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His jaw clenched at how close he stood, so close her breath brushed at his hand and her citrusy-sweet scent enveloped him. A thick knot formed in his throat. She smelled like goddamn orange blossoms on a hot summer’s day.
Her hand rose, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. She narrowed her eyes, hinting that he needed to answer her question.
The handkerchief. Right.
“You never know when you’ll need one.”
Like wiping away fingerprints after a job. Not that I’ll admit that to you, lady.
He beamed at her, committing to the part of a friendly giant. Though he didn’t move, her honey-blond hair fluttered in the night breeze, that hair still a mess from their earlier collision, the wisps flying in a halo about her head and lending to her wild air.
He’d been told many times that he had an endearing smile. Hopefully, that smile would work right about now, when he wanted to keep her talking long enough for her to decide he was no one worth mentioning to her friends.
The woman’s fingers closed tighter at his wrist, the tinkle of jewelry drawing his attention to a chain bracelet jangling on her arm, the adornment fashioned with pointed gold leaves and probably how she’d cut herself.
He smiled wider. Useless dress. Useless jewelry. His useless thoughts of relieving her of both…
“Right.” Her flat tone gave little away. “Did you see two boys pass through here?”
Her gaze shifted to her surroundings, momentarily pulling the heat off him.
He made a show of looking about. “No. Why?”
“They threw rocks at me. I came out here to find them.”
An unexpected strain pulled at his brow, and he slammed his gaze back to her. “They threw rocks at you?”
Maybe he wasn’t all that qualified to judge, but of all the bad he’d ever done, none of it had been for mere entertainment.
“Well, they tried.” The muscles over the woman’s face eased, and the blush returned to her cheeks, like she verged on a smile. Maybe his concern hadn’t been all that expected. “But those Chadleys have always had terrible aim.”
His shoulders dropped, and his next breath landed deeper within his lungs. He took his hand from her collarbone and eased back, her orange blossom scent still taunting him from a distance.
He nodded to her scratch. “You’re not bleeding anymore, and those boys probably ran back to the party.”
He eyed the light red mark over the bridge of her straight nose, a souvenir from her face connecting with his chest. Just like the Chadleys, he’d seen her approach from a mile off. He could have stopped her before she’d crashed into him. Why hadn’t he?
His wayward gaze provided the answer, landing on her general lithe build, and then homing in on the tops of her small, pert breasts peeking out from her dress’s low neckline. The smooth, honeyed skin there evoked thoughts of silk, and peaches and cream…
Orange blossoms? Silk? Peaches and cream?
Somehow, she’d highjacked his brain, leaving him with a yearning to lean down and kiss her; but damn, her narrowed stare said he’d be a fool to try.
Strength and beauty, with this one. And the strength always comes first.
The woman cleared her throat, only slightly dousing the heat that rushed his body.
“You can still join the party.” She lifted her brows along with her posture, as if she noticed his staring and now toyed with him in showcasing the swell of her breasts.
A little witch in the best kind of way.
“Everyone’s dressed like fairies, but with your height, no one would think twice if you said you were an ogre.”
