She had no idea what to say to that, so she smiled.
“Have you ever been to Honeywilde before?” Brenda asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“You’re going to love it. How long did you say you were staying again?”
“A little over two weeks.”
She glanced toward the back. “Like I said, that one is a sweetheart. Known him his whole life. He might come across to a lot of people like some kind of big, bad trouble, but he isn’t. That boy has soft spots. Don’t let him fool you.”
Anna blinked, once again lost on how to respond. “Okay.”
“When he was a kid, he rode his bike all the way down the mountain, in the dead of night, just to get to my house, because he needed a hug.”
“Oh god, not that story.” Devlin groaned as he returned from the back.
“Yes, that story.”
Anna stared at the over-six-foot-tall man before her, imagining him short and probably skinny. Him and his knobby knees, on his little bike, in the middle of the night. “Down that road we were on?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. Can we not?”
“You could’ve been killed on that road.” Brenda fussed at him like he’d just committed the act.
“I was almost eleven years old. I was not going to be killed.”
“You should’ve heard what he said when he got here.”
“No.” He groaned again.
“He said he was sick of his know-it-all brother and he didn’t like having a girl live with them anymore. So, he needed a hug and he was coming to stay with me.”
Anna covered her mouth. “What did you say?”
“I reminded him that I was a girl too. He said I was too old to be a girl. I was a mom.”
“Oh no.”
“That’s probably enough stories for today.” Dev crowded her toward the door. “I’ve got the gloves. We better get started.”
He gave Ms. Brenda another quick hug and she and Anna had to say their nice-to-meet-yous on the way out the door.
Once they were back in the truck, Devlin passed over the gloves.
He started the truck but said nothing about the story or their stop. The story was cute, but the way Dev worked his jaw, his sudden, uncharacteristic silence, told her there was a lot more to it than a kid annoyed by his siblings and simply needing a hug.
Chapter 6
“You were pretty fearless to come down that mountain all alone.”
Dev shrugged rather than comment.
“All because you were mad at your brother and sister?”
He couldn’t be upset with Brenda for bringing up the time he’d run away. From her point of view, the story was fun. Cute. His complaints about his adopted sister, Sophie, were typical bratty-brother nonsense, his irritation with Roark being bossy nothing new.
Brenda knew a lot about him and his siblings, but no one knew the details of the turmoil they grew up in. She’d always thought the reason he showed up at her house on weekends was for the homemade cookies.
Best to let her believe the lie.
“Must’ve been something pretty big to make you risk riding your bike down a mountain in the dark.”
Devlin finally glanced at Anna, the truck’s engine the only sound. Her statement was simple enough, but she was ferreting out answers.
He wouldn’t let her dig too deep. Nobody ever liked what they found. “I was being stupid.”
“Somehow I doubt it.”
He focused on the road again.
If she looked into his eyes too long, she might see: Dev took the risk that night because he was desperate.
His parents had been arguing, again, but this time their anger spilled over onto everyone around them. They never laid a hand on each other, that he knew, and they never touched the kids, but there was so much yelling. Yelling and anger that he couldn’t understand.
He was the one Bradley kid, either brave enough or stupid enough—he still didn’t know which—to demand reasons why.
Why was he in so much trouble for spilling his glass at the table? It was only water; why did his father yell like it was the end of the world?
Roark had ushered him away, shushing him, wanting him to be quiet and stay away.
Now, Dev knew it was Roark’s way of trying to keep him out of the line of fire, but at the time it only felt like being silenced.
He’d had every right to ask why he was getting grounded over nothing, constantly in trouble for the tiniest little thing. But, at least when his parents were upset with him, they weren’t ignoring him.
He’d told Brenda he’d run away because of his bratty sister and bossy brother. There was some youthful truth in what he’d said, but his story was still mostly a lie.
Yes, adjusting to suddenly having a sister was difficult, but she wasn’t so bad, even from the start. And yes, he and Roark butted heads. People thought the rivalry was brothers being brothers, competitive in almost every way, but that wasn’t the root of their issues.
Dev didn’t feel like he was in competition with Roark. Growing up, he’d felt obligated to obey him. Roark was the one who gave a damn and took care of them as kids. That obligation chafed at almost every turn because it should’ve never been that way. For either of them.
But the stuff about needing a hug from Brenda was the truth that hurt the most.
Everything about Brenda was maternal, especially back then. Her kids were only a little older than Devlin and his siblings. They all went to the same school, and Brenda’s house was everything theirs wasn’t.
Affectionate but firm, she made her kids walk the line, she didn’t yell, and she hugged often. Her temperament didn’t change like the weather on a fall day. She was steadfast and sure, at a time when the Bradley kids had only volatility and a world of roller-coaster emotions.
When he’d gotten sick of his parents’ turmoil and arguing, tired of Roark playing the role of family leader, the only option that made any sense was to run to Ms. Brenda’s.
Into the silence, Anna sighed. “You know, I ran away from home once.”
Devlin kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel. He didn’t ask when or why, even as the curiosity poked and pinched.
“I’d made a C in trigonometry. I was fourteen, a freshman in high school, and I was devastated.”
That’s it? He would’ve been ecstatic even to be in trig his freshman year. Instead, that year had been mostly made up of sneaking out, trespassing, and trying time and time again to get a fake ID.
“I didn’t make Cs. Never had less than a B-plus in my life. Rather than face my parents with my C, I left.”
Now that, he understood. “They would’ve given you hell about your grade.”
“No, not really. My mother might’ve rolled her eyes or sucked her teeth, but that would’ve been about the extent of it. My father would’ve been concerned, but not angry.”
“Then why run?”
“I didn’t want to tell them. I didn’t want anyone to know. I was smarter than a C. My failure was embarrassing.”
“Where’d you go?”
“My friend Ginny’s house. Her parents were really nice about me showing up at their door with my bag. They ordered a pizza and got in touch with my parents, telling them I’d come over for dinner. They left out the part about my backpack full of clothes and makeup.”
He could imagine her big, sad, brown eyes. Who could possibly be mean to her or turn her away?
“Eventually they sent me home, but not until I told them what was wrong. I told them about the C, and it helped. I got to practice saying it out loud before telling my parents.”
“That was decent of them.”
“Yeah, and my dad took it well. He told me to pull up the grade. No TV and stuff until my homework was done. Grades were priority because I had to get into college, preferably with a scholarship. So, I pulled my grade up and got both.”
Smart and driven. But he’d kind of already figured as much.
; “I’ve been meaning to ask . . . what do you do in Atlanta? I was going to guess attorney, but now I don’t think so.”
“Advertising.” She smiled. “I work for the biggest ad agency in Atlanta.”
Pieces of Anna began to fall into place. The high-end stuff, her put-together appearance. He’d bet his bike that Anna was hot shit at that big ad agency. She was probably flooring folks left and right, kicking ass, and somebody, somewhere, told her to go take it easy for a while. Take a break in the mountains. Enjoy the fruits of her labor.
“Are you the best ad exec at your agency or second best?” he teased.
“No.” With a quick look away, she touched her neck. “I don’t know. I do all right.” Pink splotches dotted the side of her neck, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
If Anna wasn’t the best, she wasn’t far from it, and for whatever reason, that made her very nervous.
They reached the greenhouse, and Brenda’s son walked out to greet them, work gloves already on.
“Yes. Will is here.” Dev waved through the window.
“Who?”
“Brenda’s son, Will. He can help too, and we’ll get these plants loaded without killing ourselves.”
“Your sister outdid herself with this order,” Will called over as they got out of the truck. “Y’all having another celebrity wedding up there or something?”
Devlin threw his hands up. “This is Sophie being seasonal.”
“Yeah, with Mother’s Day this weekend and all.” Will’s attention fell on Anna. “Great. You brought some help.”
“Will, this is Anna. Anna, Will.”
Once introductions were made, they got to work. He and Will got the heavier planters onto the back of the truck, the smaller items going down into the trailer.
He’d have to creep his way back to the inn to make sure none of the plants were blown to death. They’d look good set up though. Sophie was right to go with a large order, especially if her goal was lush.
Anna stuck with moving the ferns, hanging and standing arrangements, but only after he had to remind her their agreement was no large items. Not because she couldn’t, but because he wouldn’t risk her dropping something on herself and getting hurt.
Or, more likely, him dropping something on her.
He’d assumed she was a stranger to dirty work, but the longer they worked, the faster and harder she moved. They got well over half the plants loaded, but Anna kept going at it like there’d be an award for first one finished. Her focus and drive were undeniably hot.
Staying clean was impossible, and soon soil covered his gloves, dotted his arms, even his face where he’d swiped the sweat away.
Anna stopped on her way back to grab another load, gloved hands on her hips as she caught her breath. She hadn’t fared much better. Her gloves were filthy and soil smeared her forehead.
“See? Roughing it,” he teased as he passed her with a few baskets of begonias. After he got the baskets loaded, he stood next to her, taking a breather too.
“Moving plants is slightly more work than I imagined, but . . . I kind of like it. Is that weird?”
“Not to me.” Sweat trickled down his spine, his hair sticking to his temples because he’d let it get long again. His breath came faster, his heart pounded, and his legs were barking from all the squatting down to grab plants.
And he loved it. Hard work felt great. Anna enjoying it too wasn’t weird at all.
Whether he was hauling plants, working on his bike, or trying to fix up the old Chevy, Dev preferred working with his hands. All he thought about was the task in front of him, one he knew he could accomplish, and the effort was immediately evident. The hard jobs were the kind he worked on for days, weeks, even months, and all of the effort may or may not ever show.
“All that’s left are the two tall planters and the basin.” Will paused with them.
“You and I can get those.” Devlin pointed to the largest potted plants.
Anna opened her mouth, but before she could offer to help, he stopped her.
“We’ve got it. Won’t take but a few minutes. I put a cooler with water in the backseat of the truck. If you want to grab some shade, we’ll join you in a minute.”
The last of the load was the heaviest, and they were tired. He wouldn’t risk it.
“Fine. I guess.” Anna got the small cooler from the truck and picked a shady spot under the large oak, nearest the greenhouse.
Dev and Will each grabbed a tall planter while she cracked opened one of the bottles and took a long sip.
Her shirt stuck to her, damp from working up a sweat. With her head back, she drank, the pale arch of her neck exposed.
She shouldn’t be here. If his goal was walking the line and being a good little Bradley, he should’ve never agreed to her joining him. The problem was he wasn’t a good little Bradley. Never had been. He’d known he was screwed yesterday, yet he’d brought her along with him today, setting himself up for failure.
But if he was a dumb ass for bringing her, and trying to get away with it, in that very moment, he was a genius for the exact same reason.
Her shirt molded to her body with the same appeal as her jeans. Swells and dips in proportions that made the blood rush through his body. Exertion making her skin glow in a way that brought to mind only one thing.
Will whistled softly and Dev stopped, a few inches from plowing right over him.
“I know you’re otherwise occupied at the moment, but maybe you could manage not running into me with that planter.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good. I understand why you’re distracted. Think I could get a hand with this beast though?” Will dipped his chin toward a circular planter, about three feet wide and at least two feet deep, filled with soil.
“Yeah.” Dev pushed the planters a little farther back on the truck bed, to make room. He tried shaking off the Anna-induced haze. His reactions and thoughts on her aside, he had a damn job to do. He grabbed one end of the basin, with Will on the other. “One, two—Holy shit, this thing weighs a ton.”
Will grunted with the effort as they baby-stepped toward the truck. “How are we going to get it up on the truck?”
“Good question.” They couldn’t see what was beneath them, the width of the basin blocking their view.
Within a few feet of the truck, Dev accepted that he should’ve planned better, and now they were screwed.
“Here.” Anna hurried over, her gloves on. “You should’ve yelled for help.”
“If you can see the tailgate, guide us toward it and we should all be able to get the edge of the basin on and slide it back,” Will directed, using his chin again.
They tilted the base to get some leverage on the tailgate, and clumps of soil began to roll off on Anna’s side.
“It’s fine. Just keep going.”
They managed to get the majority of the weight onto the gate, and then slid it all the way in. The basin was loaded, but not before soil spilled all over them.
Anna brushed off her shirt, only managing to smudge it further. Her shirt clingy and dirty, her skin probably salty and slick, and all he could think was Yes, please.
“That’s a lot of dirt for a pot with no plants,” she said.
“Soil,” Will said.
“What?”
Dev leaned closer to her, making a show of covering his mouth to whisper. “If you call it dirt, he’ll fuss. Dirt is something you find anywhere on the ground. Soil is special.”
“I am not going to fuss.” Will slammed the tailgate closed. “Stop telling her lies.”
“You always fuss at me for calling it dirt.”
“Yeah, well, you know better.” He hit Anna with a bright smile, full of perfect teeth. “Soil is vitamin rich and intentional. Dirt is plain ole dirt. Now, you mind if I steal one of those waters before I get back to work?”
Devlin held his hand out toward the cooler.
“If y’all want to clean up a little, there’s a spigot righ
t outside the greenhouse. Help yourself.” Will grabbed a bottle of water on his way back inside the greenhouse, leaving the two of them alone, and filthy.
“I guess we could clean up before we get in Roark’s truck.”
They found the spigot on the far side of the greenhouse, and the water flowed cool and clear.
“Ladies first.”
“Oh.” Anna stared askance at the steady stream of water splashing down on the pallet they’d put under it as a makeshift grate. “No, you go ahead.”
If she was waiting for the water to warm up or miraculously turn into one of those fancy waterfall showerheads, she’d be waiting awhile.
Dev knelt and cupped his hands together under the flow, splashing his face clean.
“Did you ever think you’d be washing off with water from a spigot?”
“Not really. I prefer a hot bath, but this will do.”
He collected more water in one hand, dousing the length of his arm, then the other, rubbing and sloughing the spray down his forearms. Once he was clean—or as clean as he was going to get—he stood and tugged his shirt up to the only patch that wasn’t dirty, to dry his face. “Your turn.”
Chapter 7
Forget taking a bath. Washing off in the spigot was, without a doubt, the best way to get clean.
Dev pulled his shirt up a little higher to scrub at the hair by his temples, revealing his flat stomach again, the ripple of abs, and skin tanner than it had any right to be in early May. “We probably should’ve worn shorts. I didn’t think it’d get this hot today.”
His jeans sat low, the dips of his hips peeking out above the waistline.
She didn’t wear shorts in public, no matter how high the temperature got. Her tree trunks weren’t made for shorts, but Dev . . .
Underneath the denim, she’d bet her favorite bag he had sculpted legs. The thighs she knew were thick and shapely, but he probably had good calves too, from hiking around the resort’s property.
Not for the first time, she imagined those legs with hers hooked over them.
She locked her feet in place. If she didn’t, she’d certainly lose her footing. Fall into him the way he’d fallen on her the day before, except face-first and smiling.
A Date with Desire Page 6
