Or maybe he really just fucked my brains out.
Whatever the reason, my heart beats with an uneasy kind of anticipation as I pull on to the driveway.
At the back of the big house, I park at the stables just as Rory comes out of my house. Okay, so it’s not exactlymyhouse. More like my little sanctuary, though perhaps not any more. He waves as he sees me, coming to open the driver’s door.Fuck.I turn off the engine; my hands tighten on the steering wheel as he pulls open the door.
‘No bike today?’ he asks, holding out his hand. So, he doesn’tappearto be annoyed that I blew him off this weekend.
‘Evidently not.’ So why is it thatIsound so cross?
‘Well?’
‘What?’ I snap in response, while cursing him and his pale t-shirt and wondering if he knows how hot he looks.
‘Well... are you getting out of the car? Maybe planning on doing some work today?’ The corner of his mouth hooks into a half-assed smirk, igniting the simmering flicker of anger inside my chest. Especially as he turns his wrist, looking pointedly down at his watch.He’s got good hands. Strong wrists. Great forearms. A subtle tan and—brain, shut the hell up!
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Well, it is nearly lunch time.’
‘What? Now you’re the talking clock?’ I climb out of the car without taking his hand. ‘It’s not even ten—’ I grab his wrist with the intention of seeing the exact time, the next words propelled from my mouth in a seriously high pitch ‘—is this aPatek Phillipe?’
I know it is as I bring my face closer, peering down at it. I know because Marcus wore the same brand, though this one has a masculine leather strap rather than the gaudy gold one I’m more familiar with.I wonder what happened to it.Whatever, you could still buy a house in most places with the cost of one. And how in the heck is Rory wearing one?To garden?
‘It’s a knock off,’ he says, pulling back his hand. ‘I got it in Ibiza last year. I’m surprised it’s still working, to be honest.’
‘Oh.’ My hands fall to my sides, the flame of anger turning to relief.
‘So, work?’ he says fully smirking now as he slides both hands into the pockets of his jeans.
‘Yeah. I suppose.’ I fold my arms across my chest as I look away, something—and I’m certain it’s not just his watch—bothering me.
‘Come on, darlin’,’ he almost growls. ‘I know you can do enthused. I’ve seen it.’
And if his words aren’t suggestive enough, the look he gives me leaves me in no doubt as to what he’s referring. His eyes then move from my lips and linger over my breasts, my nipples stiffening, almost feeling the brush of his gaze. His lips twitch, his eyes purposely unmoving from my chest, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s causing. He’s pushing my buttons—yes, thoseandmy metaphoric ones—and he knows it. And this just burns my ass. He might be goodandhe might know it, but that doesn’t give him the right to... to make me feel so pissed!
Buddy, there’s a time and a place, and right now is neither of those things.
In other words, I bite. Badly.
‘Whatisyour deal? Because what I do is no concern of yours.’ That damned smile breaks free, and despite imagining pushing my hands into his hair and dragging his mouth to mine, my blood pressure is totally about to erupt, and not in the fun, sexual way. ‘For your information, I’m contracted to twenty hours a week and last week I spent over triple that amount here. I don’t have to answer to you, but if I did, I’d tell you I didn’t need to be here until this afternoon when the gym equipment arrives and that I don’t need to come back until Wednesday when I’m meeting with new builders, okay?’
‘Builders?’ he repeats, his eyebrows drawing in above those stormy blue eyes of his.
‘That’s right.’ I find I’ve planted a hand on my hip—a cocked hip—and quickly change my stance by folding my arms across my chest before I’ve even realised. ‘I see there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.’
‘I thought the site was mothballed or something.’
‘Maybe.’ My tone is so nasty I expect him to back off, maybe walk away, not stand staring at me... waiting for a response. A beat later it becomes clear I’m not going to win this standoff, so I turn back, opening the car door and pulling out my purse. ‘As I understand it, the site is at a standstill due to some kind of contractual dispute, but it seems ridiculous that in the meantime, at least some of the work can’t be carried.’ Purse in hand, I turn back to him, slamming the driver’s door shut with a bang. ‘I’d asked a friend who they’d recommend locally to complete one or two jobs.’
‘What jobs?’
‘Well...’ I push the bangs from my forehead. ‘There’s a restoration carpenter coming to look at the second floor staircase because it’s kind of dangerous as it stands. The other guy is some kind of shopfitter that I’ve asked to supply a price for finishing the reception and downstairs bar.’
‘Did anyone ask you to do this?’
‘No. I’m just investigating. I was just going to forward the information on.’ I inhale a deep breath, though I’m not exactly sure why. ‘It’s called initiative, if you didn’t know.’
He looks taken aback, though a second later his expression changes again. ‘Yeah,’ he almost purrs. ‘I know all about initiative.’
