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Rowan shook her head and swallowed a swirl of anxiety. “You’re lucky I like you.”
She hadn’t been able to see Harrison and Arden from where she’d sat under the oak, but Colby maneuvered to them within a matter of seconds. By the way he’d looked at Arden earlier, he’d probably had a bead on her all night.
Faint surprise registered on Harrison’s face when Colby approached and tapped him on the shoulder. He gave Rowan a long, unreadable look.
“Mind if I cut in?” Colby said.
Harrison shifted his attention to Arden. Her answering blush was a gentle tint of rose on her golden skin, a pretty contrast to the blotchy red Rowan knew was beginning to stain her own.
“He doesn’t mind.” Arden gave Harrison a luminous smile and patted him on the chest.
Colby released Rowan and took Arden’s hand, and he spun her into a theatrical twirl. Harrison’s hair was glossy caramel under the gleam of lights, and windblown. He watched them dance away. “Did Colby Everett just use you as a distraction so he could dance with my sister?”
Rowan shrugged. “I guess you intimidate him.”
“He’s got fifty pounds on me. At least.”
“He’s squishy on the inside though,” Rowan said.
Harrison laughed. “So am I. He’s also not very smart if hethinks I’d try to influence anything Arden does. Or that she’d allow me to.”
A new song began. Harrison slid a finger into the collar of his shirt, scratched his neck, scanned the crowd boxing them in. Then he held out his hand. When Rowan took it, his shoulders relaxed. As he pulled her toward him, he rubbed his thumb lazily, intimately into her palm. By the way her body responded, it might as well have been his tongue across her nipple.
“Everett was right about one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Youarea distraction.”
Rowan met his gaze. Familiar heat simmered in her belly and dropped low, lower, settling between her thighs. She shivered.
“You cold?” he asked.
She nodded, though now the shudder was less about the chill and more about being inconveniently horny. Harrison pulled her closer, bringing them belly to belly. The heat of his hand against her back branded her skin through the fine knit of her sweater. His fingers slid along her vertebrae, like she was an instrument he was preparing to play. His thumb made a long sweep southward, from the dip of her waist to the flare of her hip bone.
It felt like foreplay.
By the damp heat between her legs, her body recognized it as such. Was he trying to get a rise out of her? Tormenting himself?
Both?
She set her teeth and thought about agricultural pests, fertilizer ratios, and the care and training of Katahdin sheep.
Casual.
Uncomplicated.
“You going to be here much longer tonight?” he said.
“I’m at Frankie’s mercy. She drove.”
“How long’s that drive? I haven’t been to Temperance’s place in the city yet.”
“About forty minutes, when I drive. When Frankie drives? Thirty. Twenty if she has to pee.”
“Ever think about staying with us once the weather turns? I assume roads are bad in the winter. Duncan says the cottage next to the greenhouse will be ready soon.”
“Hmm.”
