Chapter 17 Rowe #3
I squint up at him and he glances down, stone-faced. “Are you teasing me? Trying to prove that you’re actually human?”
He chuckles. “Last I checked, I’m very, very human.”
Is it just me, or was there some superstrong sexual innuendo in that sentence? Another wave of his musky scent hits me, and his aroma is so amazing that I want to douse a cozy blanket in it, wrap myself up, and drink some hot chocolate.
“Seriously, though. What cologne is that?”
“It’s mine.”
“I know it’s yours. What’s it called?”
“Pane Maddox. It’s my scent. I had it created.”
My feet get gummed to the floor. “What?”
He smiles bashfully. “Last year I worked with a perfumer to create a signature smell for the hotels. While we were at it, I had one created for me, too.”
“Are you blushing?”
“No. It’s hot in here.” He glances away, looking annoyed. “Are you going to start dancing again? Or keep standing there?”
“Sorry.”
We start back up, and after a few seconds, he murmurs, “I don’t really talk about this.”
“You mean, talk about the fact that you have your own scent.”
“Yes.”
This is so fascinating. “What’s in it?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, I for sure want to know.”
He’s quiet for a moment before admitting, “It’s dry gin, rosemary, and sandalwood.”
“I knew I smelled juniper,” I reply, feeling very smug.
Then I show no shame and sniff his shirt.
“The sandalwood really comes through, and now that you pointed it out, I can also smell the rosemary. But it’s the dry gin—the juniper—that’s the one that makes the whole bouquet stand out.
” I sigh wistfully. “It is so good. You should sell it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it wouldn’t be mine. I share enough with the world.”
He sounds bitter. Maybe his life isn’t as rosy as I assume it is. Before I can ask him about it, he shifts the conversation. “Tell me three things about you. Besides the fact that you let piggycorns lick your feet, I mean.”
“Even though you’re saying that sarcastically, you just wait until it happens to you. You’ll love it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“We’ll see about that.”
When I don’t answer, he gently squeezes my hand. “Three things.”
I frown up at him. “Why?”
“Because I’m living in your shamper and I’d like to have something to talk to you about other than piggycorns.”
“They are a great conversation piece.”
His nose wrinkles in distaste. “Not for me.”
“Fine.” I sigh dramatically. “Three things. Okay. I went to Auburn but dropped out, and when I have spare time, I design landscaping. I know you’d never know it by looking at the farm, but I’m really good.”
“Did you study horticulture?”
“No. English.”
He waves around the hand that’s gently cradling mine. “How did you get from English to landscaping?”
I shrug. “I couldn’t figure out a major and I always loved to read. I guess that I just wanted to live in fantasyland and read books all day.”
“Hard to pay the bills like that.”
“You’re telling me.” I laugh bitterly. “But a few years into college, my dad got sick. So I left to come home and help take care of him, and . . . I never went back. So now I spend my time between the farm and piddling with plants, which I’ve always enjoyed.”
A line of concern worms its way across his brow. “And your dad?”
“He passed away from stomach cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” Heaviness blankets the conversation until a flirty smile flits across his lips. “So you love plants and animals.”
My heart expands under the weight of the flirtatious look on his face. I find myself grinning back. “Yeah, plants and animals.”
“That’s two things.” He holds up the same number of fingers. “What else?”
“Oh! When I was a kid, I loved The Dark Crystal. I watched it with my dad over and over.”
“What is that?”
I roll my eyes. “We’ve got to get you out more.” He smirks, not unkindly. “Well, that was my three. Now it’s your turn.”
He thinks about it by pursing his lips, which makes that dimple in his cheek snap.
“You know that I fix old Land Rovers. I also like to run. I do it almost every day, which means I’ll need to track down some sneakers.
Some might say that I’m running from my past, but I simply like to go far.
It forces me to work my way back home even when I don’t want to. ”
I laugh. “So you’re saying there’s no deeper meaning there.”
“Absolutely right.” We lock eyes and laugh. There’s a strange new feeling that’s taken up residence in my chest. It’s like butterflies are banging around in there, trying to get out. “I also call my sister every night, no matter where I am, to tuck her in.”
My heart implodes.
“And what else . . .” He glances up at the ceiling in thought. “Oh, and my superpower is that I can see a person’s potential and help them grow into it.”
“That’s actually really nice.”
“See? I’m not the demon you think I am.”
He twirls me around, which makes me laugh. When he pulls me back in, I say, “So why all the questions? I mean, apparently I recite useless sayings.”
He lifts his chin, nodding in realization. “Yeah, about that . . . I’m sorry.”
I cup a hand to my ear. “Wow. I’ve gotten two sorry’s out of you, and you’ve only been here for one day.”
It’s Pane’s turn to roll his eyes. “I may have overreacted.” He glances up, giving me a superb view of his amazing jawline. “I don’t like platitudes. People say them as if they have deep meaning, but they usually don’t. People also use them to ingratiate themselves.”
“An apple a day is supposed to ingratiate me to you?”
He shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain.”
“I’m all ears.”
He sighs. “My dad always made a big game of reciting sayings. He’d start one and have me finish it.”
“And that’s bad?”
There’s a thick, hairy pause before Pane finally answers. “He abandoned us.”
My stomach bottoms out. What? Who could do that, and why? Why would he abandon his kids?
My heart hurts for this man, who’s holding me so gently, like I’m something precious that could fall and break.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Sunbeam.” The song ends, and Pane glances away from me, smirks. “There’s another couple out here with us.”
Ron and Jennifer have taken to swaying. She glances over and grins at me. Surprisingly, I don’t want to leave Pane’s arms.
“Looks like you get one more dance.”