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Rowan wanted to sink to her knees and disappear into the earth.
PASTEL SUNSET TURNEDthe world watercolor. A local band warmed up, and the plaintive vibrato of a single violin wove through the noise of the crowd. A dance floor of snap-together wood panels had been constructed in the north field, illuminated by string after string of vintage-style bulbs attached to four tall poles at the corners. Farther out in the field, a bonfire was lit, and the trace of smoke in the air cushioned everything in dreamy softness.
Near the dancing, Rowan found a quiet place in the grass under a big oak. Now that the sun had nearly gone, the autumn evening felt chilly. She wrapped her arms around her legs and notched her chin between her knees. Fallen leaves around her smelled musty-sweet and familiar, and the rippled bark of the tree felt oddly comforting against her back. The band kickedoff in earnest with a lively line dance, and Rowan watched the revelry from the periphery, thinking about Harrison.
The rasp of his stubbled cheek against her lips. The scent of his soap or aftershave, or whatever that sweet, lovely juniper came from. The essence of his skin, and the way his clothes always smelled sun-warmed. The intimate rumble of his laugh, and the way he made silence feel comfortable. How his breath had somehow become familiar.
The way he’d scrubbed away the trace of her kiss, then tasted the very same spot with a quick, questing tongue. How his blue-gray eyes went black when he looked at her, and how his attention always tracked to her mouth.
Damn it.
All efforts to logic herself out of her attraction to Harrison Brady were crumbling. She needed to get laid, that’s all it was. Managing her own release with her utilitarian vibrator was no replacement for skin against skin, and solid male hips between her legs.
Sweet kisses in sunlit fields were not it. Rowan had given up onsweeta long time ago.
Temperance’s words scrolled through her memory like a news ticker.“Rowan likes casual and uncomplicated,”she’d said to Frankie that night at Buddy’s.“I promise you, Harry is neither of those things.”
The parts of Harrison Brady that were sensitive and exposed were the same ones within Rowan that were callused over and impenetrable. There was more than simple lust in his eyes when he looked at her. Not that anyone had ever looked at her like that—but instinct told her it was not the gaze of a man who would be satisfied with casual sex.
Anyway, she worked for his family now. God, Gianna had spenthourswith her last week, talking about perennials and herfavorite eye creams and design plans for the bed-and-breakfast, and dozens of other mundane things. That uncomplicated, effortless camaraderie with the other woman had just felt so,sogood.
Rowan pressed her forehead into her knees, hard enough to make it hurt.
A few songs later, she was shivering in earnest and checking a text from Frankie when a big silhouette blocked out the light from the dance floor.
Colby squatted down to her level. “Hey. Doing okay?”
“Yeah. Waiting Frankie out. She’s got the car keys.”
“She’s dancing. You should come.”
“I can’t line dance. Big brain-body disconnect.” Rowan swirled a hand above her head. “I think it’s all this hair.”
As if on cue, the band eased into a slow song. Colby cocked his head to the side, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “Iknowyou can dance to this.”
Rowan narrowed her eyes. “You knew that was coming, didn’t you?”
He shrugged and grinned, then stood. “One of the perks of running the place. It’s warmer out there, you know. I saw you shivering.”
Rowan caved, brushing leaves from her jeans as Colby led her to the dancing. The band was good. Close bodies and lights strung above the dance floor generated a comfortable bubble of warmth. Colby was funny and plainspoken. Undeniably cute and a bit nerdy—more Bruce Banner than The Hulk. He chatted about vineyard business while they danced. Rowan couldn’t help but like him.
As the slow song flowed into a new one, he said, “I hope you’ll forgive me for this.”
“Oh no. What’s happening?”
He cleared his throat. “I had an ulterior motive, bringingyou out here. I need you to dance with Harry Brady so I can get a minute with his sister.”
“You bastard,” she laughed.
“I’m sorry.”
“So, you’re going to offer me up as some kind of trade?”
Colby grimaced. “When you say it out loud, it sounds really bad.”
“I’m your sacrificial lamb.”
“I’m a vegetarian, actually,” he said.
