Up close, he was…indescribable. Deep, soulful green eyes that glittered in the light were set under heavy eyebrows. Standing this near to him, I could see the flecks of gold and brown around his pupils. His jaw was chiseled and hard, covered with a smattering of afternoon scruff. A wide, beautiful smile completed the package. The only thing that saved him from being too perfect was the slight bump to his nose, but somehow the small imperfection only added to his attractiveness. He towered over me, at least a foot taller, his shoulders wider close up, his arms thick. He had extraordinarily long legs, encased in tight jeans. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was holding a basket of garlic, the pungent scent drifting in the air.
Then he spoke. His voice was like rich honey, deep and smooth.
“Welcome to The Harvest Table. Finding everything you want?”
“Um…”
He tilted his head to the side, studying me. “Can I help you find something?”
I swallowed and cleared my throat. “No, I think I’m good?”
He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. I realized my answer had come out more like a question, and I felt my face flush. I turned to the pile of peppers I’d been looking at, blindly picking one up.
“Fresh this morning,” he offered as he started arranging the garlic on a display beside me.
“Oh.”
“Picked them myself.”
“Ah. They look…lovely.”
“All organic. Everything we sell here is. All grown without pesticides and with the highest standards. You won’t find better-tasting produce anywhere.”
I glanced at him, seeing the serious look on his face. He wasn’t bragging or selling me a line. He was simply stating a fact.
I placed a couple of peppers in my basket and moved over to the cucumbers. I reached out for one when he spoke again.
“Your hand is shaking.”
I froze and looked down. He was correct—my hand was trembling.
He moved closer. “Are you all right?”
“I probably should have had some lunch.”
“Lunch? It’s past three. You haven’t eaten lunch yet?”
“Oh, um…I forgot.”
On cue, my stomach rumbled. Blushing again, I shook my head. “I didn’t have breakfast either.” I glanced at my watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“I can get you something.”
“What?”
He stepped closer. “Come to the restaurant. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Is it open?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I hesitated, then let him take my hand. His long fingers closed around my palm, and I felt an instant warmth at his touch. He took the basket from me and pulled me gently down the aisle. “You can finish shopping after.”
I allowed him to guide me through the double doors and lead me to a table in the corner. I looked around, feeling uneasy. “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble with your boss?”
A crooked grin curled up his full lips. “No, I’m good.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your work.”
“Honest, it’s fine.” He pushed me into a chair. “Sit here. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Where was I going to go? I didn’t even know where I was.
“I won’t.”
“Okay.” He turned to go and then came back, holding out his hand again. “I’m Noah, by the way.”
“Danica Rawlins. Um…Dani.”
He squeezed my hand. “It’s a pleasure, Dani. Stay here. I’m going to feed you.”
I followed his retreating form.
“I’m going to feed you.”
Why did those simple words seem so personal and intense?
And why did I like the sound of them so much?
Chapter Two
Dani
Noah returned a few minutes later with a basket of bread and a large glass of iced tea filled with slices of fruit. The bread looked delicious, and on the side was a dish of creamy-looking butter.
“The bread is made here, and so is the honey butter.”
“They have bees here?” I asked.
“In the back pasture. We sell the honey in the store as well. Try it. I’ll be right back.”
He paused. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Nuts? Cheese?”
“No.”
“Great.”
He disappeared, and I buttered a slice of the pillowy soft bread and bit into it. The delicate honey flavor of the butter was incredible. Before I realized it, I had eaten two slices.
Noah returned and set a plate on the table, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down, a plate in front of him as well. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but this is on the menu tonight.”
My plate was a work of art. A beautiful roasted beet salad was spread out on leafy greens, the golden, red, and purple beets glistening under a light balsamic dressing. Dotted with goat cheese and candied pecans, it was almost too pretty to eat.
Almost.
Noah pushed my plate toward me. “Tuck in,” he urged gently.
Taking a bite, I shut my eyes as the flavors burst on my tongue. “This is wonderful. Your chef is talented.”