heart was beating in time with hers already.

“Not sure she’d like that assessment.”

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