He waited for her to say more, and when she didn’t, he resisted the strange need to probe further and find out about their relationship.

After Greta caught another trout, she retreated to the blanket with her mending. A short while later, Astrid curled up next to her, all tuckered out. The next time Wyatt glanced over at them, Greta had stretched out and fallen asleep too.

As he swallowed a yawn, he had the urge to lie down and rest. With half a dozen fish on a line in a shallow pool, why not give himself a break? After stowing the poles and bait, he lowered himself next to Greta. Careful not to disturb her, he crossed his arms behind his head, tugged the brim of his hat down over his face, and closed his eyes.

A tickle against his cheek startled him awake, and he tipped up his hat. For a second, he was disoriented and tried to gain his bearings. At the sight of the deserted riverbank and Greta and Astrid still sleeping next to him, he allowed himself to relax.

From the position of the sun, he guessed he hadn’t slept long—maybe half an hour. There was still time to rest a spell longer, maybe catch a few more fish, before heading back.

As he shifted, he awakened to the pressure of Greta snuggled against him, her hand resting on his chest and her head on his arm. The wind blew wisps of her hair across his face. Her knot had come loose and now her hair spread out like newly harvested golden-brown strands of grain.

His entire body suddenly hummed and his every nerve tuned in to her nearness. He liked having her next to him but the second she woke, she’d probably pull away in embarrassment.

Though a warning went off inside him, reminding him he needed to be careful, he caressed the hair that lay on his chest. It was fine and glossy and cascaded through his fingers.

He had the overwhelming need to stroke her cheeks and chin and neck. He fought against his desire, but at her soft, sleepy sigh, one filled with contentment, his fingers moved from her hair to her face. Shifting enough to see her features, he caressed her cheek, down to her chin, and back up.

Her long eyelashes fluttered.

Even as the warning inside clanged louder, he ignored it and drew a line to her mouth, tracing the slight bow above her upper lip. His muscles tightened with the need to finish his perusal with his mouth.

Her fingers splayed across his heart, searing through his vest and shirt. And when her hand slid up his neck as though testing the feel of him, he held his breath.

Was she awake? Or still partly asleep?