His grin widened. “I never bet against Rose.”

  Warmth pooled in my core, and butterflies took flight in my belly.

  “This place is great,” I managed.

  “I think so, but I’m biased. Would you like a tour?”

  My heart pounded out a thump-stutter rhythm that was probably the Morse code equivalent of, Yes, please, and thank you. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “Not until the hayride. Come on.” He held out his hand to assist me off the hay bale. When I made no move to take it, he said, “I mean, since you’ll be leaving soon and all …”

  Damn it, he was right. This might be the only chance I had to spend time with him before I left. And it was just a tour. With lots of people around. Nothing was going to happen.

  “All right.”

  I took his hand, and the moment his strong fingers curled around mine, I felt warmth flowing into me from the point of contact. Not the surface warmth you felt when you touched another warm body, but the kind of penetrating heat that wrapped around you on the inside and spread, like a hug.

  I glanced up at Steve, and based on the widening of his eyes, he’d felt it too.

  Everyone and everything around us faded into the background. Even time seemed to pause.

  Yep, I know. Weird. But true nonetheless.

  My body started leaning toward his, totally without permission, as I was mesmerized by those sparkling gold flecks. It would be so easy to get lost in those depths. Something told me that if I did, I’d need more than a GPS to find my way out.

  Thankfully, a roar of laughter from somewhere beyond brought me back to my senses.

  I took a step back, reclaimed my hand, and shoved both hands into my pockets.

  “Come on,” he coaxed again. His voice sounded huskier than it had before, though that might have just been my imagination. “I promise to behave, no matter how tempted I might be to do otherwise.”

  He was giving me that crooked smile again. The tingles in my fingers spread to other places.

  Lord help me, I’m not sure I can promise the same.

  “I can only hope,” Steve murmured, and I realized I hadn’t just thought those words, but I’d said them aloud.

  Mortification ensued.

  I clamped my lips together, dropped my gaze, and began walking toward the exit. I didn’t have to look back to know Steve was right behind me. I could feel his presence.

  Thankfully, I did manage to restrain myself, and Steve went back to being the easygoing, soft-spoken gentleman. He didn’t touch me again, but remained close enough that one misstep was all it would take to make contact. I was ashamed to say, I considered tripping accidentally on purpose multiple times over the course of the next thirty minutes.

  That was what being around this man did to me. Made me think crazy things and contemplate aberrant behavior.

  The temperature had cooled off just enough, making it perfect for a leisurely stroll. A heaviness hung in the air that had nothing to do with my proximity to Steve and everything to do with the approaching storm front that would put an end to the unseasonably warm weather.

  As we walked, Steve talked about his family and how the Zieglers had been working the land since before the Revolutionary War. From the warmth in his voice and the frequent smiles, it was obvious he cared about them very much.

  I liked listening, but honestly, he could have been reciting the dictionary, and I would have enjoyed it. His voice was deep and soft, like velvet, yet smooth, like silk, and conveyed a depth of emotion beyond words. I liked the way it made me feel too. I could easily picture myself pressed against him, feeling the gentle caress of those strong fingers, while he talked in that calming, comforting purr.

  He didn’t speak much about himself, which I found refreshing and contrary to personal experience. Most of the guys I’d dated—back when I actually did that sort of thing—talked about nothing but themselves. Their accomplishments, their prowess, their possessions. Angie used to say they were hardwired that way, that there was an innate, primitive biological belief that the caveman with the biggest club collection got to drag the girl back to his cave. The analogy always made me smile.

  Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem opposed to answering when I asked the occasional question, which I also considered a check in the positive column. People who continually deflected usually had something to hide.

  Like me, for example. I was an expert in deflection and vague nonanswers.

  Despite my determination not to get involved, I wanted to know more about him.

  He told me he was twenty-eight, the second born of five sons, and that the only time he’d been away from Shadow Ridge was the four years he was at college, earning a degree in electrical engineering.

  “You’re an engineer?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you were …” I clamped my lips shut before I could stuff my foot in there completely.

  “Just a farmer?” he finished with a wry grin.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “That was incredibly rude, especially coming from a pub waitress.”

  “No offense taken,” he said easily. “My family has been farming this land for generations. It’s good, honest work, and there’s no shame in that. But my parents insisted we attend college or learn a trade so we would have something to fall back on.” He laughed. “I did both. I got my degree, then apprenticed in the trade.”

  “Overachiever, huh?”

  “Not really. Sitting behind a desk wasn’t for me. I need to be outside, and I like working with my hands. Farming isn’t the only Ziegler family business, you know. We have a construction company too. In addition to helping out around here on nights and weekends, I’m also a certified master electrician by day.”

  “Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed.

  “And something tells me you are way more than a pub waitress, Casey.”

  He cast a probing glance my way. I said nothing, neither confirming nor denying. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. We ended up back at the barn where we’d started, and everyone was climbing into the back of the big wagon for the haunted hayride.

  “Looks like I’m up,” Steve said.

  I felt a stab of disappointment that my time with Steve had come to an end. I’d enjoyed his company. Sure, he was gorgeous and gave me the tinglies in all the right places, but he was also funny, intelligent, modest, and easy to be around.

  “Thank you for showing me around. You’re an excellent tour guide.”

  “You’re not coming on the hayride?” he asked, frowning slightly.

  “No. Not my thing.”

  “You could sit up front in the cab with me. Climate-controlled, lots of speakers, and awesome cupholders.” He said the last with a waggle of his brows, as if that could entice me.

  It couldn’t, but he could.

  I was tempted, but no. I’d already pushed the boundaries where he was concerned. Besides, with everyone else on the hayride, I could make a quiet escape.

  I shook my head and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Come on, Casey!” Michelle called from the wagon, patting an open space on the bale beside her.

  I waved dismissively. “You guys go ahead.”

  Shouts of, “Don’t be a chicken!” mixed with, “Ah, come on,” and, “But you have to come.”

  I ignored them. I’d heard enough stories over the past few weeks to know that the haunted hayride wasn’t for me. The thought of someone jumping out of the darkness was enough to make my blood run cold and send me spiraling into a panic attack that not even Steve’s mysterious calming powers would have a prayer of holding at bay.

  “You’re going to stick around, right?” Steve asked.

  The idea of spending more time was Steve was appealing, if ill-advised, but I could see where this evening was headed. Shannon’s husband and CJ were well on their way to being drunk, and Rose wasn’t far behind. I had no problem with people letting loose and having a good time, but I had no desire to watch the evening degrade to the level I thought it would.

  “I should probably go.”

  “What if I said please?”

  He looked at me with those beautiful eyes, and I felt myself falling into them again. Falling … and caving.

  “Bawk, bawk, bawk, ba-gawk,” clucked Shannon’s husband loudly, standing up and flopping his arms like a chicken.

  The others laughed.

  “I said no!” I yelled back at them. “Get off it and grow the fuck up, okay?”

  They stared at me in stunned silence. They’d never seen me lose my temper. Or heard me drop the F-bomb. I looked back at Steve. He didn’t seem as stunned as he was concerned. Then, his lips quirked.

  “I like a woman who stands up for herself. Tell you what. How about I get one of my brothers to drive the tractor tonight? You and I could stay here, drink cider, and talk a little more. I saw the way you were ogling those whoopie pies,” he added.

  Just like that, my anger cooled. The man had a gift for soothing ruffled feathers.

  “You’re not wrong,” I said, smiling now. “I thought I was slicker than that. But I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking; I’m offering. I’m not ready to let you go yet, Casey. I like spending time with you. Please.”

  Once again, my bones melted. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t ready to go either despite my head telling me it was the right thing to do. But I had to think about everyone else too, and what it would look like if I let Steve stay back with me while he got someone else to take the group out.

  “Go, do the hayride. I’ll wait until you get back.”

  “Yeah?” he asked. “You promise?”

  I returned his smile with one of my own. “I promise.”

  “Go on then,” Jessie said, appearing beside me. She must have arrived while we were out walking. “I’m not going either. We’ll keep each other company.”

  Well, hell.

  10

  With one last look at me, Steve walked away with the easy, confident stride of a man who was comfortable in his own skin. He pulled himself up into the tractor with equally appealing masculine grace. I might have looked at his butt. In my defense, he had a really nice butt.

  It took several moments before I realized Jessie was talking to me.

  “I never liked those things either,” she said as the loaded wagon drew away. “Once you’ve seen the real thing, it’s hard to find any fun in it.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  Resigned to spending the next hour with Jessie, I followed her back into the barn and kept my promise to those whoopie pies. I felt a slash of guilt for avoiding her lately. She was a nice person. I just didn’t want her looking any deeper than the facade I’d created around myself.

  Thankfully, Jessie didn’t bring up the weird encounter in the kitchen, and neither did I.

  Mostly, Jessie talked, and I listened, which suited me fine. I learned that, in addition to sharing an aversion to jump scares, we had several other things in common. We were both only children. We’d both lost our parents at a relatively young age. We both had an appreciation for offbeat British comedies, Abbott and Costello movies, and steamy romance novels.

  The most surprising thing I learned was that Jessie had spent several years with the New York City Ballet company in her youth. Her promising career had been cut short by the tragic fire that robbed her of her family and her ability to dance. It was only after her near-death experience, she confided, that the visions had started.

  I didn’t tell her about my guardian angel’s nudges. Mild as they were, they could be unsettling too. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to have full-blown visions. If, in fact, she did. I was less skeptical now than I had been, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced.

  “One person’s visions are another’s delusions,” Angie had told me once when a psychic came forward and offered her services to help me identify my stalker—for a hefty fee, of course. Angie had threatened her with a restraining order if she tried to contact me again.

  The hour passed quickly and pleasantly, and before long, we heard the rumble of the tractor approaching, barely audible over the cacophony of loud voices and raucous laughter.

  “Oh my God! You should have seen the look on your face, Michelle,” Max teased, nearly doubling over with laughter as they entered the barn. “I think you pulled poor Jason’s arm out of his socket.”

  Jason agreed, dramatically rubbing his wounded shoulder.

  “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t piss myself!” Michelle shot back.

  “I spilled my drink!” Max insisted.

  “Yeah. Uh-huh. Sure you did.”

  Judging by their smiles and high spirits, they’d had a good time, but I was glad I’d stayed back.

  I scanned faces as more people came in and moved toward the refreshments, looking for one in particular. I didn’t see him. It occurred to me that Steve probably had to put the tractor away before he could return to the festivities.

  I was so intent on watching the door that I didn’t realize anyone had come up behind me.

  “Come with me,” a deep, evil voice hissed against my ear.

  My hood was pulled up over my head, and then strong arms wrapped around me and jerked me backward. The barn instantly disappeared, and I was suddenly thrust into my nightmare. I was encased in darkness, being dragged against my will. Except I wasn’t drugged this time.

  I lashed out with everything I had, kicking and punching and scratching for my life. I managed to land several blows against my attacker before I found myself on the ground with someone pinning me down.

  “Casey! Jesus, calm down, darlin’.”

  The voice penetrated the haze. I knew that voice.

  “Lou?” I rasped.

  He exhaled heavily. “Yeah, darlin’. You okay?”

  No, I wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. My heart felt like it was going to pound right through my chest. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Get off me,” I wheezed.

  The pressure lifted, but he didn’t let me go.

  “You back with us now?” he asked cautiously.

  I sucked in a lungful of air as the barn came into focus. “Yeah. What happened?”

  Lou looked up at something behind me and scowled. “Mike’s a dick—that’s what happened.”

  Everyone was staring at me, their expressions ranging from concern to horror. I felt my face burning with embarrassment.

  “Let me up.”

  He helped me to a sitting position and said, “Give it a minute.”

  Rose was suddenly in my face, shoving a glass into my shaking hand. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  It smelled like whiskey. So did she. I pushed them both away.

  “What the hell happened?” Steve demanded, entering the barn and finding me on the ground, surrounded by a circle of people.

  “Mike thought it would be fun to scare Casey,” Shannon said angrily.

  Steve was in Mike’s face a moment later, grabbing his shirt with both hands. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growled.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it. How was I supposed to know she’d freak out like that?”

  I glared up at Mike, taking perverse satisfaction in seeing the scratches I’d made on his face and arms. Lou was right. Mike was a dick. But I had overreacted. They didn’t know about my issues. They didn’t know my triggers.

  Steve looked like he was ready to do some damage. I had to defuse the situation.

  “Steve, let him go. I’m okay.”

  He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes practically glowing. Beneath that easygoing exterior, Steve Ziegler was a fierce protector at heart. And at that moment, he was protecting me. That tempered my rage somewhat.

  “Please.”

  His eyes softened, just a little. He released the death grip on Mike’s shirt, then shoved him backward. “Stay away from her,” Steve warned.

  Mike put his hands up in surrender and backed away. Shannon took his arm and pulled him off to the side. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her tone and hand gestures showed she was clearly angry.

  Lou turned to Steve. “You got this?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah, I got this,” Steve assured him.

  “All right, show’s over,” Lou said, waving everyone off and herding them backward.

  Most people obliged. Except Rose. She was hovering, stubbornly trying to push another glass into my hands, sloshing booze onto me in the process. Thankfully, John intervened and gently but firmly guided her away.

  “How about some fresh air?” Steve asked, now crouched beside me.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”

  He extended his hand. I took it without hesitation and let him pull me to my feet. We walked outside, and I took a moment to inhale deeply. The air was heavier now, rife with the scent of approaching rain.

  He stepped up next to me, a quiet, solid presence.

  I wanted him to put his arms around me and hold me close. He didn’t, and I didn’t blame him. I’d just put my crazy on display for everyone to see. I imagined they’d be giving me a wide berth from now on. The upside, if there was one, was that it would make it easier for me to leave.

  We stood in silence as the minutes ticked by. Me with my arms wrapped around myself. Him with his hands shoved down deep into the pockets of his jeans.

  “I should go,” I said finally.

  He nodded, which, for some reason, felt like a knife in my chest. I did want to go, but some part of me wanted him to not want me to. To offer a protest, even a feeble, superficial one.

  “I’ll drive you,” was what he said.

  The blade twisted.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine. I haven’t had anything stronger than cider tonight.”

  He frowned, and I knew that wasn’t what concerned him.

  “I overreacted, is all,” I said quietly. “And now, I just want to go.”

  He considered that. I could practically hear the debate raging in his head, his chivalrous, protective side at odds with respecting my wishes.

  “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll follow you.”

 

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