Page 131 of Bend Toward the Sun
Harry’s hand flattened against her back, his warmth suffusing her. Bolstering her. Then he gripped her arms, holding her away so he could see her face. “Rowan, did you think I was leaving to build this somewhere else?”
She nodded.
A long breath escaped him, and he threaded his fingers with hers. “I go where you go, remember? It’s you and me now, always.”
Rowan gasped out a laughing sob and pressed her tear-streaked face to his, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his nose. He groaned playfully as she shoved him backward to the quilt and pinned him down with kisses.
“They can see us, you know,” Harry laughed.
Through the narrow clearing between the meadow and the vineyard, Gia and Will sat on the deck at the main house. From this distance, the two were tiny figures, but it was clear they were watching. When Rowan looked up, they both turned their heads away, pretending not to notice.
Her hair fell down as she bent to kiss the man she loved. She murmured against his lips, “Let them see.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Rowan
“One final thing!” Will called out from his picnic table podium. “New rule. Due to previous”—he paused theatrically—“abuses of the privilege, buildings are now off-limits as hiding places.” He pointed his whistle at Rowan. “That includes the greenhouse.”
Everyone laughed. Harry’s arm was slung low around her, his hand tucked in the back pocket of her cutoffs. He squeezed her butt and looked down, eyes sparkling and crinkled at the corners. Someone pelted her with a large marshmallow, and Rowan laughed as it bounced off her shoulder into the grass.
The last light of day was a glowing line of burnt orange in the sky. It was May fourth, and all the Bradys had gathered to celebrate her thirty-first birthday. Arden came home despite impending finals and preparation for a month-long hike of the Appalachian Trail. Even Malcolm was there, arriving from New York just yesterday with Charlotte. He’d surprised the hell out of Rowan with one of the loveliest gifts she’d ever received—a hardbound journal with a canvas cover, embroidered with leaves in every shape and shade of green imaginable. He gave her a terse smile and a quick nod of his head when she’d thanked him with a stilted hug. It was probably the closest he’d ever come to any overt sign of affection with her. Temperance and Frankiewere the first unofficial bed-and-breakfast guests, spending the weekend in two of the newly renovated rooms in the east wing of the house. The Everetts even came—Colby, his sister, Bess, and his brother, Brennan.
Earlier that day, Gia surprised her with a luscious Spanish orange-and-almond cake, a recipe that had been in her family for generations. Harry’d helped her make the sugary citrus glaze from fresh-squeezed orange juice. The cake was studded with a hodgepodge of thirty-one candles of various shapes, colors, and sizes—leftovers from the kids’ birthdays over the years.
It was perfect. All of it.
Will blew the whistle to kick off the game of Team Tag.
“You’re mine this time, Dr. McKinnon!” Harry shouted behind Rowan as she sprinted into the darkness.
“Like to see you try, Dr. Brady,” she shouted back, laughing.
Hiding inside buildings was against the rules, but hidingbehindthem wasn’t. Rowan ran east to the sheep barn, and immediately regretted the choice. The ewes could hear her outside, and as she approached, they shuffled around noisily inside the barn, hoping for crunchies. Asparagus let out a loud, insistent whistle of donkey curiosity.
“Shhhhh,”Rowan hissed. She leaned against the rough wood of the outer barn wall, trying in vain to slow her choppy breathing. Warm night air lay across the back of her neck like a sweaty hand.
Several minutes passed in silence. When she heard Asparagus make the same inquisitive noise from moments before, she knew someone else was approaching.
She could run like hell as soon as she saw a shadow, and hit the Chardonnay block a few hundred yards away. Nobody knew the vineyards like she did. But if it was Harry, she was toast. He was running half-marathons now, and even when he’dbeen out of shape, his ground-eating strides were difficult to keep ahead of.
The donkey went silent. The only sound was the monotone whirr of crickets, and the occasional pip of tree frogs.Tooquiet.
It seemed suspicious, really, that she didn’t hear anyone, anywhere. None of the Bradys were calling out to each other to coordinate plans of attack. Frankie was hilariously bad at the game—she surely should have been found by then, whooping with her loud, reckless laugh.
Cautiously, Rowan leaned out to peer around the barn.
Behind her, the air moved.
“Asparagus did you dirty, my love.” Harry’s voice was a low rumble. “Gave you right away.”
Resigned, Rowan slowly turned to face him. “She’s probably mad I didn’t bring her a banana. Spoiled baby.”
Checkered moonlight shifted across Harry’s beloved face as he approached. “You’re not allowed to run this time.” He moved in quick and cupped her face in his hands.
Tiny hairs rose with goose bumps along the back of her neck. It felt deliciously wicked being discovered by him, there in the darkness. Outside this barn was the first place they’d kissed—exhausted, icy cold, and slathered in mud. Rowan reached around him, settling her hands on his ass. Longing and tenderness brewed inside her. The old jeans he wore were no longer loose and shapeless like they’d been when she first met him. He filled them out well, in the back—andthe front.
“I can see your brain working right now.” He brushed his nose alongside hers, whispering against her cheek. “No knees to the balls this time, either.”