Read Online Love Redesigned by Sloane B. Collins - Free Book Online Page A

shrugged. “Have you had a chance to look around the property since you arrived?” His voice sounded stilted, distant.
    Is he embarrassed about the kiss last night, too?
    She shook her head. “Not much. I’ve been busy baking and helping Connie Sue. It looks beautiful from what little I have seen.” She blushed, not wanting to allude to their encounter in the potting shed. She was still too raw from the emotions of the day before.
    “It is good the wedding is in a few days, for you are here during the growing season for the grapes and lavender.” He slowed the car and pointed to a field to the right of them.
    Lavender grew profusely in neat rows, as far as the eye could see. She sighed. “Magnificent!”
    Roman drove farther up the road, then pulled off onto a gravel lane. The dark purple blooms lined both sides of the narrow lane, and beyond lay a field of sunflowers. A building came into view, a crumbling ruin of some sort.
    “What is this place?” she asked, thoroughly charmed by the sight.
    Roman got out of the car, and she opened her door and climbed out. He rounded the hood and she caught him frowning at her. Did he expect me to wait for him to open the door?
    “It is the ruins of a Cistercian Abbey. I thought you might like to see it. You were always fascinated by the old buildings in Paris.”
    He remembered . A pang sliced through her stomach.
    “You said once you were born in the wrong time. But if that were the case, I would not have met you.”
    He reached into the back of the car and pulled out a basket. He brushed her arm but stepped away quickly, leading the way to the crumbling abbey.
    “I brought some croissants and coffee, if you’re hungry.” He pulled a cloth out of the basket, opened it, and let it drift down on a clearing in the grass next to the low wall. They sat, and he pulled the croissants out of the basket, handed one to her on a napkin.
    She bit into the croissant, and the buttery flavor tasted so good she moaned.
    He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.
    “There is nothing like a real French croissant, fresh-baked in the morning.” She savored every bite, and was tempted to have another.
    He grinned at her, and bit into his own croissant.
    Sipping the hot coffee, she listened to the silence of the morning. She desperately wanted to ask him why he never called her, never told her himself he had found someone else. They needed to talk, but now, the words wouldn’t come. And she really didn’t want to fight.
    But she was afraid.
    Afraid of herself, and for her dreams.
    He held up the thermos of coffee. “Would you like some more?”
    “Yes, thanks.” She held the cup out toward him, and he put his fingers over hers to steady the cup as he poured.
    “What happened to your hand?” he asked, setting the thermos down. He slid the cup out of her hand and set it down on the low wall, then tilted her hand to look at it closer. His fingers were warm around hers, and he traced the scar at the base of her thumb with the tip of one finger.
    Little sparks of fire filtered up her arm from his touch, and she tried hard not to tremble. “A pan of boiling sugar overturned, and I tried to catch it.”
    “It is a shame to have such lovely skin marred, but it shows the strength you have in doing what you do.” He leaned forward, hesitated over her hand, and kissed the scar. His touch zinged up her arm, warming her insides. Breathless, she wanted to snatch her hand away. Ached to have him do it again.
    Her hands were full of nicks and scars, the hazards of working in a bakery. He traced each one, until she gently pulled her hand away, curling her fingers in.
    It would be too easy to stay here, with him. But Roman being who he was, in high demand by the fashion world, she would never have a life of her own. She was determined not to end up like her mom, where the world revolved around her dad and his needs and demands.
    They enjoyed the peace and quiet. It was as if by mutual agreement,