Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series Read Online Free

has a pretty scent,” she suggested, handing him a slim spray of flowers. He took the stem from her, his fingers touching hers. Deliberately. The soft-rough brush of his calloused skin against hers kicked the heat in her belly—and lower—up a notch. She’d have to change her panties after he left. His eyes flared as if he knew. Which was impossible.
    “This one’s sweet,” he agreed, leaning forward and tucking the stem into the bouquet she was building. The sexy look of concentration on his face as he maneuvered the flower into place, big fingers stroking down the petals, almost overruled her sensible side. She didn’t know him. If Rafer Breaux rarely left the bayou, well, she never went in the bayou.
    He pulled his hands away, but not before she got a good look at the nicks and scars carving up his fingers. Knives, fishing lines… She didn’t know what would mark a man so deeply, but his hands were strong and capable, a road map of doing what had to be done. Some primitive part of her responded to the way he wore his scars like a badge of honor. He was strong.
    She reached for a sheet of lacy paper, rolling the flowers up into a neat cone. They were almost done here. He’d leave, get back in his boat and return to the bayou. And yet, for some reason, she wanted to prolong the moment. Keep him with her.
    He turned away, examining another table loaded with lilies. The stargazers filled the greenhouse with their lush, exotic scent.
    “These,” he said, reaching out.
    “Don’t touch.”
    Too late. He jerked back, head swinging around to hers, frozen with his fingers brushing the stamen. Like he’d done something far worse than touch a flower.
    “No touching.” His deep voice was more growl than anything. “You got it, chère .”
    “They stain,” she explained awkwardly. Grabbing a damp cloth from the table, she took his hand in hers before she could think too much, swiping carefully at the pollen. His hand was warm and firm, deliberately relaxed in hers. Despite her best efforts, the stamen left a dark orange-red streak on the masculine hand cradled in hers. Curious, she ran a finger over his palm. Blinked. She'd thought she’d seen something. A strange shimmer and a hint of fur.
    “I need to tell you something.” He paused, his gaze pinning hers. She let go of his hand and retreated backwards a step. “I need you to listen to me, chère .”
    “Okay.” She cut stargazers, giving the pollen-heavy stamens a hit of hairspray to hold the pollen in before adding the fragrant buds to Rafer’s bouquet. When his hand on her arm gently turned her to face him, the greenhouse felt too small. She felt too feminine. And yet she could see the farm's other workers through the glass walls, so everything had to be okay. She didn’t feel threatened. He was big and dominant, but he was being deliberately careful. “You  changed your mind about the flowers?” she asked lightly.
    “No.” An indecipherable look flashed over his face. “Your nannan ever talk to you about the families living out in the bayou?”
    She’d lived almost a lifetime here on the bayou. The Breaux brothers weren’t entirely unfamiliar, although she’d never had more than a passing glimpse of one brother or another before they’d been gone. Spotting them had been like spotting a wild animal. A quick flash that had her doubting her eyes and then nothing, the men blending seamlessly into their bayou surroundings and disappearing. She didn’t even know how old they were. They were fine-looking men, and at least one of them had to be her age, but she’d met none of them in school. Some of those old bayou families didn’t bother with a formal education, so she’d thought nothing about it. She hadn’t met them in town or at the market either. The Breaux brothers were a mystery. Six feet of tall, dark mystery.
    “Sure she talked.” She stared at the lacy scrap of ribbon she’d tied around the paper-wrapped bouquet. That stab of pain