Page 52 of Guarded from Havoc

Once he opens the gate, his hand rests at the small of my back as we pass through it. The same rush of electricity explodes through my body, just as it did the last time he touched me.

For a moment, my mind splits. One part is still focused on the meeting and the terrible possibilities it exposed. But theother wanders to a more wistful place. A place where Erik and I had those sandwiches back at his cabin. Where we talked all night, those initial sparks I felt when I first met him growing. Where we decided to meet up the following night for a real dinner, and maybe we even kissed before I went home. Where we talked about staying in touch after he left, and just maybe?—

“This might seem strange,” Erik says, jerking me out of my fantasy. “Having the garden as my favorite place. My friends all like the woods better. Lucy has a little writing cabin in there, Sarah and Dante love the pond, Niall and Jade like taking walks on the trails, and Rhiannon and Hawk—you haven’t met him yet, but he used to serve in the Green Berets, too—are always going for long runs around the property.”

I glance around at the neat rows of tomatoes and zucchini and clusters of at least six kinds of herbs. Beyond them, further into the garden, is a section of lush flower blossoms in nearly every color of the rainbow. Breathing in, I catch hints of mint and rosemary mixed with the heady scent of roses and hydrangeas.

A wooden bench sits at the very end of the garden; the perfect spot to rest after digging in the soil, to taste one of the ripe tomatoes, or just appreciate the results of hours of labor. Adjacent to it is a potting bench with neatly stacked pots and several watering cans hanging from it.

Who comes out here to garden? Sarah, possibly? Since she’s apparently the cook of the bunch, along with Dante, it makes sense that she’d want to grow her own herbs and vegetables. Or maybe Lucy uses the garden to grow ingredients for her herbal teas, using her freshly grown peppermint in the tea she left me.

“It’s very relaxing out here,” I tell Erik honestly. There’s just something about being out here, surrounded by so much color and vitality, that makes my anxiety ease even more. Inside, it was hard to take a full breath, but out here, it’s impossible not to.

“It is,” he agrees. Bending down, he touches one of the tomatoes, testing it for ripeness. Then he plucks it off the vine and holds it out to me. “This is a Celebrity tomato. It’s a kind of beefsteak tomato. It holds up well in the heat. And it makes great tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches, if you like them.”

At Erik’s words, my thoughts reshuffle into something I wasn’t expecting. “Did you plant them? The tomatoes, I mean?”

Twin spots of pink appear on his cheeks. Ducking his head, he replies, “I planted all of it, actually.”

“You did?” My voice rises in disbelief. A beat later, I grimace. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just wasn’t expecting…”

When Erik’s gaze rises to meet mine, vulnerability has replaced his usual confidence. “I know. People look at me and they’d never imagine. This ex-military guy with muscles and tattoos spending his free time gardening. A lot of people I know—not my teammates, but other guys I used to serve with—would think it’s weird.”

My heart pinches at the uncertain look in his eyes. At the dull flush still coloring his cheeks. Without thinking, I catch his hand in mine. “No. It’s not weird. At all.”

His hand stiffens. My stomach drops.

What was I thinking? Just because Erik held my hand on the island and during the meeting doesn’t mean he wants it to become a regular occurrence. Before, he was protecting me. Comforting me. But now…

Then his fingers curl around mine, and everything feels okay again.

No. More than okay. Pretty darn good, actually.

Erik tugs me further into the garden and over to the bench, waiting for me to sit before sinking down beside me.

He doesn’t let go of my hand. And I’m glad.

“I used to help my grandmother in her garden when I was young,” he says. “I spent a lot of time at her house, growingup, since it was just my dad taking care of me. And she loved to garden. Mostly flowers, with a few herbs scattered around. She wanted to plant things that would make her smile when she looked at them.”

An image of a young Erik flashes in my mind. His hair lighter back then, maybe even blonde, with a little cowlick at the top of his head. His knees and hands brown from the soil, cheeks pink from the sun, following his grandmother around the garden like a cute little assistant.

Warmth fills my chest. Envelops my heart and squeezes.

Protectiveness surges.

It’s the strangest thing. Looking at Erik, you’d never think he needs protecting. But for some reason, I can’t help feeling like he does. And like I’m the one who’s supposed to do it.

“I bet you were cute,” I blurt out. A beat later, I inwardly cringe.

Did I really just call Erik cute?

He chuckles. “Dirty, more like it. But I enjoyed helping her. Then we’d cut some of the flowers and make little bouquets to bring to her neighbors.” His expression softens. “Those were good days. Going to her house when my dad had to work.”

Before I can respond, he continues, “That’s why I keep flowers in the garden. Because they remind me of her. At first, they just sat here. But then Jade moved in, and Sarah, and Lucy and Isla—so it was nice that they could have flowers in their apartments whenever they wanted.”

Oh.

I barely stop myself from clutching my heart.

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