Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Like she wants me to fix her.
But I can’t do it. I won’t do it. Not again. The only thing I fix these days is busted stoves and refrigerators. Other than that, I’m done.
“So, anyway, I’m Emery,” she says.
“Yeah. I read that on your rental agreement.”
“Right. But I never got your name?”
I sigh. “It’s Eli.”
“Nice to meet you, Eli.”
“Yeah. You too.”
She hops up on the counter beside the stove and swings her legs back and forth. I glance up at her as she twirls a length of her auburn hair around her finger. It galls me to admit it, but she’s adorable. And when her light brown eyes lock onto mine, I feel a hard lurch inside of me, like somebody just took a sledgehammer to my chest.
I quickly turn away and focus on the stove. I’m moving automatically, like a robot, losing myself in the mechanics of what I’m doing while trying to keep myself from stealing a glance at the beautiful girl sitting three feet to my right. It’s not helping that I can smell the hint of her perfume—a light, floral fragrance that frankly, is driving me fucking bananas. Her perfume must be laced with pheromones because I’m stiffer than goddamn steel right now.
“So, are you married?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“You don’t say much, do you?”
“Depends,” I tell her.
“On what?”
“On whether I have something to say or not.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile, and it lights up the room. I have to force myself to keep from turning in her direction or risk losing myself in that smile.
“You like being the dark, brooding, and mysterious type, huh?”
“I’m not trying to be any type,” I tell her. “I’m just here to do my job.”
“You could try being a little friendlier.”
Clenching my jaw, I finally turn to her. “And why would I need to do that?”
She shrugs. “Because it’s good customer service.”
“I’m not in the service industry. I’m a landlord. You rent space from me,” I growl. “I don’t need to be anything but present and able to fix what breaks. And that’s all I’m going to do.”
I expected that would be the end of it, but she’s got a little smirk on her full, heart-shaped lips that sends a quiver through me. And she’s looking at me like she knows a secret. The girl has a glint of determination in her eyes that tells me she’s used to getting her way, and right now, she sees me as a new toy to play with and won’t be satisfied until I give in and dance to her beat.
Well, I’ve got news for her. I’m at least twice her age and ten times more stubborn. My years of experience with people like her are going to help me outlast whatever game she’s playing. The guys in my old unit used to say I could give stubborn lessons to a mule. She’s going to find out.
“I’m done,” I say, packing all my things into my toolbox.
“Stove works?”
I turn it on, and it immediately grows hot. “Looks like it.”
“That’s great. Thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
Picking up my toolbox, I head for the door.
“So, I guess I’ll see you around then,” she calls after me. “We have a conversation to finish.”
I cast her a dubious look over my shoulder as I walk out of her cabin and close the door behind me.
That girl is trouble.
The best thing I can do for myself is stay away from her.
Far away.
5
EMERY
Lying in bed later that night, I find myself staring at the ceiling, replaying that little scene with Eli in my mind’s eye and smiling. I’m normally not a forward girl. I’m not the sort who’s going to spot a man across the club, make a beeline for him, and strike up a conversation. That’s just not my style. Not that I have a style. But I’m usually a bit more reserved. Some would probably call me demure. I’m definitely not outgoing or extroverted. And yet, there’s something about Eli that made me feel… bold.
Daring even.
I laugh softly and shake my head. I’m still in shock that I was so forward and even flirtatious with the man. I’ve never done that before. There is just something about him that invites me to be that way. It’s probably because he’s “safe,” so to speak. Nothing with him will ever happen. I know that. Not only is he twice my age, but he’s far too gruff and grumpy. So, maybe, this is my way of learning to come out of my shell. Maybe I’m just practicing with him so that when I go back to the real world, free of my horrible ex and all that life entailed, I can learn to become who I want to be.
Still, I can’t deny that he’s a gorgeous man. He’s the living embodiment of “tall, dark, and handsome.” Images of him shirtless and chopping wood cycle through my mind and set my heart fluttering.