me why it isn’t as simple as black and white.” Having polished off her sandwich, she reached for a baby quiche.
“ Because it’s not just about me. My grandfather bought that land and cleared it. Planted more than three hundred trees by hand. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine to give up.”
“ But you don’t want to be tied down by it?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I used to hate the place, when I was younger. Resented the hell out of it. Took off the moment I could.”
“ Funny, I thought you’d enjoyed helping your dad out this past year. At least, that was the sense I got.” He’d never complained about having to spend his downtime in the orchard. Not once.
“ I don’t mind the work. Not anymore. In a lot of ways, it’s really rewarding.”
“ But you don’t want to be tied down?”
He finished his bottle of cider before responding, setting the bottle carefully back in the basket. His father recycled them, she knew.
“I guess I just never imagined my whole life being played out in Marietta.”
“ Then I guess that’s your answer, then.”
She felt sad as she said it. She liked having Reid around. Working with him and getting to know him had been a privilege.
Looking at him wasn’t too bad, either.
She distracted herself from her inappropriate and dangerous thoughts by helping herself to a piece of lemon cake. Once she ’d demolished that, she brushed the crumbs off her T-shirt and lay back with her ankles crossed, arms behind her head, and closed her eyes.
If her eyes were closed, she wouldn ’t be tempted to keep staring at him. That was the theory, anyway.
In practice, she was almost preternaturally aware of him moving around, putting food back in the cooler, rearranging things.
“Here,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him leaning over her.
He was so close she could see the individual hairs of his eyelashes and she drew in a nervous breath. Then she reali zed he’d folded her towel into a pillow for her and was waiting for her to lift her head so he could position it for her.
“ Thanks.”
She engaged her belly muscles and lifted her head and shoulders, and he slid the folded towel into place. She was powerless to stop herself from breathing in the smell of him as he did so —deodorant and sun-warmed skin and man.
He was back on his side of the blanket in no seconds flat, arranging his own towel in a similar fashion. Her gaze got caught on the dark silk of the hair beneath his arms before darting to the sexy little trail that led beneath the waistband of his shorts. Parts of him she didn’t normally see. Parts of him she’d always wondered about.
Traitorous heat unfolded in the pit of her stomach. When she and Scarlett were teenagers, her sister ’s bedroom walls had been covered with posters of hot guys in various states of undress, but Tara’s bedroom walls had been all about the athletes she admired and the movies she loved. She’d never considered herself the type of woman who ogled men or got all squirmy when a well-built guy happened into her orbit.
What a fool .
She concentrated on her breathing, aware that her heart was beating too fast. She needed to calm the hell down and stop thinking like this. If Reid knew what was going on in her head ... she didn’t even want to contemplate how embarrassing that would be.
Instead, she thought about work, and her mom, and how happy she was that Scarlett had found Mitch—although, strictly speaking, it had been the other way around, since Mitch had come looking for Scarlett, tracking her all the way from the Australian outback to Marietta.
Gradually her hyper-awareness faded and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, you ever going to get around to telling me about this motorbike?”
Chapter Eight
Reid ’s voice was lazy and relaxed, but it didn’t stop her eyes from popping open.
“ I thought we covered that last night.”
“ I can think of a million better ways to live a
“ Because it’s not just about me. My grandfather bought that land and cleared it. Planted more than three hundred trees by hand. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine to give up.”
“ But you don’t want to be tied down by it?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I used to hate the place, when I was younger. Resented the hell out of it. Took off the moment I could.”
“ Funny, I thought you’d enjoyed helping your dad out this past year. At least, that was the sense I got.” He’d never complained about having to spend his downtime in the orchard. Not once.
“ I don’t mind the work. Not anymore. In a lot of ways, it’s really rewarding.”
“ But you don’t want to be tied down?”
He finished his bottle of cider before responding, setting the bottle carefully back in the basket. His father recycled them, she knew.
“I guess I just never imagined my whole life being played out in Marietta.”
“ Then I guess that’s your answer, then.”
She felt sad as she said it. She liked having Reid around. Working with him and getting to know him had been a privilege.
Looking at him wasn’t too bad, either.
She distracted herself from her inappropriate and dangerous thoughts by helping herself to a piece of lemon cake. Once she ’d demolished that, she brushed the crumbs off her T-shirt and lay back with her ankles crossed, arms behind her head, and closed her eyes.
If her eyes were closed, she wouldn ’t be tempted to keep staring at him. That was the theory, anyway.
In practice, she was almost preternaturally aware of him moving around, putting food back in the cooler, rearranging things.
“Here,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him leaning over her.
He was so close she could see the individual hairs of his eyelashes and she drew in a nervous breath. Then she reali zed he’d folded her towel into a pillow for her and was waiting for her to lift her head so he could position it for her.
“ Thanks.”
She engaged her belly muscles and lifted her head and shoulders, and he slid the folded towel into place. She was powerless to stop herself from breathing in the smell of him as he did so —deodorant and sun-warmed skin and man.
He was back on his side of the blanket in no seconds flat, arranging his own towel in a similar fashion. Her gaze got caught on the dark silk of the hair beneath his arms before darting to the sexy little trail that led beneath the waistband of his shorts. Parts of him she didn’t normally see. Parts of him she’d always wondered about.
Traitorous heat unfolded in the pit of her stomach. When she and Scarlett were teenagers, her sister ’s bedroom walls had been covered with posters of hot guys in various states of undress, but Tara’s bedroom walls had been all about the athletes she admired and the movies she loved. She’d never considered herself the type of woman who ogled men or got all squirmy when a well-built guy happened into her orbit.
What a fool .
She concentrated on her breathing, aware that her heart was beating too fast. She needed to calm the hell down and stop thinking like this. If Reid knew what was going on in her head ... she didn’t even want to contemplate how embarrassing that would be.
Instead, she thought about work, and her mom, and how happy she was that Scarlett had found Mitch—although, strictly speaking, it had been the other way around, since Mitch had come looking for Scarlett, tracking her all the way from the Australian outback to Marietta.
Gradually her hyper-awareness faded and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, you ever going to get around to telling me about this motorbike?”
Chapter Eight
Reid ’s voice was lazy and relaxed, but it didn’t stop her eyes from popping open.
“ I thought we covered that last night.”
“ I can think of a million better ways to live a
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