Page 23 of Anything for You
“It does. I mean, rude, because that’s hard, but it does.” She offered me a small wink, and we both chuckled.
“I think you’re doing a good job,” I said, wanting to giveher something. Needing to, since I could feel the way she ached, even from here.
Her lips pressed together, and she grimaced. “I don’t know about that.”
“You are. I don’t see everything, but I saw you yesterday. You were present. You were celebrating. Having other emotions but not letting them ruin your ability to be in a moment like that? You’re nailing it, Jensen.”
She laughed, a genuine smile spreading wide and creasing her cheeks. “Nailing it, huh? Well, you are, too. Kenny was so happy to have you there.”
I nodded. He’d sent me a text last night to say as much and I had no doubt he’d be reiterating that for a while. “Thanks for understanding when I left.”
But what I really should’ve said was,Thanks for knowing what I needed without me saying it. Thanks for being so observant. Thanks for being gentle with me, not making the moment harder than it already was. Thanks for taking a little of my load and telling my best friend I had to leave his wedding reception because I couldn’t tolerate so much input for so long. Just… thank you.
“Don’t mention it. No big thing,” she said, waving it away.
The impulse to argue and say it had been a big deal to me rose up, but I resisted. Part of accepting where I was now and where I’d come from was trying not to apologize for asking for what I needed or doing the things that allowed me to function.
Dr. Corrigan would be so proud. I’d likely tell her about this at our next session.
Wanting to get far away from my social limitations, I shifted forward and fiddled with Bear’s collar so I could ask as casually as possible, “Are you free today?”
Her movements on the swing halted. “I am. What do you have in mind?”
What did I have in mind?
Strangely, my heart thudded, almost dragged in my chest. An image of my hand on her face, my thumb taking her chin and tilting her just right, just how I wanted her, then dipping to capture her mouth flashed through me.
Shock followed instantly, and I cleared my throat, scrambling for something other than relaying exactly what I’d just had in mind. “Want to pick some blackberries?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dove
Adark, purply-black berry burst on my tongue, and the sweet, woodsy flavor made me sigh and give Dorian a dreamy look.
“How do you not just stand here and eat berries all day?” I asked, plucking a few more and watching them tumble into the small container he had given me before we walked to the edge of his property where the bushes grew with abandon.
“I’ve spent hours picking, for sure. I’m in more danger with the nectarine trees than the berry bushes, though.” He kept his focus on the dark green leaves and thorny branches of the bush in front of him.
It must’ve been because the veil had been torn from my face last night, but every time I glanced at him or even got very near him, my heart rate picked up. The conversation on his porch hadn’t helped any.
“You have nectarines? What else do you grow? And why did I think this was only a tree farm?” I glanced around as though I’d be able to see everything he grew on the acres of land.
“Mainly trees, but Templeton had a small grove of fruit trees, a moderate apple orchard, and then I’ve done some planting for other things I enjoy. Mostly vegetables. I’d like?—”
He cut himself off and frowned down at the berries in front of him.
“You’d like what?”
“I’d like to build a hothouse so I can grow during winter, too. Just haven’t had the bandwidth so far. Maybe next summer.”
I couldn’t quite read his expression. He had what I thought might be embarrassment for some reason, and a fair amount of surrender that this hothouse couldn’t come to be before next year.
“Is it a complex thing to build? Luis, the owner of Guac, has one in town for his avocadoes, so they must work okay around here. I have no other knowledge. But I did grow up with one near where I lived.” That sounded innocuous enough, right? “It was always my favorite place to go in the winter.”
“Where are you from?” he asked, reaching for a cluster of berries and pressing against a line of thorns.
“Idaho, mostly. We lived in New Mexico for a bit, but, yeah.” Without explaining more about my life, which I wasn’t about to do, there was nothing else to say. I liked that we were getting to know each other, but coming out of the gate withI was raised in a cult and after it was raided in New Mexico we had to move northjust didn’t suit the mood. “What about you?”
