“We have dinner reservations at seven,” I digress through her closed-lipped reply. “Wear something you’d wear for Bobby. We obviously have the same taste in women.”
Chapter 10
Meirna
Two years ago…
“You really should wear one of those orange vests. You’re starting to become a safety hazard.”
Mindlessly, I glance up at the male voice who just protruded through my irritation at the mess of red mulch that just slipped from the bag I was holding. I clash with light green eyes that possess the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Short, dark brown hair with matching stubble along the sharp edges of his jawline. Cheekbones carved by a plastic surgeon.
They have to be.
There is no way a man who looks this good, naturally formed like that.
He’s fake.
There’s no other explanation for it, and I won’t accept another one.
“There was a hole in the bag,” I offer as my excuse, which sounds even stupider now, admitting that I still picked it up and hoped like an idiot that it wouldn’t rip.
“So you’re a rebel,” he deadpans, slowly haunching down to get on my level. “I didn’t know we allowed those.”
My skin snakes with awareness of how close he is. Excitement and nerves blend in an obvious combination that serves no purpose here.
I’m here to plant trees, renovate the city of Stonehaven, and spruce up the drapey vibe here. Not meet attractive men and brazenly eye-fuck them because we can’t help ourselves.
“We don’t,” I force as casually as I can without stammering. “But I’m running this thing, so I’m as corrupt as the next.”
He lifts a brow. “Interesting. I didn’t know revolutionaries were five foot five with Britney Spears shirts on.”
My cheeks betray me with a raging blush that I know I can’t pose as overheating.
It’s hot, blistering so, but my cheeks are lava—bright, red, and indulging in the thought thatthisman noticed me.
And my Britney tee.
I fold my hands together. “We like to stay on the downlow, if you don’t mind.”
The corners of his mouth lift just a fraction before he shoves his hands underneath my broken bag of mulch and rises to his feet. “Where do you want it, boss?”
I don’t remember.
All my plans I had for the day just skipped out and left me. Now I just want to stare athimall day doing whatever it is he does.
Pick a plant, Meirna. You’re being weird.
“Pick the closest tree,” I mutter, gesturing for him to go have at it while I try to pull myself together.
I wasnotexpecting a volunteer to look likehimtoday, and…frankly, my brain isn’t strong enough to fully compute or operate around one.
I’m tired, had three sips of cold coffee—which is vile in my book—and I am fully confident I look like crap.
My curls are frizzy, sweat has been plastered to my skin forhours under the summer sun, and now Adonis wants to pick right now to show his presence.
It’s comical.
