Page 97 of Almost Ravaged

“No,” she says, her focus on the hives. “I’m not allergic to bees. But I wasn’t exactly planning to get stung today.”

Lips twitching, I shake my head and grab her hand. “These gals won’t sting you. Come on.”

I didn’t intend to touch her, but she doesn’t pull away.

A glee I’d forgotten I could experience floods me. Though it evaporates when I step forward and am met with resistance. When I look back, Sawyer’s abusing her bottom lip with her teeth, looking from me to the hives.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we have some sort of safety gear? Those big white suits and funny net hats?”

Her shoulders are tight and her face is etched with concern as she studies me. She’s genuinely nervous.

I inch closer, bowing my head. “I’ve got all the protective gear back up in the barn if you’d feel better wearing it.”

Deep brown eyes search mine. God, she’s pretty. From this angle, a hint of her cleavage is visible. The subtle peek of her breasts sends me back to the day she stood in my home in that tight little tank with my flannel over top.

The flannel she hasn’t returned. A thrill of possessiveness sings through my veins.

It’s followed by a scolding. It doesn’t mean anything. And why do I care that she kept my shirt?

She looks past me, surveying the hives again. “You’re sure this is safe?”

Safe.

If she only fucking knew how concerned I am, at all times, about safety.

“Honey, I didn’t want you behind the counter in the bakery for fear that something would happen. I would never put you in harm’s way.” I swallow thickly, my heart pounding a little too heavily. “I can’t even fathom the idea of you being hurt in any way. I promise you’re safe with me.”

Her face lights up, and my whole fucking world illuminates.

“Okay.” She nods once. “I trust you. Let’s go.”

“This is incredible.” Sawyer is crouched low, her phone out and set to record as I gently scoop another handful of bees from the transport container.

“Pass me the smoke canister,” I murmur. This swarm has been extremely docile since I rescued them two days ago, but I’m not taking any chances where she’s concerned.

Scent and pheromones play important roles in the aggression of a colony, but Meg always swore they could pick up on vibes, too. I’ve trained myself to drop into a meditative state when I’m working with them, and because of that, I tend to come out here when I need to get my head on straight.

Between the constant gentle buzzing of the colony and the calm being in their presence requires, I never feel better than when I’m working with the bees.

“I’m going to give them a bit more smoke to encourage the ones still in the transport hive to make their way to their new home.”

With a gentle but steady flick of my wrist, most of them drop off.

“I can’t believe they’re not stinging you,” Sawyer muses, her eyes wide. “And some of them are even going in on their own,” she marvels.

Even out here, her sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent encompasses me. I can’t focus on how good she smells right now, though. She said she had an hour. Time is ticking, and we’ve still got work to do.

“They’re highly intelligent creatures. They just want to be with their queen.”

“She’s the one in the clip?” Sawyer asks, her tone hushed, reverent.

I nod, keeping my movements slow and languid as I gently scoop another handful of bees and transfer them.

“She’s the largest, and the life source of the hive. The rest of the colony is programmed to follow her lead.”

“And they all just came along when you moved them here?”

“Most of them did, yes. Luckily, one of the groundskeepers at Holt called me when he found them. They had built a hive on the side of one of the storage sheds at the field house, but no one realized it until they needed to get equipment out this week.”