“You look like you’ve done this before.” Commenting on the way he excelled at a task seemed like a safe topic.
He glanced over at me, then grunted as he swung the axe down again.
Undeterred, I pressed on. “Let me guess. You’re a professional lumberjack, aren’t you? I’ve seen those shows on TV. Do you know how to dance on a rolling log or carve an animal out of a tree trunk?”
His eyes closed for a long beat before he set another log in place and attacked it with the axe.
“Not a lumberjack then. Did you used to live off the grid? Maybe you were a bush pilot in Alaska who had to survive in the wilderness for months at a time. You got used to not being around people, and that’s why you seem to have forgotten how to speak. Is that it?”
A muscle ticked along his jaw. I started to think that baiting a big, burly man with an axe in his hand might not be one of my best decisions. He shook his head and lowered the axe, resting the top part on the ground.
“I’m not looking to make friends.” His voice came out low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in years.
The fact that he’d said anything at all encouraged me to keep pushing. “What are you looking for out here, then?”
He took in a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the mountains. “Peace.”
The way he said that one word, all soft and quiet, almost reverently , made me wonder what he was running from. Shane hadn’t told me much about him except that they’d been friends for a few years and that he trusted Aiden with his life. He’d also said I didn’t have anything to be afraid of with him around.
I didn’t make a habit out of sharing small quarters with strangers, but I felt safe with him. The fact that he avoided me as much as possible probably helped. I didn’t have a ton of experience with men, but I’d never felt like I actively repelled them, either. At least, not until I met him.
Aiden reached for the travel mug on the ground nearby, probably assuming I’d leave it at that and give him some space. I couldn’t let it go, though. We didn’t have to be friends, but would it kill him to engage in a few minutes of dialogue a day? I was used to an office full of co-workers, chatting up my friends at the yoga studio, and meeting up for brunch with girlfriends once a week. Though I absolutely loved being on the ranch, it was taking time to get used to being so isolated.
“We don’t have to be friends,”—I held my mug out to clank against his—“but would it kill you to talk to me every once in a while?”
Like an unreturned fist bump, he left me hanging. Instead of tapping his mug against mine, he lifted it to his lips and took a long sip.
“So it’s like that, is it?” Irritation bubbled in my gut. “You don’t want to make the best of it? Fine. Be a grump. Brood. Stew. Do whatever it is you need to do to get through the day. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
He slowly shook his head back and forth as his eyes rolled toward the sky.
“Are you seriously rolling your eyes at me right now?”
The corner of his lip flicked up for a split second before his mouth settled back into his regular frown. “You asked what I’m looking for out here.”
“Yeah. You said peace. There’s plenty of that. Just look around...”
He put his palm up and my words trailed off. Was he trying to silence me?
“Peace and something else.”
Wondering if I might get some sort of insight into his inner psyche, I leaned forward a smidge. “Peace and what?”
He set down his mug and hoisted the axe back up onto his shoulder. “Quiet.”
Peace and quiet? Of all the nerve. I opened my mouth to let him have it. He glanced over at me as the axe crashed down on the log. I expected to see a cocky glint in his eyes and a smug smirk plastered across his scruffy face. Instead, he looked tired. Like the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders, and he was tired of holding it up.
So instead of launching into a tirade about how dare he talk to me or any other person like that, I turned around and headed back into the barn. If I hadn’t seen that glimpse of bone-tired weariness, I might have decided to leave him to wallow in his grumpiness all alone. He might think he’d derailed my effort to drag him out of his shell, but I could be persistent.
Samson let out a loud meow as he jumped up onto the railing that ran along the horse stalls. I reached up to scratch him behind his ears. “It’s on, now. I’m going to get that growly grump to smile if it’s the last thing I do.”
The cat purred in encouragement.
“Come on, Samson. We’ve got to make a grocery list. We’ll start with everything we need to make a big batch of blueberry muffins.”
CHAPTER 3
AIDEN
