Much Ado About You(11)

However, I’d barely made it three steps when Roane and Shadow fell into stride beside me.

I kept walking but shot him a “can I help you?” look.

“I really have to insist that you let me make reparations toward you on behalf of Shadow. He’d do it himself, but he’s shy around beautiful women.”

A huff of laughter fell from my lips at his flirtation. “That’s a shame. He’s very handsome.”

“I know, the bonny bastard is always stealing female attention away from me.”

Chuckling, I shook my head at his nonsense, watching my footing as we strolled past the harbor, in case I took another tumble. When my attention returned to Roane, his eyes were trailing across my face, seeming to linger on my mouth before our gazes locked. Flabbergasted by the interest he did not hide, I stumbled, my foot hitting a crack in the sidewalk.

Roane grabbed my bicep to steady me and I groaned, feeling my cheeks warm. “You must think I’m a klutz.”

“You took a tumble saving my dog,” he reminded me as he gently led me across the street, checking at his side to make sure Shadow was following. “How does that make you a klutz?”

It wasn’t what was making me a klutz. It was his intensity and open attraction to me.

An attraction I reluctantly returned.

“You can let go of my arm,” I said, giving it a gentle pull.

His fingers flexed for a second before he released me. Shadow squeezed between our legs and started to trot in front of us. “Stay close,” Roane said, and Shadow’s ears twitched at the command.

“I don’t normally throw myself out in front of cars to save dogs,” I confessed, not wanting some idea that I was a champion of animals to give this guy the wrong impression of me. If he was feeling misguided hero worship, I wanted to nip it in the bud so I could go back to swearing off men. “Shadow is the spitting image of my dog Duke. I had him until he was nine years old and he . . . well, he came into my life as a puppy, just when I needed him. I was fifteen when he died.” That tight ache in my chest flared anytime I thought of Duke. I cleared my throat. “I saw Shadow shoot right past me, and for a second I could have sworn . . .”

“It was Duke,” Roane concluded, his deep voice gentle.

Avoiding his gaze, which I somehow knew would be just as soft as his tone, I nodded. “I’ve never had a dog since. Great Danes take up a lot of room, cost a lot to house and feed, and my mom didn’t want another one, especially with me going off to college. Then I moved to the city and I didn’t feel it was right to keep a dog when I worked all the time.” Why was I telling a stranger all of this?

“But you miss the company?” Roane asked.

Pulling the key to the store out of my pocket, I nodded. “I guess.”

We came to a stop outside the bookshop.

“Shadow, heel,” Roane called to the dog. Thankfully, Shadow heeded him this time and trotted back to sit at his side.

I reached out to pet him. “He’s so gorgeous,” I said, smiling as Shadow bussed into my touch. Thankfully, like Duke, his ears hadn’t been cropped and were floppy and silky and beautiful.

“Lucky bastard,” Roane muttered.

Surprised, I glanced up to see he was staring at Shadow with genuine envy.

I dropped my hand and stepped toward the store. “Well, thank you for seeing me to the store . . .”

“Wait.” Roane moved toward me, his expression eager. “Evie, I don’t make a habit of asking tourists out but I can’t help myself. You’re brave, you love animals. You’re stunning. I’m a mere mortal.” His chuckle had a slightly disbelieving tone to it, like he couldn’t understand himself in that moment. “So please have a drink with me tonight?”

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t extremely flattered by Roane Robson’s attention. Or that I didn’t very much want to know what it would feel like to have the most tempting mouth I’d ever seen on a guy in real life pressed against mine.

But I wasn’t here for a fling.

I was here to find myself.

I turned to him, deciding to be as forthright as Roane was being. “I’ve sworn off men. Not forever. But absolutely while I’m here. No men.”

Roane’s eyes rounded with surprise, and he reached up to scratch his cheek, the sound of fingernails against the bristles of his beard overly loud in the quiet morning.

And weirdly arousing.

After a few moments of contemplating me, he threw back his shoulders. “Have you sworn off friendships with men?”

Stupid disappointment rose in me, and invisible hands quickly moved to stuff that feeling back down, somewhere deep and dark inside me where I’d forget about its existence. “Friendship is good.”

He dipped his head to me, his lips curled at the corner in what seemed to be a perpetually teasing way of his. “Then have a drink with me tonight at The Anchor. Let me say thank you properly. And maybe you can tell me where you come from—why you came here for four weeks and swore off men.”

I shouldn’t.

I really, really shouldn’t.

But didn’t I come here to experience something different? A new place, new people, and maybe a new me?

Becoming friends with an English farmer was definitely a new experience. Who cared if he could grace the front cover of “The World’s Hottest Farmers” calendar? “Okay.” I smiled. “A drink. But I’m warning you, my story isn’t that interesting.”