“Nora,” he tried again. “I didn’t mean—”
“You gave me your word,” she said, tossing aside a bundle of half-eaten herbs. “I asked one thing of you, something so simple even a child could have followed it, and in less than twenty-four hours, you managed to completely destroy everything I’ve been working for.”
“It’s not completely destroyed,” he said, trying to bring a little levity into the situation. Going by her glare, she didn’t appreciate it.
“I’m sorry, Nora. Truly.”
She sighed and paused what she was doing long enough to rub the back of her hand across her brow. “I know, Adam. I know you didn’t do this on purpose. At least I hope not.” She pinned him with a gaze that rivaled the sheriff’s, and he bit his lip to keep from smiling at the comparison. She was so ardent, so fierce. She was absolutely magnificent.
And it was absolutely the wrong time to be noticing that.
“No, I didn’t do this on purpose. I just have an unfortunate tendency to make the utterly worst decisions in any given situation. If there is a way to ruin something, hurt someone…I’ll find a way to do it. And it seems like the harder I try to keep bad things from happening, the worse things get.”
She tilted her head, watching him as he tried to shove some escaping dirt back into the raised planter. “No one’s luck is that bad.”
He snorted. “I used to think that, too. But welcome to my life. I’m still running from the last time I tried to right a wrong I committed. You think I’d learn by now to do the opposite of whatever my instincts are. Or maybe I should just remove myself from society altogether. Everyone would probably be a lot safer.”
He chuckled, but she looked at him with an expression that seemed an awful lot like pity. And that was the last thing he wanted from anyone.
He let out a deep sigh and took the plant she was trying to replant from her hand. “Let me.”
“I can do—”
“I’m aware of how capable you are,” he said. “That doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own. Especially when it isn’t your mess to clean up. Besides, you’re getting your bandage dirty. I don’t want that finger to get infected.”
She sat back on her heels and glanced down at her bandaged hand. “And what would you do if it did get dirty?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “Would you suck it clean again?”
Her soft question sent a heated bolt of desire straight to his gut, and he gripped the planter box so tightly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the wood drew blood. He focused on breathing and fighting against the urge to toss her over his shoulder. It was a battle he really didn’t want to win.
He stood and moved toward her, slowly enough that she could stop him. She didn’t. When he reached her side of the planter box, he held out his hand. Barely a heartbeat passed before she slipped her hand into his and let him draw her up.
He gently brushed off the dirt that clung to her injured hand. “Would you like me to?” He brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm.
Her hand trembled in his, and he nipped at the soft pad of flesh at the base of her thumb, drawing a gasp from her that had his blood roaring. She stepped willingly into his arms when he tugged on her hand.
“What are you doing, Nora?” he murmured, rubbing his nose along her jawline.
She tilted her head to give him better access to her neck, and he brushed his lips across the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.
“I’m not doing anything,” she breathed. “Yet.”
“What’s stopping you?” he whispered in her ear, his pulse pounding when she shivered in his arms.
She lifted her head and brushed her lips across his cheek in a tentative kiss. “If you would just sign the papers, we—”
He abruptly let go of her, feeling like someone had just doused him in ice water. “I should have known I was making yet another mistake.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nora staggered back. “What? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Adam repeated, not bothering to keep his anger from his voice. He turned and started toward the barn. “I just keep walking right into your traps, don’t I?” he said over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room!”
“To your…” Right. The barn. “Would you stop?”
