He squeezed a dollop of antibacterial gel on his finger, grasped her ankle, and lifted her foot off the ground, pulling it closer. Her skin was soft, and the floral scent of lotion mingled with the smells of the forest, making for a potent combination.
The ankle supporting her wobbled on the soft earth, and she leaned back on the cushioned ATV seat. Holy shit, when she’d climbed behind him and wrapped her arms and legs around him, he’d had to recite backward from one hundred to keep his arousal under control. The woman was as beautiful and dangerous as a Venus flytrap, and he was the poor, dumb bug.
He dabbed a finger up and down each cut, methodically moving up her leg. The last scratch trailed a few of inches along her outer thigh. He skimmed a steadying hand up to cup her calf and applied the gel with the thumb of his other hand, wickedly allowing his fingers to caress the back of her knee.
Her leg trembled. Did she feel this inadvisable pull too? Desire shortened his breaths and quickened his heart. He wanted to tip her back, pull her legs apart, and discover exactly what her underwear looked like. Lace or cotton? Bikini-cut or thongs? Maybe even granny-panties? Honestly, he wasn’t picky.
Before he could do something that would have the pointy end of her stiletto buried in his eye, he let go of her leg and packed up the kit. Standing, he rubbed his hands down his pants and stared up at the blue sky. Fluffy white clouds passed over the sun and offered a respite from the heat.
“So,” she drew out. “How far are we from a road or house?”
“As the crow flies? Only about five miles from the homeplace.”
“Homeplace?”
“My grandmother’s house. My house now, I suppose, but I still think of it as hers. Sometimes, I swear the smell of her blackberry cobbler wakes me up.”
“You learned to cook at your grandmother’s knee? That’s sweet.” Her smile was wistful.
“Hate to shatter my image, but not at Ada’s knee.”
“Then where?”
He moved toward an old stump and kicked at it. Fire ants poured out, pissed and defensive. “I got into some trouble when I was seventeen. My punishment was to attend a wilderness camp for troubled youth. You know, one of those places that combines nature therapy with manual labor.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Got caught with pot, alcohol, cocaine. I swore I was framed, denied it was mine. Of course, the judge had heard it all before, and the truth was … it was mine.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Around town, he joked about his stint in juvie to deflect attention. But, it hadn’t been a joke then and still wasn’t. He was ashamed and regretful, partly for even going down the path, but even more for lying about it. “The camp therapist thought I’d wanted to get caught, did it for attention. Crazy, right?”
Silence. He risked a glance at her face, but no judgment clouded her eyes. Finally, she whispered, “Don’t we all have some crazy in us?”
Every moment that passed in her company strengthened his odd fascination with her. “Until you jumped on the back of my ATV, I didn’t think you had a smidge. Now I’m not so sure.”
She ducked her head, but her hair didn’t swing forward. It waved around her face, messy and windblown. She tucked a piece behind her ear and smoothed down the back. “I guess the camp got you straightened out.”
“It was less the camp and more the look on Ada’s face.” Any thought about straying off the straight and narrow after that day had been extinguished by the memory of the pain and disappointment and love etched in the troubled lines on his grandmother’s face. That was the first time she’d ever looked old to him.
Jessica hopped on one foot, leaned on the back of the ATV, and slapped at her calf. “Stupid ants.”
He backed her up a few paces, away from the stump of fire ants he’d riled up. “You got these little buggers in Virginia yet?”
“Nope. But, I’ll never forget stepping barefoot in a pile of them one summer at my ma-maw’s house.”
“Running around barefoot, climbing magnolia trees … are you a country girl at heart?”
She huffed a laugh, but her brow wrinkled and she didn’t actually smile. “Not really. I only got to spend part of my summers with her. Your grandmother raised you, didn’t she?”
“Yep. Darcy too. The best family anyone could ask for.” He looked up and blinked, the sudden sting of tears surprising him. It had been two years since Ada had passed on, yet in that instant, her loss was immediate and raw. “She left me enough money to start Adaline’s.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your parents?”
The way she asked made it clear he could safely tell her no, yet he found himself saying, “My mom died when I was too young to even remember her. I’ve only got stories Ada told me and pictures from when she was a kid, but she sounded like a really sweet person. My father … he lives up in your neck of woods. Washington, DC. We haven’t had contact for a few years now.”
“Is he a … mess?”
“He could have taken care of me if that’s what you’re asking, but I don’t really know what he’s like.”
Her curious gaze darted over his face. He looked away, the trunks of the trees blurring into a wall of brown. She cleared her throat. “Was your grandmother a good cook? Do you use any of her recipes besides the cobbler?”
Relief surged at the change in subjects. “She taught me to fry up a mean chicken, but the idea I could actually be a chef was planted at the wilderness camp. I was raised in these woods. I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit around singing “Kumbaya” and speculating about what kind of tree I thought I was, so they put me on KP. At first, I hated it. Stuck inside, scrubbing potatoes, peeling vegetables. Lucky for me, the man in charge of the kitchens was a local chef who volunteered a couple of weeks each summer. Once I showed an interest, he taught me about glazes, sauces, braising. You name it. Those kids had never eaten so good.”
“You left there wanting to be a chef, then?”
“Unfortunately, I left still an idiotic seventeen-year-old boy.” He grinned and shook his head. “But I stayed clean, kept my grades up, went to college, played as a walk-on on the football team, got a degree in business. After I graduated, I bounced around a few months before joining the army. It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. What about you?”
“Me?” She sounded shocked.
“Yes, you. Did your daddy groom you from the womb to take over the family business?”
She pushed off the ATV and walked into the meadow of flowers. The smile she aimed over her shoulder was tight and uncomfortable. She crossed from shadows into light, red sparking in her wild hair. He trailed behind her like an insect to a Venus flytrap.
Her eyes squinted in the bright sunlight, her makeup-free skin pale. He dropped his hat on her head. “You’re going to burn if you’re not careful.”
She pushed the brim up and tucked her hair behind her ears. His too-big hat emphasized her green eyes and made her look like a teenager. How had he thought her fierce? But then, she’d always struck him as a contradiction—hardened yet vulnerable, confident yet uncertain.
“Thanks.” She bit her bottom lip, the natural soft pink infinitely sexier than the harsh red lipstick she’d worn at dinner. “My father doesn’t think I’m capable of running Montgomery Industries. Actually, in his mind, no one is capable except for him. And he makes everyone affirm his greatness on a regular basis.”
“Sounds like a fun place to work.”
She didn’t acknowledge his irony or return his smile. Instead, her voice sounded weighed down by long-shouldered troubles. “It’s uber-competitive. By age ten, I knew I’d get my business degree at Georgetown and my MBA at Wharton. Can you imagine what my teacher thought when the other kids had dreams of being astronauts or ballerinas or football players?”
“Ambition is a good thing. Maybe you could lend me some.” Her seriousness made him veer toward joking, and he immediately regretted it.
She was silent for a long moment. While he searched for something to say, she said softly, “I wonder sometimes if it’s truly my ambition or my father’s.” Her voice turned stronger and no-nonsense. “Anyway, you don’t care, right? What are these little purple flowers called?”
He hesitated. Crazily, he did care. Her stellar legs had been a strong bait, but the vulnerability she flashed through her shell had hooked him good. He wanted to figure out what made her tick, wanted to discover her depths. But as soon as he refused the offer, she’d be gone from his life forever. Maybe he should tell her no, take her back to her car, and let her go.
His stomach clenched. Instead, he took the tiny flower from her hand and taught her how to identify the flowers and trees around them based on the shape of the leaves, and even pointed out poisonous and edible mushrooms. He led her around the meadow, the subject familiar and soothing.
The taut currents between them relaxed. Her shoulders dropped and the swing in her hips returned. Her smile was teasing and genuine. “You sound like a professor.”
“That’s code for boring. I’ll shut up.” He propped a shoulder against a live oak, picking at the bark.
“Not at all. It’s fascinating.” She stepped onto a patch of springy green moss and spun around. “Look at these mushrooms. They grew in a perfect circle.”
“You better watch yourself. The fairies might come and spirit a beauty like you away forever.”
“What do you mean?” She froze and stared at him. Her tongue darted along her lower lip before she pulled it between her teeth. His ball cap made her look young and innocent, while her skirt and blouse emphasized her grown-up curves and long legs.
He dropped his gaze to his boots and scuffed the moss. “Mushrooms that grow in a circle are called a fairy ring. The fairies lure mortals into their world through them. They especially like beautiful young women. Or so the stories go.” He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his nape. “You hungry? I’ve got some food packed. We could have a picnic.”
“Actually, I’m starving. I ran out of Lilliana’s before I had anything but coffee.”
“Come on then.” He almost reached out to grab her hand but instead stuffed his hands as deep into his pockets as they would go. Jesus, this wasn’t a date. She’d jumped on his ATV to manipulate him into a job.
He pulled an insulated cooler out of the duffle off the back of the ATV. He had plenty of food packed, fully expecting to be out in the woods a couple of days by himself. “Let’s sit in the shade against that log.”
After she had settled herself on a patch of moss, he handed her a sandwich. She lifted the top slice of bread. With a hint of surprise, she said, “Avocado and tomato? And what’s this spread? Not mayo.”
“My special sauce. Expecting spam or bologna, were you?”
She took his ball cap off and fluffed her hair, chuffing a small laugh. “I don’t know why, considering you’re a renowned chef, but yes.”
She took a big bite and hummed, her smile one of delight. He leaned back, stretched his legs out, and crossed his ankles. Her obvious appreciation made him smile, and he wagged a finger in her direction. “A fried bologna sandwich is a completely underrated dish, by the way.”
Tension leeched out of him at her laughter. He would wait on her to bring up the offer. He closed his eyes and savored the food, letting his other senses catalogue the experience. Nature worked its healing magic on him even with an interloper. In fact, seeing her wide-eyed wonder in the meadow and hearing her exhilarated laugh on their ride had unexpectedly sweetened the day.
“That was so good.” The sexual husky near-moan popped his eyes open. The sandwich was gone, and she sucked on a forefinger with her eyes closed. A snapshot of her on her knees performing the similar action on him shot tingles to the appendage craving her undivided attention.
He pulled the cooler onto his lap. “I brought some cookies Darcy made. I’m not much of a baker to be honest.” He opened another baggie and offered her one of the chocolate chunk cookies. She took a bite, licking a piece of chocolate off her bottom lip. He swallowed air as her head tipped back in carnal enjoyment.
He wanted to kiss her. Bad. Why lie to himself? He wanted to fuck her. They were surrounded by wildflowers in a remote forest. Maybe she’d consider it romantic.
Or maybe she’d think he was an inconsiderate asshole. He didn’t have a condom, and besides the one sleeping bag, he had nothing to cushion her against pokey sticks and rocks. Anyway, a physical relationship, even a kiss, would muddle the already confusing dynamic pulsing between them. He picked up a twig and stripped away every scrap of bark, leaving it bare.
Slipping off her heels, she stretched her legs out and wiggled red-painted toenails. An expectant silence fell over them. He tensed, ready for her to mention the offer.
Leaving his hat on the ground, she hopped up and walked barefoot into the middle of the meadow, bending at her waist so the tops of the flowers brushed her palms. The afternoon sun glanced over the top of the trees and glowed around her body, lighting her hair like a forest fire. If he hadn’t lost his phone, he would have pulled it out for a picture. A chasm split open in his chest, a melancholy longing filling the void.
She glanced over her shoulder, a sweet smile on her face, and dropped to lie on the ground, the flowers swaying around her. Her voice, now aimed at the sky, drifted to him. “I could definitely sleep here tonight. Is this where you planned to pitch your tent?”
He joined her in the middle of the meadow and laid down next to her, close enough to touch her, but instead, he knitted his hands over his stomach. All he could see were the flowers, the tops of the trees, the sky … and her. Her face had softened as if the magic he’d always found in the woods had cast its spell on her too.
“You really think you could sleep out here? No tent. Dark as tar. Insects everywhere. Animals roaming, hunting, fighting. It’s not for the faint of heart.”
“As long as you were here, I wouldn’t be scared.”
Was that an invitation in her eyes, or was it his hopeful imagination? Before he could react, a bird cried overhead. A crow. Another joined the first, their calls falling on top of each other like two old biddies exchanging gossip. A half dozen more filled the trees around them holding a creepily beautiful conversation.