Page 14 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dove

A dark, purply-black berry burst on my tongue, and the sweet, woodsy flavor made me sigh and give Dorian a dreamy look.

“How do you not just stand here and eat berries all day?” I asked, plucking a few more and watching them tumble into the small container he had given me before we walked to the edge of his property where the bushes grew with abandon.

“I’ve spent hours picking, for sure. I’m in more danger with the nectarine trees than the berry bushes, though.” He kept his focus on the dark green leaves and thorny branches of the bush in front of him.

It must’ve been because the veil had been torn from my face last night, but every time I glanced at him or even got very near him, my heart rate picked up. The conversation on his porch hadn’t helped any .

“You have nectarines? What else do you grow? And why did I think this was only a tree farm?” I glanced around as though I’d be able to see everything he grew on the acres of land.

“Mainly trees, but Templeton had a small grove of fruit trees, a moderate apple orchard, and then I’ve done some planting for other things I enjoy. Mostly vegetables. I’d like?—”

He cut himself off and frowned down at the berries in front of him.

“You’d like what?”

“I’d like to build a hothouse so I can grow during winter, too. Just haven’t had the bandwidth so far. Maybe next summer.”

I couldn’t quite read his expression. He had what I thought might be embarrassment for some reason, and a fair amount of surrender that this hothouse couldn’t come to be before next year.

“Is it a complex thing to build? Luis, the owner of Guac, has one in town for his avocadoes, so they must work okay around here. I have no other knowledge. But I did grow up with one near where I lived.” That sounded innocuous enough, right? “It was always my favorite place to go in the winter.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, reaching for a cluster of berries and pressing against a line of thorns.

“Idaho, mostly. We lived in New Mexico for a bit, but, yeah.” Without explaining more about my life, which I wasn’t about to do, there was nothing else to say.

I liked that we were getting to know each other, but coming out of the gate with I was raised in a cult and after it was raided in New Mexico we had to move north just didn’t suit the mood. “What about you? ”

“Virginia.”

“Ooh, ‘Virginia is for lovers,’ isn’t that the state motto? I’ve always wanted to go there.” I popped another sun-warmed berry into my mouth. Goodness. I’d eaten berries from the bush before, but these tasted spectacularly good.

“Never visited DC?” he asked.

“Nah. I haven’t traveled much. I’m sure that seems weird for someone who I assume has been a lot of places.”

My cheeks pinked. I didn’t often feel like a bumpkin anymore. I’d lived some life. Heck, I had a college degree now. But I’d only taken a few trips in my life, and compared to the places this man had been, my life felt so small.

“I went a lot of places on road trips as a kid. Saw Gettysburg and the Liberty Bell. Lots of Civil War battlefields because my dad was a history buff. Basic training in Missouri, stationed in a few places before North Carolina for quite a while. And then deployments.” He exhaled, shoulders rising and falling. “It’s not all that glamorous.”

I chuckled. “Deployments aren’t glamorous? You don’t say.”

He slid his eyes to mine, but right as he opened his mouth, a loud buzzing sound startled us both. We turned toward the now obnoxiously loud whir of an engine, and through the trees past the berry brambles, I saw the culprits.

Dorian muttered something under his breath, eyes glued on the space where people on dirt bikes whooped and hollered as they rode what must’ve been a track.

“I’m guessing that’s not your property?”

He shook his head, clearly annoyed.

Our peaceful chat and the pleasant morning evaporated like so much smoke thanks to the idiots on crotch rockets. Thanks, dummies .

“I think I’ve got enough berries,” I said, holding my full bowl.

He scowled toward the trees, then nodded. “Let’s go.”

Once we walked a few minutes down the path that brought us to the berries, the engine sounds of the bikes dissipated, and his mood eased a touch.

“Did you grow up on a farm? Is that how you ended up here?” I wondered out loud, a breeze rustling through the scrub oak on either side of the trail.

Every part of this place was beautiful. It had manicured and neat sections like the rows of pines that made up the Christmas tree farm part, and then there were these wild parts that felt a little closer to their owner.

“No. Average suburbia for me. But after I got out and planned to move here, I read about this place. It was for sale, and I became a little obsessed with it.”

A chuckle tripped out of me. “Really? Obsessed with a tree farm?”

He let out a little huff. “Pretty weird, right?”

Why did his response make me borderline giddy? “I mean, so far, all I’ve seen points to total weirdo.”

He gave me a side-eye, and I burst out laughing, pressing my free hand to my heart. “Said with love because you’re standing next to a someone who embraces she is also a total weirdo. So hey, we make a good pair.”

I bit my lip, a sense of shyness nudging my shoulders and heating my cheeks. He was quiet, not surprisingly, until we emerged from the little trail and out into the driveway our houses shared.

Or, his house, and my rented cabin.

“You think we’re a good pair?” he asked, a little low and like he’d swallowed a handful of gravel before speaking.

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m here,” I said, cheery and bright and not letting on all the ways I thought that might be the case. Signature weirdo move, and he wasn’t ready for it.

A soft, shy smile tugged at his eyes and lips, and I wished his beard were a touch shorter so I could enjoy the expression on his face. But then, that wouldn’t help with the buzzing sensation that’d been twirling around like a drunken bee in my belly the entire time we’d been together this morning.

“Thanks for showing me the blackberry patch. They’re delicious.” I popped one more into my mouth for emphasis.

“Thanks for letting me.”

Our eyes met, and the chirp of crickets and low hum from an engine somewhere out there dimmed. The rustle in the trees, the slow movement of lazy butterflies… they all stopped.

His gaze traced my face with what my brain read as tenderness. My heart flipped.

And then I panicked and stuck out my hand and said, “Put ’er there, partner.”

His gaze didn’t waver. He closed his hand around mine, our second-ever handshake, and I waggled our hands together like a maniac until he cracked a smile, and in an effort to pretend I didn’t feel all kinds of things winging through me, I did, too.

He didn’t snatch his hand away. Instead, he held tight, shaking right back, until one of those blazing smiles broke free, and my breath caught in my throat while we just kept pumping our hands up and down like absolute fools.

Finally, I started cackling and laughed, backing away as a trill of wild butterflies exploded in my chest.

“Okay. Well…” I bowed low, continuing my mind-blowing awkwardness. “Thank you for the berries. And. The, uh, handshake.”

We both grinned.

My heart did something real dramatic.

And then, I turned and beelined to my cabin door.