Goodness, Elsbeth could not remember the last time she’d laughed so much. Or felt so free.
Or so wet!
Or so happy.
She turned her head to look at the man lying beside her. It would be so easy to turn onto her side, place her hand on his chest and nestle closer.
She felt drawn to him like a flower turning toward the sun. The water dripping from her hair and clothes seemed insignificant compared to the warmth building inside her chest. His eyes met hers, and the world around them stilled.
Philip reached over, his fingers gentle as they brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. The touch lingered, his palm cupping her face with such tenderness that her breath caught. Time slowed as he leaned toward her, his gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again, asking a silent question.
She answered by closing the distance between them.
Their lips met. Softly at first, a gentle kiss that quickly deepened, igniting a fire in her core. The kiss was everything she’d imagined and more—slow, deliberate, filled with unspoken promises. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her damp hair as he drew her closer.
Heat surged through her body, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath her palm. She melted into him, savoring the taste of spring water on his lips and the earthy scent that was uniquely Philip.
When they finally broke apart, Elsbeth kept her eyes closed for a moment, afraid that opening them might somehow break the spell. That perhaps she’d imagined it all.
A flutter of anxiety rippled through her. Had she hurt his feelings last night? Is that why he’d pulled away? She’d worried she’d ruined everything when she’d cut him off, changed the subject before he could say whatever he’d been about to tell her.
But he was here now, his hands still cradling her face as if she were something precious, so perhaps she hadn’t ruined anything after all.
“It’s full,” Philip said suddenly, his attention shifting to something behind her.
Elsbeth turned to look, surprised to see their makeshift dam had indeed filled completely, water now spilling over the edge they’d constructed. How had he known without even looking? It was just one more mystery about this man.
This man who seemed to have an almost supernatural connection to the land and its resources.
“Come on!” Philip sprang to his feet with boyish enthusiasm, extending his hand to her. She placed her palm in his without hesitation, that now-familiar current of electricity shooting up her arm at his touch.
“It’s working,” she breathed, momentarily distracted from thoughts of their kiss as she took in the sight of the water pooling exactly as they’d planned.
This would be the lifeblood of Rose Farm.
“Let’s go finish the job,” Philip said, his face alight with excitement as he turned to look at her. Then he froze, his eyes lingering on her lips. The air between them charged with electricity. Elsbeth’s heart hammered against her ribs as she moistened her lips instinctively, waiting, hoping.
But instead of leaning in, Philip turned away. “We should finish the system and check for leaks.”
Disappointment washed over her as he began making his way back toward the pipes, his long strides carrying him quickly down the path. She followed, trying to figure out if she’d missed something.
Had she done something wrong? Was he regretting their kiss already? Questions tumbled through her mind as they reached the collection of pipes waiting to be connected.
“Do you want to do the honors?” Philip asked, gesturing toward the final connection.
“The honors?” Elsbeth blinked, pulled from her thoughts.
His smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is your flower farm. This is your irrigation system,” he said, holding out his hand toward the pipes.
“Oh, you should do it,” she replied. “Since you’ve worked so hard on it.”
Philip shook his head. “We do it together.”
He picked up the main pipe, and she moved beside him to grasp the connecting piece. She stood so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body through their wet clothes, smell the earthy scent of him mingled with spring water.
Together, they aligned the pieces, their hands working in tandem to create the final connection that would bring water from the spring down to her fields. With a satisfying click, the pipes locked into place.
“Now for the moment of truth,” Philip said, his voice low as he reached for the valve. “Ready?”
Elsbeth nodded, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Yes.”
Philip’s hand covered hers as they turned the valve together. For a breathless moment, nothing happened. Then came a gurgling sound, followed by the unmistakable rush of water flowing through the pipes.
“It’s working!” Elsbeth exclaimed, unable to contain her joy as she watched the water emerge from the pipe end and begin to fill the small reservoir they’d constructed at the edge of her first field.
Philip’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her against his side as they watched the water flow. “You did it,” he murmured.
“We did it,” she corrected, leaning into him. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Philip.”
She turned her face up to his, and the look in his eyes stole her breath away. There was pride there, yes, but something deeper, too—something that made her feel…desired.
“Philip,” she whispered.
The sound of his name broke something inside him. He lowered his head, capturing her mouth with his. This kiss was different from the first—hungrier, more demanding. He nipped gently at her lower lip, and when she gasped, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth.
Elsbeth yielded completely, her body melting against his hard, toned chest. She wanted more—wanted everything he could give her. His strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against him until she could feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against her belly.
Heat pooled low in her stomach as his hands roamed her back, tangling in her damp hair. She wanted to surrender entirely, to feel his skin against hers, to discover every inch of him. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as the world spun around her.
When their lips finally parted, Elsbeth’s knees buckled. Philip caught her, holding her steady against his chest as they both struggled to catch their breath.
“I’m sor—” she began, embarrassed by her reaction.
“I’m not,” he interrupted hoarsely, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that since the first moment we met.”
Elsbeth blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “You have?”
“Oh yes,” he nodded, his voice rough with raw emotion. “Most definitely yes.”
“Me, too,” she admitted.
Philip’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Really?”
“Yes.” She smiled shyly. “I just...wasn’t ready to admit it until now.”
His thumb traced the curve of her cheek. “And now?” he asked, his gaze intense.
The cool water from the newly connected pipes trickled over her boots, soaking into the soil beneath her feet. She glanced down, watching as the life-giving moisture spread across the thirsty earth.
“Now I’d like to celebrate by planting some flowers,” she said softly.
Philip tilted his head, looking a little bemused. “Okay.”
“I want to mark this moment,” she explained, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “Make a permanent reminder.”
“You do?” His voice was tender, understanding dawning in his eyes.
“I do,” she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, this one gentle and sweet with promise.
When they separated, Philip’s smile was so bright it rivaled the sun overhead. “What kind of flowers did you have in mind?”
Elsbeth took his hand, leading him toward the small greenhouse where she’d been nurturing seedlings. “Roses, of course. For my mother.” Her voice caught slightly.
“Perfect,” he said.
“This way.” She took hold of his hand and pulled him toward the greenhouse. “I brought some with me. They were my mom’s favorite.”
They went hand in hand to the greenhouse, and as she opened the door, she tilted her face to his. “Kiss me again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle patter of water dripping from their clothes.
He arched an eyebrow at her and said, “With pleasure.” He pulled her close, his lips on hers, as he slid his tongue along her lower lip, leaving her trembling with need.
It would be so easy to give in to temptation. And what a temptation he was—strong arms, gentle hands, and a mouth that made her forget everything except the feeling of him against her.
“The roses,” he whispered in her ear, and inched away from her, his eyes dark with desire.
“The roses,” she repeated, her voice unsteady. Her body protested the loss of contact as he let her go, but she understood. This moment was about honoring her mother, about putting down roots—both literally and figuratively.
She went to the roses and picked one up, passing it to Philip before selecting another—her mom’s favorite, a deep crimson bloom with a heady fragrance that transported her instantly back in time. She smiled down at the rose as she remembered her mom cutting them and placing them in a vase in the kitchen where the scent would fill the room.
They went together to a spot near the newly installed irrigation line, the perfect place where the roses would thrive. Philip dug a hole while Elsbeth mixed in rich compost, their movements synchronized as if they’d been gardening together for years.
“Your mother would be proud,” Philip said softly as they lowered the first rose into the ground.
Elsbeth’s throat tightened with emotion. “I think she would,” she agreed, gently patting soil around the base of the plant. “She always said roses need love to truly flourish.”
“Like people,” Philip murmured, his eyes meeting hers over the freshly planted rose.
They stood back, arm in arm, and admired their work. The two roses looked perfect against the backdrop of the mountains, sentinels marking the beginning of Rose Farm’s transformation.
Then Philip said, “I have something I need to tell you.”
“I know,” she said, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice.
And whatever it was, she was ready to hear.