Page 19 of Goode Tidings

She clears her throat. Shimmies her shoulders, shakes her head. Her hair bounces about her face, and she sweeps it away. "Yes," she says solemnly.

My eyes narrow. I don't trust her. Not with the way the corners of her lips twitch.

She extends her right arm, pinky finger offered. "Pinky promise from a distance. Because I'm sure you stink, and I prefer things that smell pleasant."

I do, in fact, reek. I am also annoyed. And embarrassed, because apparently that's a perma-feeling in front of this woman.

"You know," she continues, "if you weren't guarding your phone number like it's the code to a nuclear reactor, I could have called you and told you there was a furry friend outside the door to your"—she falters, a shred of guilt clouding her gaze—"shed. House. Hut. Office. Thing." She finishes that unbelievable sentence with a wince.

She's right, of course. And there really is no point in keeping my number to myself. I'd been reaching for just a shred of control yesterday, trying to keep this gorgeous invader from having unfettered access to me. She'd shown up, and the walls I'd built so carefully over the past two years were immediately threatened. But if my plan to present Justin with an accounting of all the improvements I've made to his cabin along the way works out the way I want it to, he'll let me stay in the Shed House Hut Office Thing. Eden and I will need to have each other's phone numbers. So, me seeking a little control and refusing to share my number accomplished nothing except that it made me look like an ass and smell like rotten eggs.

"Anyway," I say forcefully, trying to bypass a conversation about why I didn't want to give up my digits. "I'm going to need fresh clothes." That little shithead did not get a direct spray on me, but my clothes have absorbed the smell. "I only grabbed enough for an extra day, and now"—pinching my shirt between two fingers, I pull it away from my body—"I'm going to have to trash these."

I take a step toward the house, but Eden steps with me, blocking my way. "Absolutely not."

I glare down at all five feet four inches of her. She's changed out of that outfit she was doing yoga in this morning, and now she wears a light pink T-shirt and those soft-looking jeans again.

My teeth clench. "I can pick you up and set you aside." Not that I would. Besides, I have a better idea.

Her arms cross. "You are not stepping foot in that cabin."

"Fine," I grit out. "Have it your way."

The first two buttons of my shirt are already undone, and my fingers make quick work of the third. Eden's eyes widen.

Next up is the fourth button, revealing a deep v-shaped portion of my chest and the top of my torso. Eden's eyes narrow.

I skip the remaining buttons on my shirt, reaching for the waistband of my jeans. For shock value.

Eden scoffs, calling my bluff. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

"Eden," I growl her name in frustration, raking a palm over my face.

"Cool your jets," she sasses, pivoting and hopping up the steps to the back door. "You stink like forgotten broccoli. I don't want that in here, it'll mess with all the yummy smells in this place."

Yummy smells? What is she doing in there? "You better not be burning some smelly-ass candle." I scowl at her back. "Making the whole place smell like...like coconut or peonies."

She looks back at me, hand on the open door. "Say peonies again."

I cross my arms. "No."

She smirks. "Tell me what clothes to get for you."

"A pair of jeans from the second drawer from the top of my dresser. Any shirt from the closet is fine."

She takes my instruction and disappears into the cabin. I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh, then look around myself to see if anybody has witnessed my most recent mortification. I wouldn't be shocked if Marco were hiding behind a pine tree, watching it all unfold.

I don't see Marco, but I do spot something inside the cabin. I step right, leaning just a little to see deeper into the open window. Oliver lies on the couch, my copy of The Lord of the Rings open in his hands. I know it's mine because of all the neutral-colored tabs sticking out from the pages.

Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?

I'd been so surprised to hear Eden's voice last night as I sat on the dock, I hadn't thought about the sentence she spoke to me. Does Eden love my favorite book? Or does Oliver, and Eden knows it because of that?

The door bangs open, and I straighten. Eden sails toward me, halting when she gets five feet away. Her nose wrinkles. "For a moment I forgot you stink. Here." She balls up the clothes and throws them at my chest, shot put-style.

I catch them and hold them out from my body. I don't want the fresh fabric touching the ruined clothes I'm wearing.

"You're lucky it wasn't a direct hit," Eden says, hair blowing into her face. "The wind probably helped it disperse." She pulls a hair clip off the hem of her shirt as she talks, holding it between her lips as she gathers half her hair. "You'd be a pariah for weeks," she says, but it sounds funny because of the clip in her mouth.