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“You’ve got rats in here. A few mousers from the animal shelter would be good to have on the payroll.”
“I thought critters deserved to be here?”
Rowan laughed. “Those spiders belong in that meadow, Harrison. Rats, however, don’t belong in the greenhouse, or in any other buildings on this land.”
“Fair.” He leaned against a table. “I’ll mention it, though it’s a moot point if they’re planning to raze it.”
Rowan stiffened. The thought of this enchanted place being reduced to a pile of steel and broken glass made her feel sick. She righted a few tipped ceramic pots, pushed a bench back where it belonged, brushed a bit of potting soil from the edge of a table.
This place wasn’t hers to fight for. And right now, there were more immediate concerns.
“Let’s get this over with.” Rowan gathered her shirt up to her rib cage, tipped her hips forward, and folded down the waistband of her jeans to check her belly below the navel.
Harrison muffled a cough into his hand.
She beckoned him over. “I wasn’t kidding about checking for ticks. They’re orders of magnitude more dangerous than those orb weavers in the meadow, Harrison.”
Instead of moving closer, he turned his entire body away.
She laughed and let her shirt drop. “I’m not shy. You don’t have to avert your eyes.”
“Call me old-fashioned.” His voice was quiet.
“I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before,Dr.Brady.Check your own waist, and then come here and look at my neck.” She turned her back to him, lifting her hair.
Harrison was idle for another moment, but Rowan could feel his eyes on her skin. He quietly advanced. When he finally touched her, his fingers were gentle and deft in the hair at her nape, moving through the sensitive area with careful attention. The job could’ve been done in seconds, but he leisurely parted the curls there, taking his time. She pebbled with goose bumps from neck to knees.
It wasn’t a stretch to imagine one of his elegant, long-fingered hands between her legs.
Stop it.
Done with her neck, Harrison sighed and sank to a crouch behind her. As she lifted her shirt again, he slid a finger under her denim waistband, tugging it down to reveal her lower back. His thumb moved along the base of her spine and nudged below the top edge of her underwear, then back up again. Twice.
“Did you find something?”
Breathy. She soundedbreathyagain.
From Harrison: silence, punctuated with more silence.
“Harrison?”
His forcefully expelled breath felt warm across her skin. Then his fingers were gone. When he finally answered, his tone was rough. “No. Ah—a freckle.”
A cold void opened up behind her as he stood and turned away.
“Thanks. There are lots of those.” She dropped the hem of her shirt. “Freckles, I mean.”
“I noticed.”
The air in the greenhouse felt cloying. Rowan had started to sweat, and soon, the little curls at her hairline would dampen and spring outward in wild abandon.
“Am I good?” She caught the inside of her cheek between her molars and bit down hard.
“Perfect. Good. Yeah.” He passed a hand over his hair and scratched the back of his head.
She reached for him. “You need to let me do you now.”
Harrison bowed backward like she’d come at him with a burning brand. “I’m good.” He raised a hand to ward her off.
