A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  “Ferns only. I might get dirty. Then you’re taking me by the store. Got it.”

  He tossed his hands up. “All right, then. I guess we’re going to get some plants. I’ll need to get the keys to the truck. If you want to ride with me, you can. That’s completely your decision.”

  “Exactly. You’re under no responsibility here, whatsoever.”

  It was the sort of thing he’d been accused of for years, except this time he didn’t mind. “If you’ll give me your number, I’ll text you when I’m ready out front.”

  Anna’s expression froze. “Actually, I don’t have my phone or I would. How about I meet you outside in ten minutes? Since I don’t have to worry about waiting on the check, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  They agreed, and by the time he tossed some bottled waters in a small cooler, swung by the front office to nick Roark’s keys while he was in his meeting, and fired off a text to Sophie to let her know he was taking care of the plant problem, Anna was waiting for him in the inn’s portico.

  Leaning against one of the stacked stoned pillars, in her big, dark sunglasses, she looked more like a celebrity on vacation, dressing down to hide from the paparazzi, than a—whatever she did for a living—on vacation.

  He’d guess she was an attorney or in finance, but he’d have to unearth the real answer.

  “We’ll take Roark’s truck.” Devlin pointed to the side of the inn where his family always parked.

  “Not the work truck from yesterday?” She followed him, climbing up into the passenger seat once he unlocked the doors.

  The work truck was a piece of shit. He wasn’t taking her anywhere in that thing.

  “There’s too much stuff in the back of the work truck.” Plus Roark’s was nicer and more impressive.

  The Chevy started with a rumble before settling into a purr, and he backed out of the parking spot.

  Roark might be ticked when he found out Dev took his truck without asking, but if he’d asked, it would’ve led to a ten-minute discussion and runaround, even though this truck was the best option for the job.

  Asking also meant Roark would be more likely to catch on that Dev had plant help. Best to leave matters be for now.

  “I’ve still got to hook up the trailer before we go.”

  The detached garage, where they kept the trailers, tools, Dev’s bike, and the ’69 Camaro that would run someday, was about a quarter mile down a dirt road that went from the parking lot, around the side of the inn, and headed in the direction of the cabins.

  “I didn’t even know this was back here.” Anna sat forward as they pulled up to the hidden garage.

  “That’s the point. Roark added this a few years ago and wanted it, and I quote, ‘nestled into the environment so it’d blend, seamlessly.’”

  He hopped out and attached the trailer, and they were on their way back toward the inn, bouncing down the dirt road.

  Normally, his gut would be in a knot about going into town. Whether or not he saw any familiar faces or got any incriminating glances, he’d still get the twist of anxiety, like walking into a room and realizing they were just talking about you.

  But today he had a distraction, and a wonderful reason not to think about much but the woman beside him.

  The truck leaned, taking a particularly deep turn, and Anna grabbed the “oh shit” bar with one hand, clutching her seat with the other.

  “Don’t do a lot of off-roading in Atlanta?”

  “I try to stay on the road whenever possible.”

  “That’s no fun. This is nothing. If you want real off-roading, there are some insane trails across the back of the mountain.”

  “In my Lexus? I was lucky I made it up to the cabin.”

  He meant he’d take her, but he must not be making that part clear.

  She’d never want to go with him anyway. Anna probably didn’t think of off-roading as fun. He didn’t know what she did for fun, but he bet it wasn’t bouncing around with four-wheel drive, seeing how far you could push a truck without getting stuck.

  Testing his skill and trying his luck, finding his way out of a tough situation, made Dev feel alive.

  It also ended in him having to be towed a couple of times, but that wasn’t the point.

  “I can see it now.” Anna let go of her seat long enough to sweep her hand in front of her. “I finally take a vacation and go four-wheeling, then careen off the side of the road and wreck my car.”

  Finally taking a vacation. Big-city life must not allow for a lot of time off, so she’d chosen to come alone . . . to the mountains? “I have to ask. What made you decide to come up here by yourself and rough it, when you finally took some vacation time?”

  Anna pinched her lips together, her gaze trained on the road.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I thought people like you went to places like all-inclusive resorts in the Bahamas or something.”

  “Honeywilde is hardly roughing it. You’re a three-star resort according to the website, and you made it into national magazines after hosting a rock-star wedding.”

  He peered over as they reached the paved road that’d take them down the mountain, but Anna kept staring straight ahead.

  “True, we are pretty luxurious where it counts, but the natural setting is still rustic. You agreed to haul landscaping for the better part of your day too, and you were looking at tubing as a way to pass the time. There’s at least some roughing it involved in all of that.”

  She shrugged, but didn’t look over. “I’m not a fan of hundred degree heat, and sand all over me. Honeywilde is low on both.”

  He let his query go, but there were obviously other reasons she’d chosen Honeywilde. Reasons she didn’t want to get into, and he wasn’t one to pry.

  “And what do you mean, people like me?”

  He glanced over and Anna narrowed her eyes, a challenging look, daring him to answer without putting his foot in his mouth.

  With a grin, he focused on the road. “Fancy people.”

  “I’m not fancy.”

  “Sure you aren’t. Your suitcases alone are worth more than our work truck. You think I don’t know what that brown-and-tan design means? I look at magazines, especially when Honeywilde is in them. I know things.”

  She made a sound like she might laugh, but stopped it. “That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m fancy.”

  He debated with himself for all of about two-point-five seconds, then reached across the center console and peeled her hand away from her choke hold on the seat.

  At first, she stiffened at the contact, a tremble making her hand shake, but she didn’t pull away. A few seconds blew past and she relaxed in his hold.

  Her skin was smoother, her touch warmer, than he’d imagined. Why did she have to be so soft? He glanced over again. Long fingers, with the red polish perfect and shiny on her nails. “How much did you pay to get your nails done like this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Plenty, I bet. This paint job is immaculate.”

  “So?”

  “So, your luggage, the expensive car, fancy nails—I’m just saying a log cabin on the side of a mountain, tucked in the woods with the bears? At first glance I wouldn’t have guessed roughing it was your scene.”

  Her grip tightened on his hand, squeezing much harder than she looked capable of. “There are bears near my cabin?”

  “Probably not, but—”

  “Probably not?” She squeezed tighter.

  He winced as he maneuvered the mountain turns with one hand. “Not? I’m sure there are no bears near your cabin. That’s kind of my point though. You’re in the mountains. Bears live in the mountains. The possibility does exist.”

  She relaxed her grip, and didn’t pull away. “As long as they don’t live in Cabin Five, the bears and I won’t have a problem.”

  But the two of them might.

  His eyes were on the last curve and flattening road, but her hand was still in his. He shouldn’t b
e touching her like this, familiar and lingering. And she shouldn’t be letting him.

  Somebody needed to be smart here. One of them needed to curtail the touching, yet time ticked by and . . .

  Yep. They were holding hands.

  When he glanced over, she was watching the passing pines and oaks. “I don’t mind seeing bears from afar. I like the mountains and trees, the lack of skyscrapers. And noise.”

  They went another half mile before she met his gaze again. “I came up here because I wanted to get away from my everyday life. This place is completely different from Atlanta, and I needed that.” She wiggled her fingers, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure up his arm. “But how do you know so much about fingernail polish?”

  She was changing the subject, but he didn’t mind if the new topic was her sexy red nails.

  “I don’t know anything about nail polish, but I know paint. Took me three coats and a whole lot of profanity to get my bike the right shade of red, but it still doesn’t look as good as your nails.” He moved his hand under hers, stretching the fingers out so the sunlight caught the shine. “Red is a pain in the ass when you start, and if you flub the lines, there’s no hiding it. Not like silver or white. Someone did a great job with this. I like the color.”

  “Thank you. It’s called Size Matters.”

  He jerked his gaze to hers. “You’re making that up.”

  A splotch of pink peeked around the side of her neck. “Says so on the bottle.”

  He glanced down at her hand again before his focus shot to the road. “Ah, shit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re supposed to haul plants.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “And I forgot the gloves. Your nails are going to get jacked up without them. I’ll find some.” He lowered her hand, reluctant to let go, but he needed to focus.

  As soon as he did, he realized he’d driven right past the turn for Main Street.

  He should’ve thought about work gloves before they left, and now he couldn’t think who sold them. He couldn’t even find his way to Main Street.

  His brain had gone numb from touching her.

  He needed gloves, he needed to go by Brenda’s, and he needed to stop touching her, or risk forgetting why the hell they’d come into town in the first place.

  Chapter 5

  Anna sat with her hand on the seat instead of pulling it into her lap.

  Making it easy for Dev to reach for her again wasn’t the reason—though she’d gladly let him.

  His knuckles beneath her fingers, a little work calloused, the tougher skin against her palm, all the sensations of his touch—these were things she wanted to savor. If she moved, the feeling might fly away. Disappear like their touch never really happened.

  Devlin had asked her why the mountains, saying she didn’t seem the type.

  He was right. She wasn’t the type, but she’d done all-inclusive resorts many times, at work conferences or as part of a bonus. Sitting by a pool in Florida would only remind her of the last time she was there and had only a few hours’ break between a meeting and the company’s cocktail hour. Trying to relax in that setting would only stress her out.

  And the mountains were her father’s favorite place. This was where he wanted to be.

  Ignoring the fact she had a promise to fulfill, a responsibility to find her dad’s final resting place, wasn’t going to make it go away. That part of her vacation was about him, and her inability to say goodbye.

  They’d visited so much when she was young; a drive up for the day to buy honey and apples, stop and see the sights. He’d get on the Blue Ridge Parkway—going nowhere in particular—to see the views.

  He said it brought him peace. She could only hope it’d do the same for her, but she wasn’t going to go into all of that with Devlin.

  She’d known him less than a day. He didn’t need to know what a mess she was. If he did, he’d burn out the tires on the truck in a rush to get away from her. And right now, his company was the only thing keeping her from going stir-crazy.

  They followed the twists and turns down the mountain, and she stayed quiet, studying the view out the passenger window until they had to U-turn to get into town.

  Downtown Windamere, for being a whole five or six blocks total, had an impressive amount going on.

  The weather was still cool enough that the stores had their doors propped open, and even midweek, people milled about on the streets, checking out everything from gift shops to hardware, a pet store to a tattoo parlor.

  “Oh my god, how adorable is this town?” She twisted in her seat as they passed Miller’s Tool and Tackle shop right next to a salon.

  Flower baskets lined the outside of shop windows, a couple of cafés had tiny tables set up on the sidewalk.

  In her childhood trips to North Carolina, they’d never stopped in Windamere. That made the town the perfect new thing to shake off the sadness of the past.

  “Come on. Are you kidding me?” She held her hand out, presenting the town square, with their government offices in the background, and a statue of a colorfully painted goat right next to the statue of some historic figure. “There’s a polka-dotted goat in Town Square.”

  “Hey, those goats are for a good cause.”

  “Those goats? There’s more than one?”

  “Oh yeah. People pay for a goat statue, decorate it however they want, and stick it somewhere downtown. The goats stay up all year and the money goes to the hospital for cancer research.”

  “Atlanta did the same thing with dolphins to benefit the aquarium, but these goats are so much cuter.”

  What she wouldn’t do for her phone to take pictures. That’s it. She’d have to buy a disposable camera and actually pay to have film developed. Old-school style.

  “Please tell me Honeywilde has a goat.”

  “Not yet. But I do think it’s on the list of things to do this summer.”

  She smiled, picturing it. “You have to get a goat. Paint it using that warm apricot color you use for all the towels and accents and stuff. And somehow incorporate honeysuckle vines or honey and bees on it. It’d be the perfect kind of promotion for the resort, and all for a good cause.”

  “That’s . . . actually a really good idea. I’ll mention it to my family. There’s Brenda’s.” He pointed to a brick building squeezed into a row of about five more stores, but pulled off Main Street and around back to the parking lot.

  “It’s not as big as I thought it’d be.”

  “No, it’s a small place, but she has a greenhouse a few blocks outside of town to hold the large orders. She’s done our family’s flowers for years and she doesn’t miss a beat. We’ll pick up the order at the greenhouse, but if I went straight there and didn’t stop by to say hello, I’d be in big trouble.”

  Dev parked the truck and they walked around the end of the block, past a bakery that smelled divine, and a children’s clothing store too adorable to be real.

  The bells over the door at Brenda’s announced their arrival.

  “Devlin!” A petite African-American woman emerged from behind a riot of pink and purple flowers, her arms open wide as she walked toward them.

  “Ms. Brenda.” Dev enveloped her in a hug.

  “I haven’t laid eyes on you in weeks. Since y’all got the flowers for Easter. How’ve you been?” She patted his arm as they broke apart, looking him over like she was checking for damage.

  As she fussed over him, Devlin’s smile grew, big and embarrassed, melting Anna’s heart. “I’m fine. Hanging in there. Same as always.”

  “Good, good.” She gave him another once-over, and then her gaze fell on Anna. “I swear. It’s gotten to where every time you boys come to see me, you bring along a pretty girl. First Roark and now you. Do you work up at the resort too, honey?” she asked Anna.

  Anna looked from her to Dev and back again, grasping for an appropriate way to respond. “No, ma’am. I’m a guest up there. I’m Anna.”

&nbs
p; “Anna from Atlanta,” Devlin added.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Brenda made an inquisitive noise as she shook Anna’s hand, looking her up and down too, taking everything in. “And how long have you been at the resort?”

  “Ah . . . a day?”

  “A day?” She cut her eyes at Dev. “How long are you staying?”

  “A couple of weeks or so.”

  She turned to Devlin fully. “Does your brother know you have a guest down here with you to pick up plants?”

  “No, ma’am. And it’d be best if he never knew.”

  Brenda tapped the side of her nose. “I bet.” Then she turned toward Anna. “Now, are you sure you want to be doing this? It’s hot, dirty work.”

  “I’m happy to help. This was all my idea.”

  “I bet,” Brenda said again. Then she gave Dev a look that’d break glass. “You better behave. Let me go get your receipt.”

  Once she was out of earshot, heading to the swinging doors of her back room, Devlin leaned closer. “Don’t mind her. She loves me, and loves to give me a hard time.”

  “Now.” Brenda burst back through the doors, flapping the receipt in her hands. “I don’t know how you managed to con this nice girl into helping you move a bunch of stuff while she’s on vacation, but you could at least be a gentleman and buy her a meal or something, when you’re done.” She gave Dev a quick wink that Anna probably wasn’t supposed to see.

  He was right. Ms. Brenda didn’t miss a beat.

  She turned to Anna again. Keeping up with her was like keeping up with a ping-pong match. “Do you have gloves for moving those plants? You’ll want to protect your hands and nails.”

  “No, but Dev said he’d get some for us.”

  “Oh Dev said?” Brenda tilted her chin down, looking at him from over the top of her glasses. “Well, Dev better run in the back and see what I have on hand. I have gloves stuck all over in here.”

  He nodded, giving Anna an apologetic smile. “Just a second.”

  As soon as he was gone, Ms. Brenda turned to her again. “He’s a sweetheart, that one, but sometimes he gets ahead of himself.”