Thunk.
Another piece of wood split cleanly in two.
Ava’s mouth had gone dry.
This was ridiculous. She’d seen shirtless men before; working at a tavern meant dealing with drunk fools who thought removing their shirts made them more attractive. But this... this was different.
This wasn’t some tavern fool trying to impress her.
This was a laird, chopping wood in her yard as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and her body was responding in ways that were completely inappropriate for someone who was about to become his employee.
Stop it.Stop starin’ at yer future employer like he’s a piece of meat. Have some dignity, woman.
She forced herself to turn away from the window, her cheeks burning.
Right. Breakfast. She’d make breakfast, and by the time it was ready, Noah would hopefully have put his shirt back on, and she could stop having entirely inappropriate thoughts about what it might feel like to?—
No.
Absolutely not. She was not going there.
Ava threw herself into cooking with perhaps more force than needed, slicing bread as if it had personally offended her and cracking eggs with such strength that she had to fish shells out of the bowl.
She was just putting the porridge on to heat when she heard the back door open. Footsteps approached the kitchen.
Please have yer shirt on. Please have yer shirt on.
She kept her eyes fixed determinedly on the pot she was stirring, not trusting herself to look.
“Ye didnae have to chop wood,” she said, proud of how steady her voice came out. “Though I appreciate it.”
“The pile was gettin’ low.” Noah’s voice was closer than she’d expected, and she risked a glance sideways.
He’s put his shirt back on, thank God.Though the linen clung to his still-damp skin in ways that were almost as distracting as?—
Focus, Ava.
“I didnae want me niece gettin’ cold,” Noah continued, moving to the basin to wash his hands.
Despite herself, Ava felt a smile tug at her lips. “Choppin’ wood at dawn. Must be terribly inconvenient for a laird.”
He turned to glare at her, water dripping from his hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’.” She waved her spoon innocently. “Just seems like a lot of effort for someone who could’ve sent a servant to do it. If ye had servants here, that is.”
“The wood needed choppin’.”
“Aye, and I’m sure ye were simply bored.” Ava turned back to her cooking, unable to keep the amusement from her voice. “Hadnothin’ better to do than make sure there was enough firewood to keep a wee cottage warm.”
“I was already awake.”
“Of course ye were.”
“What are ye implyin’, Miss Harris?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“I’m nae implyin’ anythin’, me Laird. Just observin’ that for someone who barks orders and scowls like it’s his job, ye’re pretty quick to do the work yerself when it comes to makin’ sure Esther’s comfortable.”
