Page 96 of Almost Ravaged

With a hand shielding my eyes from the sun, I smile up at him, noting how light his blue-gray eyes look. “I’ve got an hour, and I’m all yours.”

Chapter thirty-four

Noah

“Noah. Wait.”

I slow but don’t stop walking. If I stop, I’ll chicken out. And I don’t want to chicken out. Not with her. Not with this.

What the hell has come over me?

One second, I’m having visions of a freak accident behind the bakery counter, of the injuries Sawyer could sustain.

The next, I’m adding fall-flavored creamer to coffee and handing it to a pretty girl, desperate for her undivided attention.

Edna saw it all, too. I shouldn’t be surprised. She always sees through my shit.

“Come on,” I urge as I ease down the hill near the apiary.

Before us are twenty hives, each one a beautiful masterpiece. After today, it’ll officially be twenty-one.

“Are those bees?” Sawyer asks, a slight panic to her tone.

“Honeybees. You’re not allergic, are you?” Probably should have asked before I brought her out here.

I’ve been too preoccupied, knowing she’d be here, then being in her presence, to think clearly. And I’m so damn eager to share this with someone. Maybe it’s silly. It’s honestly not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But Meg would be proud of this moment, and that makes me want to share it with someone else who might care.

Does Sawyer know the first thing about bees? Maybe not. But she’s thoughtful and genuine, so it was easy to assume she’d be interested.

It hits me now that I haven’t wanted to share anything with anyone but Mercer in a long, long time.

Though maybe I’m not to blame for this incessant need to share. Maybe it’s her.

Sawyer has this uncanny ability to light up a room.

No. It’s so much more than that. She has a direct impact on me. Like the glow she emits casts out all my shadows.

Before we get too close, I stop and wait for her to catch up. I was so damn excited to bring her out here. Now that she’s hesitating, I’m second-guessing myself.

When she stops beside me, I turn and take her in. She’s striking. Sensational. From the adorable freckles on her nose to the deadly curves of her breasts and hips and waist, I could look at her all damn day and still not get my fill.

My sternum physically aches with the need to be closer, to get to know her better.

I’m awestruck just being in her presence. Like I’m not worthy of her. Like I don’t deserve to feel this way.

A dark cloud of grief lingers in the periphery of my mind, but I block it out, refusing to let the storm in. I’ve already had one awful spell this month. It took three days in bed and a slew of emergency grief counseling sessions to pull myself out of it.

With a steadying breath, I silently repeat my mantras.

It’s okay to experience blips of happiness, despite what happened.

I’m alive, so I owe it to those I lost to fucking act like it.

They aren’t the most poetic phrases, but they work for me. My counselor is always telling me to meet myself where I am.

Right here, right now, standing beside this pretty girl, is exactly where I want to be.