LIAM STOOD IN THE DARK outside the tiny cottage, marveling at the turn of events his day had taken. When he woke up that morning, he figured he’d be making nice with an arrogant, granola-crunching dude on his way to taking Jake fishing for a couple of days. Instead, he’d had the sexy farmer pressed up against him in a way he was pretty sure he’d be revisiting in his sleep. And he learned how to plant lettuce. That had been surprisingly satisfying—not as surprising or as satisfying as finding out that farmer Andy was a chick instead of a dude, but still a stellar example of how quickly a day could change.

“Do you have any idea how long you plan on staying?” asked Andy, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot back there,” he said, deliberately not answering her question.

She pushed the door open and shot him a look over her shoulder that said she didn’t believe him. Not bothering to comment, she flipped on the light, illuminating the small room. It wasn’t much bigger than a hotel room. There was a desk with a chair like the ones around the kitchen table and a door he assumed went to a bathroom. And a bed—there was a double bed with a quilt-covered mattress and one of those spindle bedframes that made him feel like he was sleeping on doll furniture. It was parked in the middle of the room like a billboard advertising all the things he had no business wanting.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in here than in the bunk house.”

He arched a brow, asking a question without words. It was stupid, but he liked the way her cheeks flushed when he looked at her. He didn’t imagine many things rattled her. It suited him just fine to be one of them.

“Some of the guys prefer the communal thing when they first get here. Kind of like a transition from barracks to civilian life. For others—like Jake, I think—it keeps them from having to sleep alone. Whatever,” she said, giving her head a quick shake. “There’s probably room for you over there if you’d rather.”

He pushed back the anger that flared when she talked about “barracks” like she had any idea what it was actually like. He didn’t have to ask her to know she’d never smelled the unforgettable combination of too many scared guys, most of whom were barely more than teenagers away from home for the first time, crammed together in tents in hundred degree heat. In the desert. Fucking sand got in places it was never meant to go.

He ignored for the moment the fact that what she said made sense. For some guys, moving into a communal living situation similar to the one they came from might make coming home easier. Or it might be bullshit. Either way, he was at least self-aware enough to know he had no business directing his frustration at her. She might be a pie-in-the-sky idealist, but her intentions seemed good, regardless of that road to hell thing.

“This is fine.” He opted for economy of words to avoid showing his feelings, but he could tell from the set of her jaw, she thought he was an ungrateful jerk. Better that than shine a light on emotions even he didn’t want to look at.

“You should have everything you need.” She shoved the bundle of sheets she’d been holding at him, clearly intending to make a break for it.

He didn’t want her to go. How weird was that? Aside from the occasional hookup, he’d never had any interest in relationships. The guys he worked with were the closest thing he had to friends and the guys he’d served with were the closest thing he had to family.

He didn’t make any other kind of connections, and he sure hell didn’t play get to know each other games with wide-eyed innocents who had no idea what the world was really like out there. Hell, she didn’t even lock the door to her cute little cottage, and he’d walked right into her house earlier. People were in and out of her place like a train station. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t lock it at night. It would be just like Ms. Give Peas a Chance to assume everyone in the world was as kind and gentle as she and Millie. His stomach tightened at the idea of anything happening to them. Which was a not-so-subtle reminder of why he never got involved with anyone. Attachments did nothing but slow him down. He still didn’t want her to leave.

“You’re not going to help me?” He held out a corner of the sheet, daring her to turn her back on him.

She gave him a look that telegraphed she’d rather throw heavy things at his head than help him make his bed. He also knew without a doubt, her sense of hospitality was too strong to ignore a direct request for help. Hell, her whole life practically screamed savior complex. He’d ignore for the moment that someone he cared about and plenty of others seemed to benefit from it. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to spend any time looking at his own messianic tendencies.

Ignoring the sheet he offered her, she stalked the few steps to the bed and stripped off the quilt. She was spectacular when she was angry. She practically vibrated with energy. He took way too much pleasure in riling her up. Not exactly an adult impulse but too satisfying to give up. He managed to get his smile under control before she turned back to face him. He felt pretty certain if she caught him grinning at her like a fool, she wouldn’t hold back on the throwing things. She took a corner and walked wordlessly to the other side of the bed, fitting the sheet over the edge of the mattress and waiting while he did the same on his side. They finished at the bottom of the bed and she reached for the other sheet without waiting for him to offer.

There was a crease in the center of her forehead he had an irrational urge to smooth with his finger, and she’d clenched her jaw tight enough he worried for her teeth. He should really say something. Despite his desire to mess with her, he couldn’t deny she’d put herself out for him. And his shifting emotions were enough to give him whiplash. The only constant was the way he wanted her and their apparent mutual concern for Jake.

“Thank you for this.” He motioned with his head to the room around them while they tucked in the last of the sheet. “I appreciate it.”

“Having you around helps Jake.” She shrugged as if that explained everything, and maybe for her it did. She glanced up at him, seeming to weigh things for a minute before speaking again. “At dinner, after you finished telling your story, Jake seemed to get distracted. You did, too, for that matter,” she said, pinning him with her gaze.

He found the way her hazel eyes seemed to see right through him unnerving, but he couldn’t think of anything to do about it that wouldn’t make the situation worse.

“Why?” She left the question he didn’t want to answer hanging in the air.

He tucked in the sheet and grabbed the quilt while he searched for an easy way to reply. He could say it was nothing, but she’d know he was bullshitting her. Part of him rejected the idea of lying to her. He could ignore that part if it suited his purpose, but for now it was probably easier to tell her some version of the truth.

“Jefferson was killed two days after the incident with the goats.” He left out the fact that the IED ripped through the Humvee, scattering the other man’s body like horror movie confetti. He left out his widow and infant son too. There was an entire library’s worth of details he’d rather not remember but could never forget.

“You thought it was a good idea telling him a story that would remind him of that?” She was looking at him as though he’d lost his mind. Having her words echo his thoughts from earlier simply served to piss him off. She had a hell of a lot of nerve chastising him for something she could never understand.

“You think he’d ever forget something like that?”

He watched her open her mouth and then close it again. He felt like an ass but not enough to soften his words. He told her the truth. Jake remembered Jefferson’s death and a thousand other things he’d probably rather never think about. Liam knew it because he did too. Some days he managed to push the memories farther away, but they were always there.

She searched his face, and he felt the honesty in her gaze burn through barriers he had no intention of letting fall. He turned his back on her, walking the few steps to the bathroom to avoid having her see things he didn’t want to show. Opening the door, he flipped on the light and saw a tiny but serviceable shower, sink, and toilet fitted into the closet-sized space. He’d feel like a giant in there but she’d done a good job of using every bit of room she could squeeze out of the cottage.

“The bathhouse is bigger. Jake can show you it if you’d rather.”

He turned around to face her and caught her gaze wandering over his shoulders. When his eyes met hers, she flushed, and his mind went back to the feeling of her pressed up against him on the four-wheeler. The way her lean curves fit against him and her breath hitched when he got too close. He liked knowing she noticed his body. He liked it a lot. He just had to figure out a way to let her see that part without seeing inside him. If they kept things physical, maybe they could find a way to enjoy each other. He could ignore her naïve idealism and keep her from asking questions he had no intention of answering.

Yeah, and maybe Millie would take up line dancing and the goats would learn to fly.

“Breakfast is at six. Millie doesn’t like it when people are late,” she said, as if she were issuing a challenge.

They both knew her warning didn’t matter. Millie would feed him any time he showed up. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve the older woman’s approval. If she knew him, he had no doubt she’d change her mind, but for now he’d take what he could get and be grateful for it. Especially when it felt like he and the sweet old woman were pulling in the same direction.

“I won’t be late.”

Andy tipped her head in acknowledgment and then she was out the door, closing it firmly on him and his thoughts.

––––––––

LIAM STRETCHED IN the unfamiliar bed, his feet hitting the foot rail and making the whole bed shake. God, it was a miracle he hadn’t broken the thing in his sleep. Careful not to wreck Andy’s furniture, he stood and made his way to the bathroom, the gray glow of the dawn sky lighting his way. The hippy farmer with the fantastic body and the penchant for doing good said breakfast at six like the early morning was a deterrent. But Liam had always been an early riser, rarely sleeping past five.

He flipped on the bathroom light and groaned when his sleepy gaze landed on the postage stamp-sized shower. He’d tried it out the night before, partly to wash off the dirt from working on the farm and partly to wash away images of Andy on her knees in front of him, his fist in her hair. He’d succeeded in getting rid of the dirt and bruising his elbow from whacking it against the tile. He’d made no progress in eliminating images of green-gold eyes framed by inky lashes or the feel of her warm body pressed against him.

His cock didn’t seem to care that the contact had been completely accidental. He’d gone to bed hard and woken up harder, with only the promise of a cramped shower in front of him. Resigned to the inevitable, he took a quick shower, not bothering to wait for the water to warm up. The cold helped with the reallocation of his blood and when he finished, he was wide awake and ready. Fifteen minutes into the day and two goals already met.

Depending on how the day went, he’d see if he could work in a run later and maybe a full-sized shower at the bathhouse. He pulled clothes from the duffel he’d packed for the fishing trip and dressed quickly in faded jeans and a T-shirt. He was way ahead of Andy’s six o’clock schedule but he liked the idea of being the first one to meet the day. Although he had to admit, given the goats to milk and the people to feed, he might be stretching it to assume he was the first. He tugged on his black Southerland Security sweatshirt against the cool early morning air and stepped outside.

The sky was just starting to turn light, dawn nothing more than a thin, salmon-colored promise against the horizon. Ignoring the dew threatening to soak through his boots and one of the few pairs of socks he’d brought with him, he slipped silently around the cottage and headed toward the house. At this point in his life, stealth was pretty much his default position, but it had been a long time since he was as grateful for it as he was when he rounded the corner of the shed and saw Andy silhouetted against the growing light.

He froze mid-step, catching and holding his breath so he wouldn’t alert her to his presence. She’d hate knowing he’d invaded her privacy, but he justified it by telling himself she was the one doing yoga in a public place. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t have pulled his hungry gaze away regardless of the morals involved. Reminding himself to breathe, he watched her slide from mountain pose into warrior, lunging forward with her arms reaching overhead, fingertips pointed toward the sky. She wore a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings so there was nothing to obscure the long, graceful arc of her body.

As he watched, mesmerized, she shifted, sinking deeper into the pose, opening her hips and bringing her outstretched arms to shoulder height. He traced the lines of her body with his gaze, feeling the tension and release in the pose. He had to move or do something preferably before she got to down dog and he made an ass of himself. Crossing the still damp grass, he took up a spot behind her, taking a deep breath and letting it out as he sunk into the familiar position. Yoga had been a big part of his recovery and still helped keep his abused muscles from knotting themselves into pretzels.

“Don’t stop,” he said when she jumped out of the pose.

She stared at him for a moment as if she was trying to figure out his motives. With her chestnut hair pulled back in a merciless ponytail and her face scrubbed clean, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. There was something so honest in her clear eyes and the light dusting of freckles made her seem innocent. Mixed with the obvious strength of her body, it made a powerful combination, one he was having an increasingly difficult time ignoring. Breathing in, he shifted his body back into warrior one. His hip flexors appreciated the forward alignment and the stretch of his arms over his head pushed his aching shoulders in exactly the right way.

Watching him show his familiarity with the poses must have convinced her he was serious and not trying to make fun of her because she stepped back into position. When she sunk into the lunge beside him, it emphasized how much smaller she was—not fragile, not with the way she moved—but petite in a way that pulled on protective urges he thought he’d buried long ago.

They held the pose for a moment, breathing together and giving in to the feel of the stretch. His thigh muscles protested but it was a good kind of hurt. The kind that made his body stronger and helped him bounce back after his injury. He sensed Andy start to move and followed her, shifting into warrior two. Relaxing into the pose, he rocked his hip flexors, helping them loosen so he could turn his body sideways. He reached through his fingertips, not bothering to pay any attention to his arms. He could hold them in this position for hours. It was the lower half of his body that yoga worked, the part he still needed help with.

Of course, he’d look forward to it if he could do it with Andy every day. Watching the long, graceful line of her arms through to her fingertips and the elegant stretch of her neck provided more than enough motivation. He’d turn into some kind of freaking yogi if it meant he got to watch the dark-haired beauty twist and bend her body beside him.

He saw her ribcage expand before she moved again. When she exhaled, it was as if she collapsed onto herself, lacing her fingers behind her back and flattening out her torso. Dipping below her bent leg, she raised her arms behind her back, almost completely reversing her earlier pose. He tried to follow her, but it was clear after a few seconds he’d pushed past the limits of jeans and boots as yoga attire. And his shoulders really didn’t want to bend that way.

He managed to mutter the word “uncle” a fraction of a second before his balance tipped and he toppled over onto his ass in the wet grass. The dew soaked through his jeans and he sucked in a breath as the cold seeped through to his skin. Beside him, Andy straightened and then turned to face him, her smile lighting up her face. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t. Honestly. But there was a part of him that loved the idea of being the one to put that expression on her face, even if it meant wet denim.

“I’ve never done that one before,” he said, rolling to his knees and grimacing when the dew went through the denim.

“I can see that.”

He could tell she was working to stifle her laughter. And failing.

“What’s it called?” he asked, reaching for some shred of dignity.

Still grinning in the early morning light, she offered him her hand. He took it, the warmth of her fingers surprising in the cool air. He squeezed her hand as she helped pull him to standing. He used the momentum to close the distance between them so he stood close enough to almost feel her. Close enough to smell the clean lavender scent of her. He watched her lick her full, pink lips as he waited for her answer.

“Humble warrior pose,” she said, a smile curving her mouth. “It’s called humble warrior pose.”