“Hey! I am well above the average height for women. I’m just not a giant like you.”
He shrugs, taking another bite of his fritter.
He really does look ridiculous, sitting crisscross applesauce, eating a fritter he could easily down in one bite. His usual flannel is replaced by a simple gray long-sleeve shirt that’s already rolled up, showing off his forearms, which are far too good looking, especially as they flex every time he takes a bite.
I look away, taking my own small nibble of the breakfast treat I brought, even though I’m not hungry. Anything to distract myself. Anything to not have Noah occupying my thoughts like he has been every waking moment.
“Nice panties, Odie.”
I internally scold myself for the reminder, then take another bite.
Noah scarfs down his first fritter, then the second in no time flat.
I’ve managed only four bites of mine by the time he’s finished his.
“Are you about done, or are you going to nibble that like a rabbit the rest of the morning?” he asks as he stands. He grabs a tool belt, securing it around his waist. I swallow, telling myself I don’t suddenly find men with tool belts hot. “We have shit to do.”
“You’re cranky today,” I accuse, following him up. I don’t bother wiping the dust off my bottom. I’m sure I’ll get even dirtier by the day’s end. “Good thing I brought you a fritter to cheer you up.”
“Yes, the fritter that made you late and put us behind schedule.”
I narrow my eyes. “And yet you’re not cranky, right?”
“No. I just want to get started. I have other things to do around the farm, you know.”
“Is this because of the report on Chelsea that she’s marrying that quarterback?”
He comes to a halt, slowly turning toward me. “What?”
Oh. He hasn’t heard. That much is clear from the look on his face. The shock in his brown gaze. The hard set of his lips.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “I, uh, I figured you were extra crabby because they announced their engagement today. I saw it on Instagram this morning while waiting for my coffee ...” I trail off as one of his brows goes up. “I take it you didn’t know?”
He shakes his head once, then turns, going back to work like I said nothing.
I sigh. I have a feeling this is going to be a long, long day.
And I’m right. Itisa long day.
Noah’s in a bad mood, not uttering a single word my way, just cussing out the wood as he breaks down the old stalls. At some point he silently handed me a pair of safety glasses—I guess so nothing flies out and accidentally hits me—then went right back to work like nothing happened.
He didn’t even stop for lunch—which I can’t really fault him for, given our history—so I decided to work through it, too, not wanting to piss him off any more than I already had by being late and delivering the blow his ex-wife has officially moved on.
I’m surprised he’s so upset by it. I didn’t think he was still hung up on her, but maybe I had it all wrong about their relationship. Maybe he cares more than he’s let on.
When it finally hits five, Noah throws a crowbar down, then the other one he’s been using to bash in the walls of the old stalls. It doesn’t take much work to break them down since they were already falling apart, but I can tell it’s cathartic for him, anyway.
“I’m done.”
I look up to find him with his hands on his hips, breaths coming in harsh as sweat rolls down his face.
“Oh?”
He nods. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t made us work through lunch, you wouldn’t be,” I mutter, tucking my hammer into my back pocket and peeling off my matching gloves.
“I didn’t makeyouwork through lunch.”
