He pulled me by the arm toward a small shed. “But I want to help. And I’ve got an idea.” He stopped in front of the shed, and all I could see behind it was a bunch of debris. Wooden pallets and old crates and barrels. “You seem like you need to get a few things off your chest.”
A tired huff escaped me. “I’m not in the mood to talk, Josh.”
He crossed his thick arms and raised an eyebrow.
Dammit, why did he have to be so damn handsome?
“I figured,” he said. “But are you in the mood to break shit?” He grinned.
The effervescent expression from this usually stoic man made mystomach flip.
I had no idea what he was talking about, but the gleam in his eye made my core clench.
“Come on.” He opened the shed and produced a box. “A present for you.”
Rather than take it, I stared at the large package withTimberlandprinted on the side.
“Open.”
I lifted the lid, finding a pair of pink work boots nestled inside. Fancy ones with steel toes.
“They’re pink.”
“It’s your favorite color.”
I peered up at him, frowning. How did he know that? I’d never told him, and while I had a lot of pink stuff, I wasn’t exactly walking around looking like Barbie.
“Turns out they make them in doll sizes for your tiny feet.”
“How did you know my size?” I pulled one out and inspected it.
“I texted Ellie and she told me.”
“She has your number for emergencies,” I scolded.
He put his arm around me, pulling me in for a half hug.
It was less than half of what I needed, but it helped a little.
“Lack of proper footwearisan emergency,” he corrected. “You know how much I care about safety.”
Timberlands. A wave of self-consciousness hit me. This was an expensive gift. Was this a charity thing?
“Just because no one has ever treated you like you matter doesn’t mean you don’t,” he went on, making me really think he had direct access to my thoughts. “You matter. To me and to a lot of other people. So put the damn boots on. You needproper footwear. Can’t be dancing around the farm in mismatched Crocs all the time.”
With a sigh, I sat on the ground and put them on. They were a bit stiff, but Josh said they needed to be broken in, and they were warm and supportive, so I didn’t argue.
“Now follow me. You’ll need these.” He handed me a pair of protective glasses.
Behind the shed, close to one of the maple tree stands, was a clearing. And it was filled with… junk? Old buckets, crates, wooden pallets and other scraps.
The items were evenly spread out, confusing me further.
“What is this?”
“A rage room.” He held out an arm, gesturing to the random collection of things. “I know you don’t like enclosed spaces, so it’s more of a rage yard, but you get the idea.” With a step forward, he handed me a new pair of pink work gloves.
I continued perusing the area. Was that an old printer? What was this?
