Page 26 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“I’m glad you came,” he said, his mouth curling into that crooked grin. “They were taking bets on whether or not you’d show, you know.”
“I didn’t, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Which way were you leaning?”
His grin widened. “I never bet against Rose.”
Warmth pooled in my core, and butterflies took flight in my belly.
“This place is great,” I managed.
“I think so, but I’m biased. Would you like a tour?”
My heart pounded out a thump-stutter rhythm that was probably the Morse code equivalent of,Yes, please, and thank you. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Not until the hayride. Come on.” He held out his hand to assist me off the hay bale. When I made no move to take it, he said, “I mean, since you’ll be leaving soon and all …”
Damn it, he was right. This might be the only chance I had to spend time with him before I left. And it was just a tour. With lots of people around. Nothing was going to happen.
“All right.”
I took his hand, and the moment his strong fingers curled around mine, I felt warmth flowing into me from the point of contact. Not the surface warmth you felt when you touched another warm body, but the kind of penetrating heat that wrapped around you on the inside and spread, like a hug.
I glanced up at Steve, and based on the widening of his eyes, he’d felt it too.
Everyone and everything around us faded into the background. Even time seemed to pause.
Yep, I know. Weird. But true nonetheless.
My body started leaning toward his, totally without permission, as I was mesmerized by those sparkling gold flecks. It would be so easy to get lost in those depths. Something told me that if I did, I’d need more than a GPS to find my way out.
Thankfully, a roar of laughter from somewhere beyond brought me back to my senses.
I took a step back, reclaimed my hand, and shoved both hands into my pockets.
“Come on,” he coaxed again. His voice sounded huskier than it had before, though that might have just been my imagination. “I promise to behave, no matter how tempted I might be to do otherwise.”
He was giving me that crooked smile again. The tingles in my fingers spread to other places.
Lord help me, I’m not sure I can promise the same.
“I can only hope,” Steve murmured, and I realized I hadn’t just thought those words, but I’d said them aloud.
Mortification ensued.
I clamped my lips together, dropped my gaze, and began walking toward the exit. I didn’t have to look back to know Steve was right behind me. I could feel his presence.
Thankfully, I did manage to restrain myself, and Steve went back to being the easygoing, soft-spoken gentleman. He didn’t touch me again, but remained close enough that one misstep was all it would take to make contact. I was ashamed to say, I considered tripping accidentally on purpose multiple times over the course of the next thirty minutes.
That was what being around this man did to me. Made me think crazy things and contemplate aberrant behavior.
The temperature had cooled off just enough, making it perfect for a leisurely stroll. A heaviness hung in the air that had nothing to do with my proximity to Steve and everything to do with the approaching storm front that would put an end to the unseasonably warm weather.
As we walked, Steve talked about his family and how the Zieglers had been working the land since before the Revolutionary War. From the warmth in his voice and the frequent smiles, it was obvious he cared about them very much.
I liked listening, but honestly, he could have been reciting the dictionary, and I would have enjoyed it. His voice was deep and soft, like velvet, yet smooth, like silk, and conveyed a depth of emotion beyond words. I liked the way it made me feel too. I could easily picture myself pressed against him, feeling the gentle caress of those strong fingers, while he talked in that calming, comforting purr.
He didn’t speak much about himself, which I found refreshing and contrary to personal experience. Most of the guys I’d dated—back when I actually did that sort of thing—talked about nothingbutthemselves. Their accomplishments, their prowess, their possessions. Angie used to say they were hardwired that way, that there was an innate, primitive biological belief that the caveman with the biggest club collection got to drag the girl back to his cave. The analogy always made me smile.
Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem opposed to answering when I asked the occasional question, which I also considered a check in the positive column. People who continually deflected usually had something to hide.
