“You’re in luck. I happen to be an expert on four inches.” As if he’ll need physical proof, I whip off a pale pink pump that matches the flower’s pedalsandthe oversized, not-at-all doily-like collar of my dress.
Noah covers my hand with his and gently lowers it, and my shoe, to the ground. “Sugar, I’m not sure how to tell you, but that’s not exactly a brag.”
Oh. My. God.He called me sugar and now I’m melting, and I’m chalking that up to the water that perma-hovers in the air. Not that it’s anything new, but anytime I’m around Noah the humidity gets heavier, I swear.
His response and the innuendo hit me, and then I’m blushing and giggling as I once again heft my stiletto in the air. “The heel! Most of myheelsare four inches.”
I jerk the shoe back to my chest and block him with my shoulder just in case. “I’d never use them for digging, though. My shoes can’t get dirty, only me.”
“Noted,” he says, the slide of the spade a punctuation of sorts, and is there no end to my blushing?
I give him a scoffing glare before lowering the roots into the ground, hoping my skirt’s not hiking high enough to expose any cheek—when I’d decided on it this morning, I’d literally thoughtit’s a little short, but it’s not like I’m going to be bending. “There.” I pat down the dirt with my hands, shoring up the stem. “I helped.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he teases, so casual with his relaxed sarcasm.
I give his chest a light thwack without thinking, then I’m thinking far too much about the firm resistance of his pecs and how the moment quickly shifts, going from lighthearted to electric in an instant. Our eyes lock and hold, the two of us staring at each other for a long moment before Noah exhales a breath. “Look, there are things you don’t understand.”
That’s not normally something people say to me, and it immediately makes me want to prove him wrong.Joke’s on you; I know everything.
“I understand perfectly fine,” I say, working to keep the iciness from creeping into my tone. “You’re protective of your grandmother, and so am I. What you should ask yourself is why you’re being so uptight about her dating life.”
He lifts his hands as though waving the white flag, and maybe I did assume the worst and snap back before fully listening. “She’s been sheltered her entire life, always relying on my grandfather for everything, and I guess I’m the kid who thinks they’ll eventually get back together.”
“Yeah, no offense, but that group of women won’t let her go back to a man who can’t satisfy her, and I tend to agree with them.”
Noah goes pale, which, totally fair.
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to make it awkward.”
“You’re so good at it, though.” Amusement dances through his expression and softens his voice.
“I’m good at everything I do,” I retort, but a chime from my phone interrupts before I can tell if he took that as flirting or me being conceited. Eyes glued to my screen, I skim the email reply from a local reporter as I push to my feet. “Speaking of, I’d better get back to the office. Thank you for the landscaping help, I super appreciate it. I’ve scheduled two different companies to come give me bids, but it’s going to be mostly DIY until August.”
“If you’d like, I’ll pull together a quote, and with the family discount, I guarantee I’ll be cheaper. Between my grandparents’ bickering and me playing mediator, I’m gonna be around plenty anyway.”
“Oh.” I just blink, blink, blink, unsure how to respond. “That’s so generous, but with a property this big, we’ll need to hire a professional company.”
His lips roll inward as he nods, compelling me to return to kneeling so I can console him—does he not have a job? As someone who’s recently gone through that, my heart goes out to him. “If you give me your qualifications, I can ask around and maybe point you in the right direction.”
“See that wagon?” He points, as if I could miss it. “Note the name on it.”
“Drayton Sustainable Landscaping and Design,” I read aloud. “Ah, so you work for a landscaper. Makes sense why you know so much about flowers.”
He’s shaking his head, and I’m scrunching my eyebrows, because even during our peaceful stretches he’s so damn confusing. He extends a hand as though we’ve just met, and this is what I get for falling for his dare instead of grabbing a latte and rushing back to the office. “The name’s NoahDrayton.”
Chapter Thirteen
It’s just after midnight on Thursday when I put the finishing touches on tomorrow night’s seminar.
Technically tonight’s seminar, I guess.
My eyes burn from staring at the screen too long, yet I hesitate to close my laptop.
Don’t do it. You know it’s bad for you.
Just five minutes—that’s practically nothing.
It’s a lie, and my brain and body know it, and giving in causes my pulse to quicken.
