The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(19)

Once upon a time, he’d been tall and skinny to the point of gauntness. But Ann had nurtured him to good health with her home cooking and abundant and overflowing love, just as she had for every single kid she’d ever taken in.

Garrett had spent his teenhood as the third musketeer to Brooke and Mindy. At first, Mindy had crushed on him, privately lamenting his cluelessness to Brooke. Given how many girls Garrett had gone through during his Dumbass Boy years and how smart he’d been, Brooke had always known he’d never been clueless. But she’d played the game with Mindy so her sister hadn’t been forced to face her first real rejection.

Then Linc had stepped up and claimed Mindy’s heart, and that had been that. Mindy’s friendship with Garrett had adapted, and become much more real. It wasn’t until one night during the summer after Brooke had graduated from high school that her friendship with Garrett had adapted and taken on a whole new level.

They’d both agreed it was a one-time thing.

Especially since she’d been gone for long stretches of time for work, which was anything but work in her mind. Photographing the wild adventures of thrill seekers, she’d been sent on assignments with little more than a camera around her neck. It’d been heaven on earth.

And okay, yes, when she’d come home between gigs, she and Garrett had had another “one-time” thing. And then another. And so on, until it became a joke between them. But it had allowed them to keep their emotions in check. Until it didn’t. By the time she was twenty-one, she’d realized Garrett was one of the few real things in her life, that he actually grounded her in the very best of ways, and she’d started to wonder . . . could they ever make it work for real?

Turned out that the question was moot, because she’d gone on to screw up and destroy everything.

Clearly not bogged down by the same memories, Garrett continued to wield the ax without so much as glancing at her or slowing down, which was actually an incredibly difficult thing to do. His sleek muscles bunched and released fluidly with every movement. The boy had turned into a man, and she wasn’t above taking the time to appreciate that and his current rangy, cut look. He hadn’t gotten that way in a gym, either. Nope, that body was born of years of manual labor and the heavy lifting required to build and renovate homes with your own two hands.

The cats were riveted, and so was she. He’d had some ink done. Bold black roman numerals across one pec, just above his heart. There was more script around his right biceps, and then just above that was the outline of rolling hills dotted with oaks. It signified Wildstone, she realized, betting that the numbers were the longitude and latitude of the town.

The afternoon sun slanted in through the barn’s windows and the doorway in which she stood, giving the air a golden halo-y effect. Dust and wood particles floated around Garrett, landing on his shoulders, chest, and arms. This didn’t appear to bother him in the least as he moved, seemingly oblivious to anything around him.

But she knew that wasn’t true. He was never oblivious to anything. He knew she was there. It used to be that she could tell whenever he was near as well. She’d feel a shift in her force field in the form of goose bumps and an undeniable longing running through her veins.

He knew she was watching. He either didn’t care or couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge her.

She knew she should walk away, but she didn’t. She continued to watch, and even from the distance she could see the roughness of his hands as he raised the ax high above his head and slammed it down powerfully, easily splitting a log. The sound reverberated off the barn walls and rang loudly in her ears.

“You should move back,” he finally said, picking up another log and dropping it on the block. “This stuff flies everywhere.”

“I’ve gotten dirty before.”

He looked up from his task, the intensity of those hazel eyes still as piercing as ever, his expression unreadable. His body wasn’t the only thing hard about this man. His heart was hardened, at least to her.

When she didn’t move back as suggested, he merely shrugged and swung the ax again. Wood shards flew everywhere, hitting him in the chest and shoulders, but he carried on without a flinch. His skin shone with sweat from the exertion, and she bit her lower lip, remembering with sudden clarity what that skin tasted like under her tongue.

Suddenly, he tossed the ax aside. When he moved toward her, the air backed up in her lungs, even as unexpected hunger for him pooled inside her. Would he put those strong hands of his on her and pull her into him?

And what would she do? She had no idea.

No, that was a big, fat lie. She knew exactly what she’d do. She’d climb him like a tree.

With every step he took, her pulse kicked harder. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She looked at his mouth, knowing from experience that it would be both soft and hard, and suddenly she needed it on hers so badly she trembled. Once upon a time, her world hadn’t worked without him in it. But she’d learned to be okay without him. In fact, she was really good at being alone. But what she wouldn’t give for even an hour in his arms, knowing that he could make her forget all her problems. Hell, he could make her forget her name when he set his mind to it.

He stopped an inch from her, chest glistening. She could feel the heat pouring off his body and into her own chilled one.

“The kids?” he asked.

Her entire body tightened in anticipation of what that question meant. Was he asking if they were alone? “Still at camp,” she said breathlessly, and slowly lifted her eyes to his.