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“Oh, whatever.” I gave him a shy smile. “Always?”
His hand dropped to shake off the leather glove before his hand tangled in my hair at the base of my skull. His green-gray eyes drilled into me. “Always.” His voice was molten and thick. “Far longer than I had any right to.”
“How long?” My question was barely a whisper.
Lee took another step, crowding my space and pressing his hips to mine. “I feel you before you even step into a room. I know your perfume from two klicks away. You’re the voice in my head when I’m not sure what to do.” His other hand gripped mine and pressed it into his chest. His heartbeat pounded through his shirt and into my palm. “There’s nevernotbeen a time where you haven’t taken up space. Right here.” His hand tapped mine.
I love you. Oh my god, how much I love you.
Emotion lodged in my throat, and I pressed my eyes closed. “I never thought...” I tried to find the words—to tell him that for me, it hadalwaysbeen him. I took a breath and lifted my chin. “Lee, you need to know that when Margo and I—”
“Don’t do that.” His features darkened. He took a step back, opening a cavern between us and filling my stomach with dread. His hand raked through his hair, sending its ends in a thousand different directions. “Don’t do what everyone in this goddamn town does and make this about her.”
“There is no distance between your heart and mine.” I looked into his eyes and willed him to know. To understand.
The muscles in his jaw worked, and he took another step back. “It’s getting late. I should get you home.”
Without looking back, Lee turned and left me staring after him, alone with my mounting regrets in the dusty old barn.
TWENTY-SEVEN
LEE
The sixth andfinal date for the Matchmakers' Gala auction dates was finally here. On the outside, it would seem like the farmers’ market was the least exciting date, but I was simmering with anxious nerves. I had been busy all week with work and my dad and helping Tootie, so by the time Saturday morning rolled around, I was aching for Annie.
The intensity of our interaction in the barn was still clinging with me. I’d nearly gotten on my knees for her and told her how punched-in-the-gut in love with her I was. Instead, I’d shut her out as soon as Margo’s name passed her lips. More and more, it was like my memory was playing tricks on me. I’d never had any issues keeping the two women separate in my mind, but the closer I got to Annie, the more she and Margo got so tangled in my head that I felt like I was losing my goddamned mind.
Why would she ruin the moment by bringing up my dead ex-girlfriend?
Trying to ignore the strange, uncomfortable feelings I was having, a few times the past week I had sneaked away to pop into Sand Dune Studio. Each time I’d used my spare minutes to give Annie flowers or drop a kiss on that lush mouth of hers. I had never been so head over heels, but I didn’t give a fuck. For once the happiness I radiated on the outside wasn’t all show. It was an accurate reflection of how I was finally feeling on the inside.
She did that.
I had also sent Annie on a wild-goose chase just as I went to pick her up for the market. I claimed there was something in Highfield House that Lark needed and bought myself a good fifteen minutes while she searched in vain. It was the perfect opportunity for me to hide all one hundred tiny resin ducklings in the apartment. They were numbered, so it was sure to throw her into a tizzy trying to find all of them.
The sheer genius—the stupidity—of it had me giggling to myself.
“What’s so funny?” Annie asked, bursting through the door as I slid the silverware drawer closed.
“What? Nothing.”
She raised an eyebrow, and her glance sliced to the drawer for the briefest second, but she let it go. “I couldn’t find the purse you said she wanted, and when I texted Lark about it, she didn’t know what I was talking about, so...” Her hands dropped to slap her thighs. “I give up.”
I shrugged and looked at my watch. “We need to go. I’ve got a date to take you on.” I gave her a playful wink and enjoyed the way her cheeks pinked.
A vibrant charm seemed to radiate from every nook and cranny of the Outtatowner farmers’ market. I gripped Annie’s hand as we ventured beyond the quaint downtown area and onto a side street alive with the pulsating rhythm of the market.
The air crackled with an energy that mingled the fresh tang of the nearby lake breeze, along with the earthy scent of freshly harvested vegetables. Sunlight, filtered through the swaying leaves of ancient maples, painted dappling patterns on the worn cobblestones beneath our feet. The vibrant stalls burst with an explosion of colors—ripe red tomatoes, golden ears of corn, and plump purple eggplants vying for attention, while baskets overflowed with vibrant blooms of every hue, infusing the air with their heady fragrance.
“No stand for you today?” I asked as we headed toward the table where the Bluebirds were checking auction couples in.
Annie smiled but was still lost in thought. “Mel is running it today, but we can check in on her.”
I frowned. Even though something was still off, I was determined to get us back on track with this date.
“My favorite couple!” Tootie smiled as she pulled Annie into a hug, rocking her back and forth. “Not that I am allowed to show favoritism.” She winked at me over Annie’s shoulder. Annie squeezed her back, and Aunt Tootie moved to search through an expandable file folder. She removed a white envelope. “For you two.”
Annie examined the envelope before slipping her finger under the seal to open it and pulling out a slip of paper. “Ananonymous sponsor”—her eyes flicked to Tootie, who wore a shit-eating grin—“has bought us pastries and coffee from the Sugar Bowl, along with a bouquet of flowers.” Annie flipped the card for me to see.
