I am not afraid of heights. I am not afraid of heights. Liberty halted halfway to fortify with more air, fingers pinched as white as her face, no doubt, from her death grip on the ladder.
“You don’t have to do this, Libs.” Finn’s voice was soft, obviously for her ears alone as he crouched at the top. Apparently he was recalling his awful challenge to her his senior year to climb a tree during recess, paralyzing her until Miss Willoughby demanded he help her back down.
“Yes, I do,” she whispered, more for herself than for him, the tender look in Finn’s eyes doing nothing for her concentration. “I need to conquer my fear of heights once and for all.”
And my fear of Finn McShane? A reedy breath seeped through her clenched teeth as she slowly crawled up, rung by tortuous rung.
Do broncs buck?
“Well, we best get busy with these two brooms, Pastor Poppy,” Mrs. Poppy said. “If these youngsters can climb into that loft to do manual labor, I suppose the least you and I can do is start sweeping out this barn.” She continued to chatter away down below, but Liberty could barely hear for the pounding of blood in her ears—both from her annoying fear of heights and the fact that Finn reached down to hook her waist, drawing her into the loft.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispered in her ear, both his arm and the warmth of his breath lingering far too long for comfort.
She swallowed hard. No, not the climb …
The moment her feet touched solid flooring, she lurched away, almost losing her balance. In another hitch of her breath, he braced her tightly once more, the press of his body to hers doing far more damage than her fear. “It’s okay, Libs,” he said softly, rubbing her back with a gentleness that all but melted her on the spot. “Fear of heights is perfectly normal for most people, but I promise I would never let you fall ...”
Fall? She battled a gulp as he slowly released her, his heated gaze causing her heart to wobble more than her legs. Oh, sweet mother of mercy—I think I already have!
Finn hung the lantern on a nail and rolled his sleeves. “All righty, Miss O’Shea, let’s push hay while the lantern shines,” he quipped.
Hand to her chest to calm the traitorous thump of her heart, Liberty watched as he attacked a stack of bales taller than him, biceps bulging as he hefted several onto the floor. Following his lead, she bent to push one across the rough-hewn floor with an unexpected grunt, grateful she’d remembered to wear her work dress. “Oh my goodness,” she huffed, taking a moment to catch her breath, “you weren’t lying, Finn—these bales weigh a ton!”
He stopped mid-stride to jag a thick, dark brow. “I never lie, Miss O’Shea,” he said in a husky tone, the two bales he carried obviously no hardship for a muscled body taut from clearing trees and chopping wood. “Or make a promise I can’t keep.”
Quickly averting her eyes, she attacked another bale, determined to focus more on working than on the man working beside her. After managing to shove a total of six bales to the front of the loft, she was no longer embarrassed over the grunts and groans it wracked from her body. But she and Finn enjoyed amiable conversation nonetheless while the mountain of hay slowly dwindled, even if hers was salted with breathless heaves.
“You know, sometimes I crave the smells of a barn,” he said without the slightest exertion, a touch of wonder lacing his tone. Hands low on his hips, he assessed the remaining bales with a slow inhale. His chest expanded, as if with pride and pleasure over laboring in a barn. “I can’t wait until I can build my own someday, being surrounded by so many things I love in one place: horses, hay, leather, oats.” He shot her a crooked smile before hefting two more bales. “I guess that sounds silly to a girl.”
“No, it doesn’t at all.” She tugged at another bale from the stack, carefully shimmying it forward till it toppled over. “I used to practically live in our barn grooming the horses, which was why it was one of my favorite places to be.” Her tone turned wispy as she prodded more hay, remembering how free she always felt astride her palomino. “After riding the ridge, of course.”
“I know, I used to see you,” he said quietly, muscles straining as he carried more bales to the edge. “The prettiest red hair I ever did see, flowing behind you and shimmering in the sun. I remember thinking you were the most graceful and fluid rider I ever saw astride a horse.”
“You did?” She paused, bent over a bale she was trying to scoot, his statement flushing her cheeks with a delicious warmth.
“I did.” He pushed her bale the rest of the way to the edge with little or no effort, then led her over to sit. “You need a rest,” he said, gently nudging her back down when she tried to get up. “We both do.”
“Sounds like you two might be ready for some lemonade,” Mrs. Poppy called, and both Finn and Liberty tossed a smile over their shoulders to the couple below.
“Sounds good, ma’am,” Finn said, “but after we finish the last of these bales, though, which shouldn’t take too long.”
“Well, just come on in when you’re ready, then, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am, will do.” They watched as the Poppys departed arm in arm, then Finn popped a piece of hay between his teeth and straddled a bale. Eyes reflective, he studied her closely, the sudden intensity of his gaze leaving Liberty more breathless than lugging a loft full of hay. “Also thought you were the plum prettiest girl I ever did see, even at the scrawny age of twelve.” A grin eased across his full lips while the piece of straw twirled in his mouth. “Of course I was pretty scrawny myself back then.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, avoiding his scrutiny to pluck some hay of her own, spinning it with her fingers. “You always seemed so much older and stronger than the rest of the boys.”
“Oh, so you noticed.” His chuckle braised her cheeks with more heat, and she looked away, reluctant to reconnect with those deadly hazel eyes that made her feel so nervous, so vulnerable.
So alive.
“I noticed,” she said softly. She quickly bent to flick straw off her skirt, suddenly missing his former tease and taunts that had always stirred more ire than desire.
“Libby.” The sound of her name on his tongue turned her insides to butter, and she closed her eyes as if somehow that might weaken the effect he had on her. But her pounding pulse and shallow breathing persisted, parching her mouth as dry as the piece of straw quivering in her hand.
He gently lifted her chin with his fingers, and a gasp parted from her lips when he caressed her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “And I noticed too,” he said quietly, eyes as intense as the sudden thud of her heart, “that since that one kiss with you, Libs, I don’t even want to look at another woman.”
She caught her breath, the sound almost harsh in the silence as she stared at him through wide eyes, his words stunning her so much, she was barely able to breathe, much less speak.
A sheepish grin eased across his face as he idly scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know, that was pretty much my reaction, too, when I finally figured it out.” His gaze softened to serious as he slowly trailed his fingers down the curve of her face, the motion so achingly tender, she almost moaned. “But the truth is, no woman has ever affected me like you, Libby—ever—not back in school and not now, so I’m asking you to give me a chance. I know I’ve been a burr under your saddle till now, but I’d like to make it up to you and start all over.”
A flash flood of tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks to pool in the tremble of her smile. “Oh, Finn, truly?” she whispered, hardly able to believe that the only boy she’d ever wanted, wanted her too.
“Truly.” Smile gentle, he carefully traced the shape of her mouth with fingers that burned like fire, tightening her chest with a need she’d never experienced before. His smile sobered once again. “The last time I touched you, Libby, I took something that didn’t belong to me, and I want you to know that I’m sorry.” He wisped a gentle palm over her hair, his Adam’s apple jerking hard in his throat. “But I think you should know, Miss O’Shea, that I want to kiss you right now more than I have ever wanted to kiss any woman before …” Gaze locked with hers, he leaned in ever so slowly, halting barely a whisper away, as if intent upon giving her every chance to say no.
Problem was—she didn’t want to say no. Because the feelings Finn McShane unleashed in her were too strong, too real, too much of what she’d longed for since she’d first met him so many years ago.
But could she trust him? Her heart stuttered in her chest.
“Libby.” His breath tingled her skin, cherry-pie sweet and as ragged as hers. “I’m going to kiss you now, so if that’s not what you want, then please—just push me away.”