Page 104 of Stolen Harmony

“I'm sure.” And I was, surprising myself with how much I meant it. “Seven o'clock. Bring your appetite and maybe that guitar of yours.”

The back deck was alive with the sound of laughter and the sizzle of burgers on the grill. Tom had arrived early with a cooler full of beer and stories from the bar, while David had brought his acoustic guitar and was picking out lazy melodies between conversations.

“I haven't seen you this relaxed in months,” Tom observed, settling back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. He gestured toward me with his beer bottle. “Whatever's got you smiling like that, keep it up.”

David nodded in agreement, pausing his playing. “It's like you remembered how to be human again. About time.”

I felt heat creep up my neck, but before I could deflect with my usual self-deprecating comment, the sound of boots on gravel announced Rowan's arrival. I turned toward the side gate, and my breath caught in my throat.

He walked through the twilight like he owned it, a six-pack of beer in one hand, guitar case slung over his shoulder. Hisdark hair was slightly tousled from the motorcycle ride, and he'd changed into a black t-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in ways that made my mouth go dry. There was something predatory in the way he moved, confident and loose-limbed, like he knew exactly the effect he was having.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said, his voice carrying that rough edge that did things to me I wasn't prepared to analyze in front of company. “Had to stop for supplies.”

Tom let out a low whistle. “Jesus, kid. You trying to give Elias a heart attack?”

Rowan's smile was pure sin as he caught my eye. “Just being neighborly.”

David's guitar playing had stopped entirely, and I could feel both men's attention ping-ponging between Rowan and me like they were watching a tennis match.

“Beer's in the cooler,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. “Burgers are almost ready.”

“Perfect timing then.” Rowan moved to the cooler, bending over to grab a bottle, and I had to force myself to look away before Tom and David noticed exactly where my attention had drifted.

But when I glanced back at them, Tom was wearing a knowing smirk, and David was trying very hard not to laugh.

“So,” Tom said conversationally, “this is interesting.”

Rowan settled into the empty chair between Tom and me, close enough that I caught his scent—soap and leather and something uniquely him that made my pulse quicken. He twisted off his beer cap with practiced ease, the simple motion somehow loaded with casual confidence.

“So what were you all talking about before I interrupted?” he asked, taking a slow sip of his beer, his eyes finding mine over the bottle.

“Oh, just how Elias here has been walking around with astupid grin lately,” David said, picking up his guitar again but not playing, just holding it like a prop. “We were trying to figure out what's got him so cheerful.”

“Really?” Rowan's voice dropped to something almost conversational, but there was an undercurrent that made my skin warm. “And what conclusions did you reach?”

Tom leaned forward in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, we ruled out a lottery win and a religious conversion. That left us with the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“Someone's getting laid,” David said with a grin.

I nearly choked on my beer. “Jesus, David.”

“What? It's true. You've got that look. Satisfied. Relaxed. Like you've remembered what your body's for.” David strummed a chord, then looked between Rowan and me with calculating eyes. “Question is, who's the lucky person?”

The silence stretched out, thick with implication. Rowan's knee brushed against mine under the table—contact that could have been accidental but felt deliberate. The touch sent heat racing up my leg.

“Maybe some things are better left mysterious,” Rowan said quietly, but his voice carried an edge that made Tom sit up straighter.

“Oh, this is definitely getting interesting,” Tom murmured, taking a long pull from his beer. “The plot thickens.”

I stood abruptly, needing movement, needing distance from the charged atmosphere building around the table. “Burgers are done. Who wants cheese?”

But as I moved toward the grill, I felt Rowan's eyes tracking my movements, and when I glanced back, the look he was giving me was pure heat—the kind that promised things I couldn't think about with an audience.

David and Tom exchanged another loaded glance, and Irealized this evening was going to be a lot more complicated than I'd planned.

Two hours and several rounds later, the empty beer bottles had multiplied across the deck like evidence of a very successful evening. The burgers were long gone, David's guitar had been passed around the circle, and inhibitions had dissolved into the warm night air.