"Hey! Keep your water to yourself. I'm wet enough."
"Are you sure about that?" His gaze roamed over her, and his laughter died when his eyes hit her chest.
Eden looked down and gasped. She'd forgotten she wore a white T-shirt. A T-shirt that now clung to her body, showing off the light blue bra she wore beneath it. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Frick! That's the second time he's seen my bra today.
Rudy cleared his throat. "You...uh... You can have the shower first."
"Thank you!" Eden darted down the hall.
She kept shaking her head as she made sure both bathroom doors were locked before stripping.
Will there ever be an end to the embarrassing situations between us?
As the hot water warmed her chilled body, she tried to ignore the warmth growing in her chest. Every time she turned around, Rudy was either saving her life or doing something incredibly thoughtful. It made it hard to keep telling herself she shouldn't get mixed up with him.
When she turned off the shower, she heard his voice on the other side of the door. "Where are you, Chase? They're killing me! You gotta come help me!"
So he is a gamer!
Eden didn't know why but that knowledge pleased her. Probably because he was the exact opposite of the kind of man her dad expected her to date. Not that she planned to date Rudy, but all of a sudden, she wasn't as opposed to the idea as she was a week ago.
CHAPTER7
Eden woke to the sound of the shower running.
Rudy must be getting ready for work.
A small smile spread over her face as she remembered the events of last night. Everything from watching Rudy play basketball with Chase to hiding Miss Georgie's cookies in his pockets made her laugh. Even the way his wet t-shirt clung to his pecs and abs made her smile, until she'd realized her own wet shirt had become see-through.
Hearing her phone vibrate on the nightstand, she grabbed it, fearing she'd find a text from her dad—it had been a few days since he'd hounded her to come home and do her duty. She turned it on to find tons of Instagram notifications. Her eyebrows rose.
For the first time in a long time, she'd posted a picture last night before going to bed. The dozens of jars of jam were simply too pretty not to share. She'd captioned it with: Yes, it tastes as good as it looks.
She was proud of herself for sticking with the hard work even though she'd wanted to quit on Alice many times.
Who knew making jam could make me feel so worthwhile?
Her Instagram feed was mostly selfies, showing off her cute—meaning expensive—clothing or pretty food pictures—prepared by someone else, of course—and pictures of her manicures.
Can't get much shallower than that.
Now that she had stepped away from her old life, she was beginning to see it in a whole new light, and she wasn't sure he liked the person she'd been.
She was by no means an influencer, but she had a significant number of followers. Followers who liked her jam post. Last night's post had hundreds of likes and dozens of comments ranging fromYum!andSo pretty!toWhere can I buy some?
Even as she scrolled through the comments, new ones came, many of them expressing interest in buying jam. She laughed when a comment saying,Seriously, where can I buy some?popped up.
She'd only helped Alice make the jam, but she'd never felt quite so popular. And happy. Being recognized for something other than her connections, brand-name accessories, and her business acumen felt good.
She waited until long after the shower shut off before getting out of bed and dressing. If she waited long enough, Rudy would leave for work, and she wouldn't have to cross paths with him. She'd embarrassed herself in front of him enough to last a lifetime.
When she finally made her way out to the kitchen, it was empty. While waiting for her toast to pop, she spotted Alice in the garden, pulling weeds. That woman was the hardest-working person Eden had ever met.
More likes and comments continued to show up as she nibbled on her jam-free toast. It had taken every ounce of her willpower not to slather the bread with the sweet berry concoction, but if she wanted to continue to fit into her clothes, she couldn't continue to indulge like she did yesterday.
Her gaze drifted to the dozens of jars of jam they'd made yesterday. She knew Alice intended to give some to her children for their families, and it wouldn't surprise her if she gave more away to neighbors and friends, but there were a lot of jars on the counter, and they'd be making more in another day or two when more strawberries ripened. Would Alice be interested in selling some of her jam to strangers from the Internet?
