Page 16 of Property of the Woodsman

“I know you don’t want to get hurt, and this feels scary to you, doesn’t it? It feels scary because he always made you feel like you were too much. I won’t make you feel that way, little bunny.” I brush a strand of hair from her face as I talk.

“This isn’t about you making me feel anything at all,” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest. “This is about you coming to a wedding as my fake date to make my asshole ex and his twenty-something girlfriend jealous. Don’t make this more than it is. It’s not good for either of us.”

Usually, I’m the one holding everyone at arm’s length. I’m not used to being on this side of things.

“We still have to talk details for the wedding. I need to know your favorite color, whether you love coffee or tea, and where you want to be in five years. Details are what’s going to make this work.”

“My favorite color is green, I don’t like tea, and I don’t know anything beyond the present. Now if you’ll excuse—”

“Don’t you want to know mine?”

Her eyes roll to the side as she glances back at me. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” I grin, “I like black coffee, and I plan to be living on this property again someday. Speaking of this place, let’s go take a walk out into the back forty. It’s a great stroll this time of the year with all the leaves changing, and we can see if my old hunting blind is still standing.”

“What?”

“It’ll be fun.” I reach for her hand. “Come on. We can take a walk, come back, order some food, bake, and we’ll talk about your book. I think I’ve got some ideas that are going to blow your mind.”

She hides another smile. “You really think you’re the first boy to offer me a romance plotline?”

“No, but I know I’m the last.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t be, trust me. Men come from far and wide with ideas they think are genius for my stories.”

“But I’d bet none of them are holding your hand.”

There’s no response to this statement. She only glances down at our hands intertwined as she slides on her shoes and steps out into the chilly afternoon with me. Thankfully the rain settled while we finished the pie.

“I have no idea why I’m going along with this. I should be inside looking for more of your family’s secrets in the walls.”

“Well,” I squeeze her hand as we walk across the back field toward the treeline, “I’d bet you’re onto something. Dad kept all kinds of things in weird places. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were renovating a few years from now and found another box of money or a safe with old guns and ammo.”

This gets me a genuine smile. “Your dad sounds like an interesting guy.”

“He was interesting, alright. Paranoid to the max, but he could do just about anything, and if he didn’t know how, he taught himself.”

“My friend Mabel always says, ‘don’t marry the guy that has a guy, marry the guy that is the guy.’ It always stuck with me.” She glances at the grass, a cool breeze blowing across the field.

“Why do you think it stuck with you?”

Her gaze lifts from the ground and meets mine, our feet now planted in the grass as the trees rustle in the wind. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never had a guy like that. A guy who takes care of everything.”

I squeeze her hand tighter and bite back the emotion swelling up from my chest.

What the fuck is happening to me? Why do I feel so damn close to this woman I barely know? I know why I want her body, and I understand why someone would want her heart, but I’m not usually that guy.

I don’t catch a bunch of feelings, I don’t dwell on my emotions, and I’ve never in my life wanted to tell a woman I’d fix all her problems, but here the fuck I am, and I mean every damn word of it.

Chapter Six

Jen

It’s too cold, the ground is too muddy, and last night on the local news they were talking about a tick infestation that was taking over the county. At least five people got Lyme disease over the weekend, and I don’t want to be one of them.

I stare down at the ground as Atlas and I walk hand in hand into the woods, the collar on my sweater tucked up around my neck to block the wind that won’t quit. My hand, though, my hand is nice and toasty thanks to the giant man holding on like his life depends on it. I have to say, he’s a little too convincing at all this.

I don’t like it, and if I’m really honest, I’m kind of sort of considering changing my mind about the whole thing.