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“The robe looks good. In need of a wash, but it looks good.” He swallows audibly, and his Adam’s apple bobs. I forget to breathe.
We remain silent for a moment as he cleans my ankle, and I clear my throat. “Apparently, I loved gardening here with Marie when I was younger, so maybe that is why I enjoy running around barefoot so much,” I say with a small smile, trying to inject a little humor before I completely suffocate around this man. His brow furrows as he looks at me.
“She never mentioned anything about you.”
I am not sure if it is meant to be accusing or not, but I let it slide.
“I don’t remember her, and my mom fell out of touch with her over a decade ago, but we visited, and her and my mom wrote to each other.” I want him to know that there is a connection for me here. He can’t just swoop in and take what isn’t his.
“The property has good soil due to the natural springs a few hundred yards away on your property, so you should be able to grow anything,” he says, and I whip my head around to look at him.
“Natural springs?” I ask, confused. I didn’t see any of that mentioned in the plan or the paperwork I signed.
“Just over the backyard and down the hill. They are yours. On your property. I don’t think they are listed on the plans, but the kids from town, from time to time,like to sneak in and take a dip. Otherwise, it is left alone.”
“Is that why you want the place?” I ask, broaching the sore subject.
“One of,” he confirms simply, and I leave it at that.
“I plan on going exploring some more once I get the house in a bit more order. Although now my plans might be delayed.” I wince again as I attempt to move my leg slightly. His eyes shoot to me, deep concern etched in his brow before he realizes I am okay.
“What else have you got planned?” He seems genuinely interested as he opens a Band-Aid.
“I have new blinds getting installed on Monday. I also have someone coming to help replace the shower screen and bathroom vanity later in the week.” He looks at me surprised but doesn’t say anything. “I work fast when I am passionate about something.” I shrug.
“There, as good as new. Maybe don’t go walking around out there barefoot anymore. You’re on a farm, so you need to wear boots; it’s common sense.”
I am not sure whether to thank him for his caring nature or be annoyed at him for telling me what to do.
“Are you trying to tell me what to do on my own property? Or are you saying I have no common sense?” I ask as I try to wiggle off the kitchen counter, feeling at a disadvantage.
He sighs. “You need proper boots is all I’m saying.” His head shakes, and my teeth grind. “And a shower.”
“You need to stop telling me what to do,” I say sharply. “I am perfectly fine.” My argument would hold more weight if I wasn’t still struggling to get off this stupidkitchen counter without exposing my black lace underwear to him.
“Let’s go,” he says as his hands wrap around my waist, and he lifts me completely off the counter like I weigh nothing.
“Ahh, where arewegoing?” I ask through a squeal, looking at him like he is crazy.
“Think you can get to the shower by yourself? Be my guest.” Setting me on my feet gently, he makes an exaggerated sway of his arms, encouraging me to go and sort myself out while he stands firm, just looking at me.
“You are infuriating,” I mumble as I hobble a little, trying to prove to him that I can walk just fine on my own but failing.
“I’m infuriating? You’re a pain in my ass,” he says honestly from beside me, sounding much too casual about it while looking ready to catch me when I fall.
“Pain in your ass?You’rea pain inmyass.” I make it to the base of the stairs, then look up, not knowing how I am going to do this on my own.
“I’ll get you up there, don’t you worry.” Stepping forward, he swoops me back up into his arms. I quietly seethe in his warm embrace, scrunching my nose, acutely aware that we both now smell like a sewer.
“You are such an asshole,” I murmur as I grip on to his shirt, his skin hot underneath.
“I’m helping you, aren’t I,” he grits out.
“It is because of you I am in this position,” I say, exasperated at the entire situation. I hate feeling like a burden, as now as my devastatingly good-looking neighbor walks me up my stairs to the bathroom, I feelexactly that. A burden. “If it wasn’t for your stupid helicopter. Who the hell has their own helicopter anyway?” I continue to push him as he places me at the dresser in my room so I can grab some fresh clothes, and I yank the drawer open with purpose.
“I do. I also have my own distillery, my own real estate portfolio, my own city office, my own jet, a penthouse in Manhattan, and a son.” His voice rises, even though he’s apparently keen to share his entire life with me. Slamming the drawer shut, I open the next one with even more force.
“Why are you so angry with me? This is all your fault!” I shout, throwing some sweats on the bed, along with a shirt, before I look up at him. He is breathing quickly, just as riled up as I am, and neither of us is backing down. As angry as I am at him, he is still the most handsome man I have ever met, and his eyes sparkle back at me, making my heart pound harder.
