The Gentrys: Abby

The heat from his nearness radiated right through her long-sleeved shirt. But the flush of warmth overtaking her came from deep inside, not from sizzling skin. And here she’d thought the evening had been rather cool up until now.

Hmm. Had he just asked her a question?

“How are you feeling, Gray?” She tried to steady her shaky voice. “I checked with the hospital, and they told me you’d gone home almost as soon as you got there. Have you recovered fully?” She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye.

“There was no need to make such a big fuss,” he dipped his chin. “Your antivenom did the job. Another couple of hours rest at the shack and I could’ve easily made it home on my own.”

Abby wished she could see his eyes. He sounded so stilted. So far away. It was hard enough to stand here beside him when he looked so tall and tough. The Gray she’d saved had been lean and muscular, but injured he hadn’t seemed so…savage.

Then he turned to face her. “The wind’s changed.”

She’d been wrong to want to see his eyes. So wrong.

They were black, bottomless pools that appeared to see right through her skin to the scared little rabbit hiding inside. She tried to turn her face toward the corral again, but his dark-as-pitch gaze held her spellbound and speechless.

“The stallion is quieting some. Guess everyone’s gone back to the tables to eat.” He seemed about ready to reach over and touch her shoulder but stopped just short and turned back toward the corral. “Why aren’t you off with the rest of them at the party, princess? After all, the whole thing is in your honor.”