He looked around at the unkempt backyard of the big house. It definitely needed a mow. It would be the first mowing of spring and they'd had enough late-fall growth that the yard was a mess.
"I don't think my dad and Jake expect us to get all of this done in one day. So, I say let's do whatever makes it look like we put forth our best effort."
"Mowing and weed whacking it is." Riley headed toward the stables again, for yet another set of tools and equipment. She rotated her arms in big windmill-like circles as she walked.
Daniel wanted to ask her what made her so upset that she needed such an aggressive outlet, but she'd be embarrassed if she knew he saw her crying on Saturday night. Despite all the conversation they engaged in while they worked and ate lunch, none of it was even remotely personal. Daniel preferred it that way, and he assumed Riley did too.
"I know you hate carrying the weed whacker around for hours, so I'll do that."
Weed whacking killed his back because it was six inches too short for his tall frame, but he'd deal with it to save Riley's arms.
She stepped in front of him and grabbed the handle of the weed whacker before he could. "I'm not some weak female. I can run a weed whacker."
"I never said you were weak. I just know you don't like?—"
"I don't need to be coddled. I'm as competent as anyone else around here." Her words were sharp and forceful.
Daniel wasn't sure what triggered this sudden change in her mood, but he raised his hands in surrender and stepped away. "Okay, you can weed whack."
He stood by as Riley checked the gas and the string, then when she walked toward the entrance, he picked up a pair of safety glasses. "You should probably wear?—"
"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job."
Daniel let out a low whistle. He sure would like to know who ticked Riley off, because he was getting whiplash.
It took onlya minute of weed whacking for the wind to whip the cut grass and weeds back into Riley's face, and she realized what Daniel had been about to say as she walked out on him. She should have known to grab safety glasses, but her pride wouldn't let her get them now. Especially after snapping at Daniel.
Five more minutes of running the cumbersome weed whacker, and her shoulders burned. It didn't help that every muscle from her wrists to her neck ached from punching the bag so aggressively the last two nights. Last night's nightmare wasn't as bad as her first night home, but she'd been unable to go back to sleep without working off her frustrations.
There was something cathartic about expressing the emotions raging inside her through physical exertion. But cleaning out stalls and constantly reaching overhead to prune the fruit trees had left her arms feeling like jelly.
Daniel was only trying to do her a favor by offering to weed whack because he knew she hated this chore. But all she heard was him calling her weak. She couldn't be viewed as weak and vulnerable. It would make people think they could take advantage of her again.
So she pressed on, even though her arms ached and the muscles in her shoulders burned.
She was half done with the backyard of the main house when the wind blew debris into her right eye. With a shriek, she shut off theweed whacker and pulled off her gloves. She turned her back to the wind and doubled over, hoping gravity would help pull out whatever it was that made it feel like needles stabbed her eye.
The mower shut off across the yard and Daniel yelled. "Are you okay, Ri?"
She didn't bother answering, because she was too busy trying to rid her eye of the irritation.
Rapid footsteps drew nearer, and from the corner of her good eye she saw Daniel running in her direction. Warning bells sounded in her head, growing louder with each step he took.
"What's going on?"
"I got something in my eye." A growl of frustration punctuated her words.
"I'm not surprised." He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her upright.
Her whole body tensed at his touch. She turned away from him, but he sidestepped, keeping his body squarely in front of her. "Let me see."
Even though she'd straightened to her full height, he loomed over her, tall and broad, his breathing labored. Her breath hitched, and a band tightened around her chest.
Her right leg bounced, tapping the heel of her boot against the ground, as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. Instinctively, she balled her hands into fists.
It’s Daniel. He won't hurt me.
He used to be her best friend. The one who carried her on his back for a whole mile when she sliced open her knee in the creek.
