Much Ado About You - Page 48

Not too long after, Roane arrived with a few more men to load the rented stalls into the van. I stood by the back of the van as Roane shut the door. Caro was waiting for Viola, who was putting together a small bag for their stay at my apartment. We’d said goodbye to all of our market sellers, who thanked us for a great day, and I’d watched Annie and Liz leave without a backward glance at Maggie.

Who stood in the doorway of her store and stared down Main Street until Annie was out of sight.

“She sold everything.” Roane crossed his arms over his chest and smiled softly at me. He was dirty and disheveled from working the farm, and sweat glistened on his temples. He smelled musky and warm with exertion, and I had to ignore the impulse to bury my face in his throat.

I didn’t know what had gotten into me.

But the urge came over me more frequently these days.

Swallowing hard, I looked toward The Anchor. “Oh yeah. She sold out just after lunchtime.”

“Maybe it’ll give her the boost she needs.”

I nodded. “I saw a woman watching from the lane. Dressed like Caro. Nasty scowl on her face.”

Roane frowned. “Helena?”

“I’m pretty sure. Caro didn’t see her. Thankfully. But I’ve invited her to stay with me again tonight. I don’t want her to go home to that woman and spoil what has been a great day for our girl.”

Suddenly I found myself hauled against Roane, my face pressed to his throat after all, as he squeezed me tight in his arms. I gripped the back of his T-shirt, the fabric damp from all of his physical activity. “What’s this for?” My question came out muffled.

He eased his hold, and I stepped back before I did something stupid. However, seeing his expression, I wondered if his arms weren’t a safer place. He really needed to stop looking at me like the sun rose and set with me.

“Thank you for looking out for Caro. I tried my best.” Roane scrubbed a hand over his face, his beard bristling noisily as he did so. “It wasn’t enough. She needed someone like you.”

“You’ve done a great job looking out for your cousin.” But who looks out for you, Roane? Who made him feel cared for? “I have Caro and Viola at my place tonight for girls’ night, but I was thinking tomorrow I could cook you dinner.”

His gaze sharpened, and I realized belatedly how that sounded. It sounded like I was asking him on a date.

“Or you know what would be even better, I’ll buy you dinner at The Anchor. To thank you for setting this”—I gestured to the van with the stalls—“up.”

His long study of me was discomfiting to say the least, and I shifted from one foot to the other. Finally, he looked toward The Anchor with an expression bordering on disappointment. “Aye. Sounds good.”

Worryingly, his tone suggested otherwise. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to take away the sudden weariness I saw in him, but he beat me to it with a tight smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He moved past me without another word, and the amount of uneasiness I felt at his abrupt departure was kind of melodramatic.

“Roane . . .” I followed him as he made his way to the driver’s-side door.

He glanced over his shoulder and then stopped. His expression was shuttered, which was completely unlike him. At my silence he frowned. “Evie?”

“We’re good. Right?” I was confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

My friend studied my face, and as he did, his hard countenance slowly softened. He walked back to me, and I found my whole body loosening with relief as he clasped my face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I could feel every inch of his calloused fingertips on my skin and closed my eyes, much too in love with the feel of his hands on me. “We’re good,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I was a bit abrupt with you. I’m tired today.”

“Can I do anything?”

Resting his forehead against mine, he chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. I brought my hands to his strong arms, curling my fingers around his biceps. For a moment we just held each other. I imagined we looked sweet, affectionate, peaceful. But on the inside my heart was racing like crazy as I fought the battle to ignore our attraction to each other. I even shook a little, feeling as though I might shatter with the force of my restraint.

Deep down I knew why Roane had been disappointed only a mere few seconds ago. I knew why his laugh was weary and unhappy.

He wanted more than I was giving him.

And he deserved to have everything he wanted.

Truthfully, I was flattered and excited that I was what he wanted.

Tags: Samantha Young Romance
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