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“Do you have a first aid kit?” I ask, knowing if she doesn’t, then she needs one.
“I think I saw one in the kitchen. But you don’t have to carry me. I smell like shit!” It’s like she just realized with the way her head pops up from my shoulder, eyes wide.
“Believe me, I know,” I tell her as I open the back doorto her place and take a few steps forward, planting her on the kitchen counter. She has made the place nice. It is a vast improvement already to what it was. It has life. Character. I carefully help her adjust her leg on the stool so she is comfortable, and she closes her eyes, taking a breath like she is exhausted. Looking at the backyard and then back at her, I have a feeling she has been working all day and all night to get this place to how it looks today.
“You still are not taking no for an answer, are you?” she asks with a quirked eyebrow, resigned to the fact that I am looking after her leg whether she likes it or not. I lean across her to grab a small twig from her hair, our bodies close. We are merely inches apart, and I can feel her hot breath trace across my cheek as she looks at me. I have the urge to lean in more, but I blink a few times and come back to earth, grabbing the twig and throwing it across to the sink.
“I rarely do. Only one person has said no to me so far this year, and I am looking at her,” I tell her honestly before I turn around and open the cupboard closest to the refrigerator, knowing that is where Marie always kept her first aid kit, grinning as I see it is still there.
As I walk back to her, a small smile on my face, I have a feeling this might be our ceasefire.
14
VICTORIA
Mortification doesn’t really come close to what I am feeling at the moment. Completely immobile, lost most of my independence since I can’t walk or even limp and currently smell like a disgusting sewer with goat shit all over me. Not to mention, I am still in my robe, so I am completely self-conscious that I am almost nude. And to top it off, the person coming to my rescue is the one man who is trying to take my land.
“I have ruined your shirt,” I murmur as I look at him. He is dressed differently today in suit pants and a crisp white shirt—well, except for the mud that now coats it—like he has just come from a business meeting.
“It’s just a shirt.” His eyes stay on the first aid kit as he digs around for whatever he is looking for.
“It’s a nice shirt.” I like the way it fits over his broad shoulders.
“It’s still just a shirt,” he confirms, his eyes meeting mine before running down my body quickly, then goingback to the first aid kit. He is wearing a different Rolex than the last time I saw him. This one is silver and glistens in the light every time he moves his wrist.
I catch my reflection in the kitchen window and almost die on the spot. I look like I was dragged through the forest backward. My hair is everywhere, twigs and grass sticking out from my strands. As suspected, I have dirt all over my cheeks, and my nose is swollen and a little red. I belong in a horror movie.
“You look fine,” he mumbles next to me, my hands stopping midair as they brush through my hair.
“I look like I have been deserted in a forest for a century!” I didn’t think he was that old, but can he not see me properly?
He looks over at me, those eyes drifting down my body once more, and my traitorous heart starts to thud at his inspection.
“You look good to me.”
I almost forget to breathe.Is he complimenting me?As I stare at his side profile, I notice his jaw pop.
“I will pay for your dry cleaning,” I tell him, wondering if there is a dry cleaner in Whispers or if I have to take it to a nearby town.
“No need.” He’s now a man of few words, it seems. The air feels a little thick between us with it being so quiet in my kitchen. This is the first time we have been together like this, in a small space for a longer period of time.
He concentrates on grabbing the bandages and antiseptic, and I observe the small creases in his face, showing history, dependability. The dark stubble on hisjaw has a scattering of gray, making him look both distinguished and rugged. What is it like to kiss a man with stubble? Josh was always clean-shaven, and past boyfriends the same.
I pull my head away from him and look back out the window. I need to stop these thoughts. He is my neighbor. He is after my land, and I can’t let my guard down. Even if his hard-set face seems to soften for me. I did that with Josh and look what happened. He completely swiped my legs out from under me. He made me feel stupid and unwanted. There is no way I want to ever feel like that again.
“What was with the chopper anyway?” I ask, curious since this debacle all stemmed from that.
“I just got back from a week in the city. We have private guests that come out to the distillery, and I have some booked for lunch this weekend. So, I leave the chopper at the distillery while they are there in case it is needed for a quick getaway or tour of the region. I should have told you about it earlier.” His eyes flick to me.Is that an apology from the grumpiest man I have ever met?
“So Whispers really is a playground for the wealthy, then?”
“I’ll never tell,” he teases, and a small smile comes to my face at his attempt at humor. “So why are you barefoot and only wearing a robe out in the yard?” he asks, and I swallow, my mortification coming back to me full force. At least we are not biting each other's heads off, although I am still wary of him.
“I just showered and was running out quickly to grab some eggs. Obviously, it wasn’t such a good idea.”
“The robe or the eggs?” He lifts my ankle to get a better look at it.
“The robe,” I confirm, wincing as he dabs it with a wet cotton ball.
