Batter of Wits (Green Valley Chronicles #22) - Smartypants Romance Page 0,55
her smile and turned slightly. "So it seems."
"This is a nice place."
"You've never been in here?" she asked, walking to the kitchenette and peering in the fridge with a frown. "I don't have much to offer you, unfortunately. Some cheap wine and Diet Coke and that's about it."
I shook my head. "No thanks, and um, no, I haven't. Never had cause to when I've been here to see your aunt and uncle. The times I’ve been here for Conner, Levi was never around. Not much cause to see the inside."
"Ice water?" she asked, holding an empty glass.
"Sure." I wasn't thirsty, but she seemed nervous, flitting from spot to spot in the kitchen. She reminded me of a butterfly, trying to find a safe place to land. While she filled the cup with ice, I pulled the edge of her laptop to face me.
A shot filled the screen, and I vaguely remembered her taking it, aiming her lens straight up the trunk of one of the massive trees we passed. The picture made me feel tiny, insignificant compared to the towering tree and the ones surrounding.
I whistled. "Grace," I shook my head, "this is … incredible."
Her cheeks were flushed pink when she set down the water and stood next to me. Together, we stared at the image of the trees. She pointed to a spot on the screen that I hadn't noticed. "I need to tweak that part, I didn't catch the light the way I wanted, but it's a good start."
"I can't imagine being able to see the world this way."
"What way?" She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"Your eyes see all the same things I do, but I'd never think to change my perspective like that." I moved my gaze from her profile back to the screen. I gestured to the mousepad. "May I?"
The way her eyes filled her face, wide and sweet, reminded me of the way she listened to me speak when we were sitting at the picnic table. She nodded. "As long as you don't judge the lack of editing."
"It was the first thing I noticed," I said around a smile. "How terrible they looked."
Grace dug her elbow into my side.
"Ouch," I muttered.
My big, clumsy fingers tried to move the cursor on the screen, but I wasn't sure where to go, when she finally took pity and nudged me to the side. Her shoulder pressed against my arm, and I debated whether I should move out of the way.
But she didn't.
So I decided not to either.
We stood like that, with the warmth of her body pressed against my side, for a few minutes while she showed me the shots she'd taken. Briefly, I glanced down at the top of her head to gauge her height without the ever-present boots. Grace was tall, but with bare feet, she barely cleared my shoulder. I set my hand on the back of the stool just to the side of her, and her shoulder blades slid against the inside of my arm.
I felt like a teenager again, frozen in the seats of the movie theater, trying to contemplate the best way to put my arm around the girl that made my heart race. There was nothing I could do except let my senses touch on each tiny piece of Grace that I was granted access to.
The scent of something clean and light from her skin.
The way her hand curved when she pointed out a detail in a picture that I'd never be able to take for myself.
The edge of her collarbone where it fell in a clean, straight line under the skin on her chest, the skin that looked impossibly soft.
I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, focusing on the way she leaned against my arm. Focused on how she didn't pull away.
Those shoulder blades on my skin, covered only by the thin straps of her white tank top, rattled something loose inside me.
Something hungry. Starving. Ravenous.
With my eyes closed, I heard the shaky way she inhaled when I gripped the back of the stool and curled my arm more firmly into her, when I turned my nose toward the top of her head and pulled in a deep breath of that scent.
When I looked down, her hands were fisted on the countertop, shaking from the effort of keeping them still.
"I'd take a picture of that," I told her, voice low and charged.