Page 35 of One Kind Soul

In fifteen minutes, Christian was on Zip and Nicole was on Clover. Christian led them to huge fields where he named what would grow in each this season. Then he took them to the orchard where they meandered through the rows of budding trees. They stopped by a lovely pond where an exceptional view of Birch Peak Mountain, Mount Woodrich, and Brenton Mountain revealed how nestled the town of Maplehaven was.

The horseback tour ended with a stop at a small store on the property. The building was so quaint with its dark wood exterior and collection of old wagon wheels lining one side of it.

“The grounds look wonderful, Christian,” Nicole said as they walked the horses back to the barn.

“Old Man Shepherd kept the land up nicely.” He removed Zip’s saddle and Nicole removed Clover’s. “I’d like to do more though. Growing the food and apples is great, but I’ve always had the sense this farm was about more than that.”

“It certainly is a serene place.”

“Yeah. It’s a place where you can think.” He led the horses into their stalls then met Nicole in the middle of the barn. He took her hands in his, his thumbs running over her knuckles and firing her up. “Wanna know what I’m thinking right now?”

“It’s probably the same thing I’m thinking.”

“God, I hope so.”

Christian pulled her up against him and melded his mouth to hers. All the heat they’d experienced yesterday instantly returned, igniting Nicole in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. Sure, other guys had turned her on, but Christian flicked a switch in her that instantly sent her temperature soaring. The kiss automatically engulfed her in flames and the longer it went on, the longer she wanted it to go on. Here they were in the center of a barn with actual horses snorting and huffing a few feet away, and yet the mood wasn’t destroyed. Not at all.

When the kiss subsided, Nicole inhaled deeply. “Don’t you love the smell of a farm?”

Christian’s head jolted back a little. “You . . . you like how it smells in here?”

She took in another breath. “I love it. So earthy. I mean, you keep animals here, you grow food . . . it’s so wonderful.”

He gaped at her, his mouth slightly open.

“What?” She squinted up at him. “Don’t you think it’s wonderful?”

“Of course I think it’s wonderful.” He put his hand to his chest. “I didn’t expect you to like it so much. Some visitors have complained about the smell or the dirt or the quiet.”

“Who complains about quiet?”

“I know, right?”

“Working at the resort and living at the beach house close to the touristy areas means there’s a constant flow of people and voices and noise.” Nicole spread her arms out wide. “A place like this is a sanctuary.” One she would have loved having as a kid when her damn sister was tormenting her. On a property like this, she would have had any number of places to hide. Instead, she’d grown up in a small house where there had never been any escape. She’d tried hiding, but Lynda always knew where to find her. Find her and chip away at her, mean word by mean word.

Looking at you makes me want to puke, Princess Uggers.

“Let me show you the house.” Christian ran his hands up and down her arms as if he sensed she needed that type of touch, that type of comforting.

He led her toward a gorgeous farmhouse with a porch made for rocking chairs and lemonade. Cats milled around the low bushes lining the porch.

“My familiars.” Christian flourished his arm at the felines. “All five of them.”

“I’ve never met a man with five cats.” She crouched and three of them came right over to her, headbutting her outstretched hand, her knee, her ankle.

“I am an original, Nixen.” He pointed to each of the cats. “That’s Tibbs, Leaf, and Nina who have greeted you.” He waved to the stairs where two more cats, both gray fluffballs, sat at each end of the bottom step. “Those two pretending to be gargoyles are Pebbles and Roxie.”

“They make quite a nice collection.” Nicole straightened. “I’ve never had any pets.”

“Not even as a kid?” He started up the steps and she followed.

“No.”

“Somebody in your family allergic to animals? Because that I can forgive. I’ll never be a beekeeper, you know?”

“Right. That’d be asking for trouble, but no. No one was allergic.” She drew in a breath. She never talked about this stuff, but Christian made her comfortable. She . . . she wanted to tell him. “The story goes that my sister, Lynda, who is eight years older than I am, got a bunny for her seventh birthday. She was . . . rough with it and my mom maintains there was an accident, but my father has suggested that maybe Lynda had something to do with the bunny’s demise.” She swallowed around her dry throat as Christian stood silently before her. “Judging by the way my sister treated me most of the time, I lean toward my father’s account being more accurate.”

“Your sister was rough with you?” Christian’s brows furrowed with concern, and though everything with her sister had happened years and years ago, she appreciated the sentiment.