Stolen Away by Alyxandra Harvey

the fence, plastic cup of mochaccino in one hand and a saw in the other. Farm girls knew how to multitask.
    The tree grew over the well that had run dry. I’d never noticed before that the gray branches were spiked, like rose stems. I sawed a few branches and then gathered twigs from the ground, wrapping them in twine. A thorn scratched my thumb, drawing blood.
    “Jo.”
    I didn’t see him until he spoke, his voice soft as scented smoke. Something about the way he said my name made me feel like blushing, and I never blushed. I also never stood there like a dork, smiling a goofy smile. Damn it, I was already losing my touch. That Strahan had a lot to answer for.
    “Are you all right?”
    I gave myself a mental kick. “Grand, thanks. You startled me is all. Did my granddad call you about the well? He’s been bragging to his friends that I found him a real water-witch.”
    He just smiled. “Three days in a row,” he said. “We’re going to have to go on a real date soon.”
    I couldn’t help but remember our brief hot kiss. Something about the way he was looking at my lower lip made me think he was remembering too. “I’d like that.” I was going to hell for this—I was supposed to be preparing for a big rescue, not flirting. Oh well, flirting was how I prepared for everything, including exams and dentist appointments, so why should this be any different?
    “Gathering firewood?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
    I looked down at my armful of branches. “Um, yeah.”
    “You’re bleeding,” he said. “Let me take that from you.” He took the bundle and set it on the well cover. “These trees bloom on the first day of May,” he remarked, stepping closer to me. “Did you know that?” I shook my head. His lips brushed my ear. “I think I missed you,” he said, sounding surprised.
    I shivered faintly even as warmth pooled in the oddest places of my body: my belly, the backs of my knees, behind my ears. I tingled and sparkled all over. “I think I missed you too.” I turned my head so our mouths were as close as butterfly wings. “And I don’t even know your name yet.”
    “I would have thought you liked a little mystery.” His free hand tangled through my hair, loosening my messy braid. I noticed a wicked scar on the inside of his elbow.
    “Ouch, what happened to you?” I asked, running my fingers up his forearm, gently brushing the puckered skin. “Did you burn yourself?”
    “In a manner of speaking.”
    I frowned. That wasn’t really an answer. “How did it happen?”
    “My father,” he replied, so softly I almost didn’t hear him. I stared at him, aghast.
    “What? Seriously?” I wasn’t entirely sure what the proper response was. “Your dad’s a jerk.” Probably not that.
    He shrugged. “He’s my father.”
    “What about your mom?”
    “I never knew her.”
    “That totally sucks.”
    “It is what it is. There’s no use weeping over it.”
    “You should run away.” I so wasn’t qualified to be giving this sort of advice.
    “He’d find me.” He sounded very sure.
    “So what, you’re over eighteen, right? You’re legal.”
    “If only it were that simple.”
    I didn’t know what else to say, so I just leaned down and kissed his scar. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
    His breath caught and he tugged on my hair lightly, angling my face back up. His lips descended on mine then, and I forgot everything, even how to breathe. I barely knew him, but it hardly mattered. We were connected somehow; something precious burned between us.
    His mouth was cool, like raspberry sherbet. I kissed him desperately, hating any tiny distance that might separate us. I would have crawled right into his shirt with him if I’d been able. He clutched me closer, as if he felt the same way.His hand tightened in my hair as he deepened the kiss, as he plucked me up and set me on the farm fence. I held on to his shoulders, feeling his lean muscles working under his warm skin.
    He pulled back, barely,