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He blinked, squeezed his eyes shut, and blinked again. “Ah—only one person left on your team. One person who hasn’t been caught yet.”
The hand on her elbow tightened, and it boomeranged her back to reality.Shewas the one person left. Rowan tried to pull away.
“I caught you, fair and square.” The guy laughed, tugging her toward the hill leading down to the campfire. “I’m not letting you go.”
Like hell.
She could win this for her team. Her, the rookie. It was childish, it was petty, but she wanted—needed—to feel in control ofsomethingtonight.
Rowan thrust her knee upward. It glanced across his thigh, just missing his balls. Surprised breath whooshed out of him, and his free arm noodled like a faulty parachute cord. She overcorrected as she pulled away, tripping backward and bouncing hard on her ass. The impact sent a bolt of pain up her spine and into her skull.
For a few silent seconds, they faced off, each with the wind knocked out of them. The guy was fixed in place, body bent at the waist, hands planted on spread knees. His eyes ignited in the gauzy moonlight.
“Christ, woman. It’s just a game,” he croaked.
Rowan felt like a clown. What could she say now?
“Nice to meet you, sorry I have the manners of a feral cat.”
“Sorry, I’ve had a really bad week and really need to win this children’s game to salvage what’s left of my self-esteem.”
“Sorry about my knee, do you still want to kiss?”
Instead, she opted for awkward silence and scuttled backward like a crab, then pushed to her feet.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice was sandpaper on sandstone.
Rowan flexed her toes, priming her body to flee.
“I’m the one winning this game,” she said, and ran.
CHAPTER TWO
Rowan
Rowan managed to hide in the western vineyard until the clock ran out. In the next round, her team secured the win by finding all the Bradys within the first fifteen minutes.
Everyone gave her credit for the victory. She was high enough on adrenaline and a fresh glass of wine that she managed to weather her newfound popularity gracefully, surprising herself by small-talking with strangers and only hating it a little bit. People from both teams congratulated her, toasting her as they walked by, patting her on the back, giving her shoulders a good-natured jostle. She hadn’t been touched so much in years.
Maybe never.
Once the game ended, Greenhouse Guy was conspicuously absent from the rekindled revelry around the bonfire. Rowan scanned the crowd for his tall, sharp-shouldered form. At one point, she found herself alone with someone’s elderly aunt, who hoarded an entire platter of bacon-wrapped dates and lamented seasonal allergies. When Rowan had offhandedly mentioned that pollen was plant sperm, the old lady looked at her aghast, as if Rowan had licked each of the hors d’oeuvres and placed them back on the tray. Then the woman scurried away with her contraband appetizers, leaving Rowan alone at the edge of the crowd with a renewed loathing for small talk.
Later, she found Temperance standing under a halo of paper lanterns suspended from the lower branches of a huge sugar maple. Her friend’s pale hair was in a twist so smooth it shone like a mirror under the lights. A single dimple notched her cheek as she summoned Rowan over.
“I barely know what to do with myself in the presence of a newly minted Team Tag legend.” Temperance pushed tortoiseshell cat-eye glasses up her nose. “Everyone is talking about you.”
A pediatric resident in Philadelphia, Temperance Jean Madigan—T.J. to friends and family—had a heart as big as a mountain, but she was outwardly stoic and elegant. Some people assumed she was cold, but really, T.J. was an adrenaline junkie with a corny sense of humor, and any perceived aloofness was simply her steadfast refusal to deal with anyone else’s bullshit.
Rowan groaned. “I’m going to need to sleep for two days after this. Being social is exhausting.”
“You’re doing fine.” Temperance clinked a tumbler of gin and tonic against Rowan’s wineglass. “Thank you for not wearing one of those plant pun T-shirts tonight, by the way.”
Rowan sniffed. “I think myPARTY THYMEshirt would have been perfectly appropriate.”
Temperance hummed a noncommittal sound and crunched a piece of ice in her teeth. “Harry’s here tonight. I can’t wait for you to finally meet him. He got here late.”
Late.
