Chapter 10
Meirna
Two years ago…
“You really should wear one of those orange vests. You’re starting to become a safety hazard.”
Mindlessly, I glance up at the male voice who just protruded through my irritation at the mess of red mulch that just slipped from the bag I was holding. I clash with light green eyes that possess the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Short, dark brown hair with matching stubble along the sharp edges of his jawline. Cheekbones carved by a plastic surgeon.
They have to be.
There is no way a man who looks this good, naturally formed like that.
He’s fake.
There’s no other explanation for it, and I won’t accept another one.
“There was a hole in the bag,” I offer as my excuse, which sounds even stupider now, admitting that I still picked it up and hoped like an idiot that it wouldn’t rip.
“So you’re a rebel,” he deadpans, slowly haunching down to get on my level. “I didn’t know we allowed those.”
My skin snakes with awareness of how close he is. Excitement and nerves blend in an obvious combination that serves no purpose here.
I’m here to plant trees, renovate the city of Stonehaven, and spruce up the drapey vibe here. Not meet attractive men and brazenly eye-fuck them because we can’t help ourselves.
“We don’t,” I force as casually as I can without stammering. “But I’m running this thing, so I’m as corrupt as the next.”
He lifts a brow. “Interesting. I didn’t know revolutionaries were five foot five with Britney Spears shirts on.”
My cheeks betray me with a raging blush that I know I can’t pose as overheating.
It’s hot, blistering so, but my cheeks are lava—bright, red, and indulging in the thought that this man noticed me.
And my Britney tee.
I fold my hands together. “We like to stay on the downlow, if you don’t mind.”
The corners of his mouth lift just a fraction before he shoves his hands underneath my broken bag of mulch and rises to his feet. “Where do you want it, boss?”
I don’t remember.
All my plans I had for the day just skipped out and left me. Now I just want to stare at him all day doing whatever it is he does.
Pick a plant, Meirna. You’re being weird.
“Pick the closest tree,” I mutter, gesturing for him to go have at it while I try to pull myself together.
I was not expecting a volunteer to look like him today, and…frankly, my brain isn’t strong enough to fully compute or operate around one.
I’m tired, had three sips of cold coffee—which is vile in my book—and I am fully confident I look like crap.
My curls are frizzy, sweat has been plastered to my skin for hours under the summer sun, and now Adonis wants to pick right now to show his presence.
It’s comical.
And rude.
I watch as he dumps the remainder of the bag around one of our newly planted trees, and I give myself something else to do.
If I go down as the woman who just stared at him all day, I’m going to throw myself into oncoming traffic.
“Hold on,” I hear him protest as I reach down to grab another mulch bag. “You’re too important to be buried under thirty-pound bags of wood chips.”
The one I was about to grab is suddenly swooped up underneath bulging muscles, and my body swoons.
It swoons for Christ’s sake.
“I’m perfectly capable of lifting a bag,” I argue lightly as he tosses it over one broad shoulder. “I was doing fine before you arrived.”
“Then, let me mention that you’re too pretty to be throwin’ mulch around, and I wanted an excuse.”
I never imagined that my face could get redder, but it has.
It did.
It’s doing it, as my newly-appointed, makeshift mulch guy strides off to dump another bag and immediately comes back for another.
“You’re making me look bad,” I lightly accuse, even though I’m unable to help the small smile that graces my lips.
“Not sure if that’s possible.” He tilts his head to something behind me.
“There’s a group of three guys over there looking at your ass, and honestly, I’m doing you a favor.
Wouldn’t want one of them to come over and use a bad pick-up line so you’d have to think of a way to turn them down, would you? ”
I smirk. “Who said I’d turn them down?”
“I would,” he says confidently with one small step forward. “Besides, what did you think my true intentions were over here? I was given the task of planting begonias…on my ass.”
An instantaneous laugh bursts through my lips as I try to stifle it by using my hand to cover it up.
Meanwhile, my mystery mulch guy smiles. “You’re welcome.”
I watch him go back to work as he moves fifteen more bags of mulch, sending me short little smoldering glances that have me beaming like a light bulb.
I could’ve gone and found something else to do, but…I really don’t want to fall out of orbit with the guy who’s making me feel pretty at a volunteer event I created, of all places. I’m not sure how he managed to find it or why he’s doing it, but I’m not going to ask.
Yet.
When my mystery mulch guy is finally all done, he strides back over to me, brushing the dirt off his palms and onto his dark jeans.
I thoughtfully have a water waiting for him because, you know, I’m sweet like that.
“Here you go,” I offer, holding out the ice-cold beverage to him.
“I’m good.”
I frown. “This is for safety reasons. I can’t afford a passed-out body and all the women nearby leaving their posts to come fawn over you. The landscaping will never get done.”
He pushes his bottom lip out with his tongue, as if thinking about it, but I see the ghost of the smirk he’s trying not to register on his face. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to share me?”
“Not if you’re going to lift the heavy stuff.”
Without another need or reason on why he should stay hydrated, he plucks the bottle from my grasp, twists the cap, and gulps half the thing down.
He tilts his head while doing it, giving me the perfect view of his thick neck and tanned skin.
Muscled.
Dangerous.
Alluring to all my senses.
“You’re turn,” he says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t have the boss passing out, so those three guys are running over here and tripping on themselves to fawn over you.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to share me?”
“Yes,” he drawls without hesitation, and all openness of what he’s thinking or has thought about since seeing me.
It’s mutual.
And I don’t know how to navigate or make it grow.
Taking the water to give myself something to do other than answering, I take a sip, then another, and mystery mulch man watches me the whole time as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.
“What’s a guy gotta do to take you out?” he remarks out of nowhere, giving me immediate pause because my brain doesn’t pick it up right away until it does. Then I start internally freaking out.
I want him to take me out.
But I’m so busy that I don’t want to give the impression that I’m blowing him off all the time. I blow my best friend, Nettie, off as it is with all the overtime and non-profit projects I’m trying to fund and get off the ground.
I’m interested, but I don’t think I can commit.
“They have to finish planting begonias,” I manage quickly to buy myself some time. “Then…I may be open for dinner.”
He bows his head and erases some of the space between us. “You look like a girl who loves desserts.”
“I do. Except dark chocolate.”
“It’s good for you.”
“Probably why I don’t like it.”
This time, he smiles with teeth and everything before he bows and begins retreating backward. “I’ll be back to determine that time and day. Don’t talk to anyone while I’m gone.”
I lift my shoulders as if I’ve been beating them off with a stick since I arrived. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” he stresses, allowing his green gaze to descend on my body. “I don’t share. And I’d definitely fight for it.”