“What in the heck do you have a bird feeder back here for?” I asked, my voice muffled. I looked over my shoulder to find Mitch staring at my ass. Which was right at his eye level. And I was wearing a skirt.

“It’s my mom’s. She was in some kind of art group and thought it would look perfect in Garrett’s yard,” Mitch answered, his voice husky.

I quickly found a green notebook and a pen and pulled myself back up. Mitch chose that moment to take a sharp turn and my butt all but hit him in the face. He put his hand up and braced himself. Against my left ass cheek.

I went completely still, unable to move.

Because Mitch was cupping my bum.

“Uh—” I gulped and he moved his hand like he had been burned.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I should learn to take the toe off huh?” he chuckled uneasily.

I sat back down in my seat and gave him a weak smile, my heart hammering in my chest, making me lightheaded.

“That would probably be a good idea if you want to live to see old age,” I said primly.

Mitch pulled up in front of a colonial style house and killed the engine.

“This is it,” he said, sounding like he was choking. He wouldn’t look at me and I knew it had to do with the whole butt-grabbing thing. Things had gotten weird again, which made me incredibly sad because we had actually been getting along lately.

I climbed out of the car, tucking the notebook and pen into my purse. “Thank you so much for riding to my rescue yet again.” We stood there looking everywhere but at each other. We were so incredibly lame. “Um, well you don’t have to stick around. I can call Viv or Mays when I’m finished and have them come and get me.”

Mitch zipped up his coat and grabbed a stocking cap from the backseat, pulling it down over his dark head. “I’ll tag along if it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

I smiled, this time with total sincerity. “I’d like that.”

“I just have to walk around and take some pictures and I’ll be finished. I’ll just use my phone and hope they’re good enough,” I said to Mitch an hour later.

The interview with Mrs. Wagner, the director of the botanical gardens went pretty well. She was a lovely lady that answered all of my questions with a smile and plied me with homemade fudge and hot chocolate. She encouraged me and my “man friend”—as she referred to Mitch—to take a stroll around the grounds. The gardens were closing in thirty minutes but she assured me that staff would be around so I could take as long as I needed.

“You’ve got a decent phone. It’s high res with 1.9 mega pixels, the pictures should be pretty good,” Mitch informed me after having inspecting the camera.

“I had no idea you were so well versed in camera phone specs,” I remarked as we headed out to the topiary garden towards the back of the house. The light was starting to go and I needed to take the pictures quickly. I stopped along the path and snapped a few shots in the dwindling light.

“I’m well versed in lots of things, G,” Mitch said with a smirk.

“Of course, how could I forget?” I hadn’t meant for my voice to go all rough and seductive like. Mitch gave me a heated look and I had to turn away, pretending to be engrossed in the sculpted box hedges.

“Hey, check it out! These bushes are molded in the shape of musical instruments,” I called out, pointing to a grouping of plants towards the back of the garden.

“Pretty cool,” Mitch agreed.

“Come on, Mitch, give me a pose,” I laughed.

Mitch went and stood behind the smaller bush shaped like a guitar and made a show of banging his head up and down, sticking out his tongue á la Gene Simmons.

I took a few pictures, not able to stop giggling as Mitch’s faces became more absurd as he played rock star. I looked down at the screen of my phone, flipping through the snaps. “These would make a great album cover,” I teased.

Mitch jumped over the bush and grabbed my phone. “I look awesome!”

I snatched my phone back and gave him a playful shove. “It’s good to know your ego is in check,” I snipped.

“I only call it like it is.” He rustled my hair and I swatted his hand away. “Oh, I forgot how much you hate having your hair messed with,” Mitch grinned.

“You’re hair may look good in the just rolled around on the ground way, but mine certainly doesn’t,” I said, giving him a good case of stink eye.

“Whatever, G, you always look beautiful.” Mitch, realizing what he said, closed his mouth and quickly walked towards a wisteria that threaded around a statue of naked man

“What’s up with this guy? He looks like he’s in pain. And more importantly, why is he in the buff?” Mitch commented, clearly trying to change the subject.

I cocked my head to the side. “I think he’s trying to push that boulder up a hill. Though why he’s doing it naked is anyone’s guess.” The light was almost gone and I could see the staff start to head out to their cars. “I think we should get going. I’ve gotten enough pictures.”

“Okay. Let’s head out.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and started jangling them in his hand. I reached out and took the keys, my fingers lingering momentarily as I touched him.

“You know I hate it when you do that,” I said.

Mitch held out his hand. “I won’t do it again. I promise,” he teased with a smile.

I gave him back his keys and this time when our fingers made contact neither of us moved away. Mitch wrapped his hand around mine, the keys wedged between our palms.

“I had fun today, Gracie,” he said, looking down at me.

“Me too. I didn’t think we could ever be like this again,” I added in hushed tones.

“Be like what?” he asked.

“Like Mitch and Gracie.”

Mitch’s thumb slowly stroked the underside of my wrist where my pulse fluttered madly. “I always liked Mitch and Gracie.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “I miss them a lot.”

Mitch frowned, looking perturbed. “I’ve said some pretty harsh things to you recently. First at the Norfolk show. Then at Garrett’s. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, Mitch. I get it. I really do. You’ve been really angry with me. We do need to find a way to be around each other that all parties are comfortable with.” I sounded like I was trying to mediate in court.

Mitch ignored my dorkiness.

We were still holding hands, standing close together. I was scared to say anything else. I didn’t want to ruin this incredibly important moment.

“I’m comfortable like this,” he said softly. So softly. His thumb still stroking the tender, vulnerable skin of my wrist.

I licked my lips that were suddenly very dry. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t say any of them. Words were insufficient. Unnecessary. Mitch and I had always been able to read each other. He knew what lived inside my head better than I did.

We stared into each other’s eyes in the dying sunlight and I felt it. The connection we had always shared. It was still there, underneath the bullshit and drama. Strong as ever.

“We should get back,” I reminded him. I could see Mrs. Baker waiting by the gate for us so she could lock up.

Mitch dropped my hand and quickly turned away from me as though embarrassed. Wait. Did I do something wrong?

I put my hand on his arm. “Mitch, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s cool. We need to get back to Bakersville. I’m supposed to go to Sophie’s later anyway.” He was suddenly so cold. The warm, open Mitch I had just become reacquainted with disappeared totally.

“Yeah, well I don’t want you to be late,” I spat. I couldn’t help the nastiness that dripped off my tongue. I was annoyed with him for getting upset with me for no real reason. I was annoyed with myself for interrupting a great moment. I was annoyed with Mrs. Wagner who was impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for us to leave.