Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I stow that thought for another day because right now I’m much too distracted by the peepshow. Moving on to his legs, they’re toned and cut like the rest of him. He takes the hem of the shorts that skim the top of his knees and hikes them up, exposing thigh muscles that would make an NFL running back green with envy. Then he bends at the waist to loosen his hamstrings. Almost instantly my skin feels tight, shrink wrapped, my ears red hot. When I start to sweat, I know it’s time to stop.
This is indecent behavior. Mine, that is. He’s just an innocent victim. Why am I standing in the dark, staring at this man like I’m at a strip club and I have a right to get hot and bothered? You know you have to take stock of your life when you find yourself acting like a pervert.
He straightens, ruining all my fun, and walks inside. Part of me is a little disappointed, but with the all-clear, it’s time for me to get back to real life.
I make a beeline for the farmhouse when music suddenly blasts from Aidan’s trailer. Nirvana, Smells Like Teen Spirit. My deep sympathies for any woman who gets involved with this clown. As gorgeous as he is—and empirically speaking, he’s close to perfection—he’s really not worth the trouble.
Behind me, the lights come on and the sound of a door opening stalls my flight.
“Hey,” a deep voice calls out.
I turn slowly and find Shane standing a few feet away, still dressed in his running gear, a hand towel hanging around his neck.
“Hi.”
It’s the first time we’ve spoken since the day he talked his way onto this property, so I’m not sure what to expect.
The sconces on the guesthouse cast enough light for us to get a good look at each other. Thanks to my prior lurking episode, I do a decent job of maintaining a neutral, if not completely unaffected, expression. There’s nowhere for me to hide my appearance, however.
The sweaty hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun ain’t going anywhere. Nor are the hands made dirty by hours caring for animals. Other than maybe in the pockets of my baggy jean shorts. I’m past pretending I’m fit for decent company at this hour anyway.
His forehead wrinkles in question. “What are you doing out here?”
“Night check on the animals.” I motion with my thumb at the barn. “I do it every night. I was headed back to the house when the entertainment started.”
We both glance at the trailer, the music still playing loudly. From his profile, I can see his jaw flex, the tension written on every hard line of his handsome face. Something is going on here that I need to get to the bottom of.
“He hasn’t shown up for his community service once since he arrived.”
Shane nods. “I know.” His voice is low and troubled. I was under the impression that Shane had been in and out, largely absent from what was going on, but it sounds like he’s been keeping tabs on his brother.
“Maybe you can talk to him?” I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it before. This shouldn’t be my problem. This is exactly why his brother is living in my house. Let him play big bad daddy. “Or I can call Jules.”
“I’ll talk to him.” He pauses, lips pursed as if he’s debating saying something else. “Can we keep his… behavior between us?” When I hesitate to answer, he continues, “I know he’s causing you trouble, but if this blows up, he’ll do jail time, and let’s just say he won’t do well in there.”
“We definitely agree on that.”
I want to ask a million questions. Like what the problem is with Aidan. Why he acts like a spoiled child tyrant. Why the two of them rarely talk. And why he picked this place to do his time if he had no intention of actually doing it. But I can’t because the man standing before me doesn’t invite questions. He’s a 20-foot high brick wall with a no trespassing sign on it.
His continuous, pointed stare makes me antsy and that’s how I know it’s time to get out of there. I may be too tired to care about my appearance, but I’m still female. Which means I still care about my appearance. And I’m fairly certain the aroma I’ve been marinating in all day is noticeable, too.
Walking backwards, I try to make an elegant exit. As much as I can wearing jean shorts and clunky rubber muck boots, anyway. “Can you maybe start with getting him to turn down the music? Some of us have to work early.”
He runs a hand through his hair and gifts me with another one of his curt nods. I want to inform him––just in case no one else has––that words are free and unlimited and there’s no need to hoard them like he does, but I suspect he doesn’t have a sense of humor.