“Helping you clean,” she says. “I figure we can rock-paper-scissors for all the chores.”
“Rock-paper-what?”
She pantomimes the game.
I shake my head. “I know what you’re talking about. Why would we do that?”
“So you can’t say I stuck you with all the bad ones.”
I sigh. This woman is exhausting me. My entire body is tense because I’m trying not to smell her or let her get too close, but her constant yammering makes it so I’ll probably never actually get hard.
Who the fuck am I kidding? She could be covered in cow shit, and I’d probably still be attracted to her.
Taylor sings another line about dancing, and I have an urge to pull Tally closer. An urge I resist by dunking my hands in the water. “Grab the rest of the dishes. You cooked. I’ll clean.”
“Oh, so we have roles. I’ll do the cooking, you do the cleaning?” She knocks her hip against mine before rounding the kitchen to get the rest of the dirty dishes. “Look at us, being such good roommates already.”
“You’re giving me a headache with all your talking,” I mumble.
She rolls her eyes and sways her hips but remains quiet while we finish cleaning up the kitchen. “I’m going to head up to bed,” she says after a few minutes, right before reaching past me to put the last dish away.
As if she wants to torture me, that floral scent floats right around me, forcing my body to turn like a damn sunflower in search of the sun.
“Good night.” I grunt.
Tally pauses in front of me, nibbling on her lip. “What’s your plan for the morning?”
“Got stuff to do on the farm.”
“Like what?”
It’s like she has some power over me as, once again, I find myself turning back to stare into those eyes of hers. “If I say cowboy stuff will you let it go?”
Her lips hook into another heart-stopping smile. “Glad you’re coming around to my way of thinking.”
I run a hand over my mouth to hide the beginnings of a grin. “And what are your plans?”
She smacks her palms together in excitement. “Oh my gosh, look at you, having a full conversation!”
My smile turns into a glower. She giggles, and fuck it, my stomach flips. I’m like a teenage girl with all of these emotions. My nostrils flare in irritation.
“I’ll go to the grocery store,” she tells me. “Get some food for the week.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, searching for the farm’s credit card. When I push it toward her, she steps back, shaking her head. “I’ve got it.”
“It’s how things run on the farm. The business pays for it all.”
“But—”
I refuse to back down on this. “It’s how your father wanted it done.”
A somber expression softens her face, and she swallows with a nod. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.
She takes the card and turns to leave, but I have to make this right before she goes to bed. “You as good at making Italian as barbecue?”
Tally spins back to me, her eyes shining. “You like Italian?”
I hold her stare as I nod.
