Page 18 of A Troll in the Hay

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished.” I scooch my chair closer to him and weave my fingers through his. “An amazing surprise. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the most of it by dancing with you. I would’ve loved to see your moves. What’s your favorite song? I can put it on the jukebox now.”

The expression of horror on his face is priceless, making it impossiblenotto dissolve into laughter.

“I don’t dance,” he says, once my giggles have subsided.

“Hmm, we’ll see. Yesterday, you didn’t come to crowded bars, either.”

He doesn’t dispute the point. Maybe because it’s unarguable. Or maybe because he’s too tired, based on the yawn he fails to contain or mask.

“You didn’t have to wait around for me, and I’m happy you did, but it’s late and you worked in the fields all day, so let’s get you home to bed.”

“Will you be joining me?”

The heat in his gaze brings memories from earlier rushing to the front of my mind. His hungry kisses. His finger sliding along the slick line of my pussy. How I would have done anything he wanted. How I wanted him to do everything.

Sitting stone still, I’m suddenly hotter than while hustling around the bar. And from the flare of his nostrils, he knows exactly where my mind is.

“Tired farmers need sleep,” I say unconvincingly, even for my ears. “Will you sleep if I go home with you?”

“If you tell me not to touch you.”

“Well, fat chance of that happening.”

Chuckling, he lifts my hand to his lips for a soft kiss, then stands, using our joined hands to guide me up too. “Then I’ll see you home and say goodnight.”

“I drove here; my car is parked down the street.”

“Harmony Glen is very safe, but if you’d allow me to follow in my truck, before carrying on to the farm, I would still feel better knowing you’re safely inside your cabin.”

“I’d like it very much if you’d see me home.”

Nodding, he places one hand on my lower back, staying close by my side as we move toward the exit.

Intensely dedicated.

He sees you as his mate. As in, for life.

If you want the same things he does, you couldn’t ask for someone better to go through life with.

If Cate is right, Ogram knowsI’mthe one he wants to go through life with, even though we’re at the beginning of getting to know each other. Even though I’m different from him in every way. He just knows.

That’s the troll way, but I’m human. We don’t have an instinctive response to identify our ideal person. I’ve never been in love—I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. But I know what I’d want it to feel like.

Like this.

Chapter Eight

OGRAM

A late night doesn’t change my body’s internal clock. Even taking the morning at a leisurely Sunday pace, I’m up, fed, showered, dressed, and out the door by half past seven, ready to do some one-person jobs on my coworkers’ day off. What I’m not prepared for—a dark-haired beauty in a sundress the color of summer water, sitting atop my tractor when I walk into the drive shed.

Her face lights up when I enter, dimming slightly at the sight of my work clothes. “I guess farmers don’t get days off at this time of year.”

“Not generally, but I can make an exception.”

“I don’t want your employees to be upset if they’re working and I pull you away to play hooky on a sunny day.”