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But then he’d seen her face in the glow of the moon, and suddenly, it wasn’t about winning the game anymore.
An extraordinary face. Her features were too ineffable and unique to merely be calledbeautiful. A galaxy of freckles spread across her nose and cheeks, dense enough to be visible even in the relative darkness. The most sensual mouth he’d ever seen had panted with exertion after the chase.
Harry swiped a hand across his own mouth, wishing he’d brought a drink with him.
If he’d been in remotely better shape, he’d have chased her again when she’d run into the vineyard. But after losing nearly twenty pounds of weight and muscle tone over the last six months—along with his laughably poor nutrition—he’d been breathless evenbeforeshe’d grazed his junk with her knee.
The stars had shifted noticeably westward in the night sky when he felt the dock dip hard behind him. Harry turned. A raspy voice softly muttered,“Shit,”and a silhouette with a nebula of wind-stirred curls came onto the dock, arms spread like a tightrope walker.
Rowan.
For a moment, he considered lurking in silence. Maybe she’d leave after a few minutes. But when the dock swayed harder, and she crouched low and squeaked out an “Ooop,” he stood. The only thing that would make this more awkward was if she took a drunken header into the water and he had to jump in after her.
Harry sighed inwardly and stood. “Pool’s closed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Harry
A wordless rush of surprised sound escaped her and she sat back hard, making the dock sway side to side. Wine sloshed out of an open bottle top.
Harry bent at the waist as he approached to keep his center of gravity low, and managed to make it to her without dumping them both into the murky water.
Her legs were splayed out in front of her like a rag doll’s. She held up a hand, palm out. “Damn it,” she said. “Once my head stops spinning, I’ll go.”
“Not necessary. Plenty of room for both of us.”
She made a soft, grumbly sound.
They sat in silence, and the rocking eased.
She held up a mostly full bottle of wine and crisscrossed her legs under her. “I’m working on drowning something, see? Might be sorrows, might be boredom.” Her words were syrupy, as fluid and dark as the water around them. “I guess I can share.”
“Ah, I’m afraid what ails me is far beyond what that bottle of wine can cure,” Harry said.
“Won’t know unless you try.”
Backlit by the glittering lights of the party, her gaze was compelling and direct. Her feet were bare. Harry noticed her toenails were unpainted and charmingly, perfectly rounded.
“Where are your shoes?”
She flexed her toes. “Took ’em off. I hate shoes.”
“Why are you out here alone?”
“Why are you?” she deflected.
Harry responded with a quiet smile. Rowan picked at the edge of the bottle’s label. They both turned their attention to the water. A reflected beam of moonlight bisected the surface, pointing like an arrow straight toward them.
She answered first. “Alone is my favorite place to be.”
“Ah, maybe I’m the one who should go?” Harry moved to stand, and the dock tilted sideways again. His thighs tightened.
“No, no. You were here first. I hate small talk, though. Don’t small-talk at me.” She sighed, and her posture shrank a bit, like she’d shed some invisible outer armor. Securing the bottle between her legs, she leaned back on her palms, shaking out her hair behind her. When she turned her face up to the sky, moonlight slid along her jaw and cheekbones.
“Not a fan of small talk either,” he said. “This is actually one of the longest conversations I’ve had with another person in about three months.”
Her head tipped down. “After the first hour of a party, I usually start hiding out in bathrooms.”
