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“Tell me about this plant you saw.”
“You know I can’t do it justice.” Mirth infused his voice. “I once described a rose to you as ‘red.’”
I chuckled. “Well, you weren’t wrong.”
“I also wasn’t very observant, as you pointed out for the next hour.” He shuddered. “It was very like schoolwork. I think you made me memorize the parts.”
I lifted my head. “I did not.”
“You made me repeat them so often, it felt as though you did.”
I smiled. “You didn’t get it wrong after that, did you?”
“Of course I did.” He barked out a laugh. “You know I have no head for that kind of thing.”
“No?” I shifted to study his face while we spoke. “I’d wager you could describe your crops to the tiniest detail.”
He shook his head. “Not even if you threatened my life. But I can look at them and tell you if they look…wrong.”
I laughed. “Is that the technical term?”
“You know what I mean.” He threw his free hand into the air. “Weak. Sickly.”
I grinned. I was only teasing him. Judging by the half smile turning up one corner of his mouth, he knew it.
“You did an admirable job describing the problem with your crops. The one I helped with.”
His arm tightened around my shoulders. “Thank you again, by the way.”
My cheeks heated as my gaze dropped to his mouth. The heat of his body surrounded me. I’d never felt so relaxed, comfortable and yet aware of him at the same time. Would he kiss me again? When he made no move to, I leaned closer. He didn’t pull away.
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- Print copy of How to Play the Game of Love – US shipping ONLY. A digital copy will be sent if winner is International