CHAPTER EIGHT
JENNIFER
I'm late.
I'm never late, but I overslept because I spent half the night positively giddy as I replayed everything that happened.
The way Seth kissed me on the trail yesterday, with his blue eyes sparkling and full of tender emotion.
How he said, “You're not temporary.” And most important of all, how he treats me. Not like I’m just some dumb cleaning girl but as someone who he sees as an equal.
And then my giddiness turned to worry and self-doubt.
What in the world was I thinking? He's a billionaire tech genius, and I cleaned houses for a living. Sure, he’d been so sweet, said all the right things, and was even taking things slow instead of rushing right into sleeping together.
But maybe he was just bored, and all this was just me keeping him company?
That despite what he said, once he was healthy again and back to his real life full of smart people and sophisticated women, he’d soon forget all about me.
It was those last miserable thoughts that continued to circle in my head all morning, even as I pull up to the cabin at eight twenty.
My stomach churns as I grab my trusty caddy and hurry to the door.
A part of me is hoping that maybe he hasn’t noticed that I’m late.
Maybe he slept in too, he has been doing better with not waking up at the buttcrack of dawn. Or he could be on a call, or-
The door swings open before I can knock.
Seth stands there, and he looks... I don’t know how to interpret that look. Not worried and not scared… just off. Very off. A muscle ticks in the tight bunch of his jaw as his light blue eyes rake over me from head to toe, his lips pinching into a firm straight line as he does.
“You're late.” His voice is cold, controlled.
I force a tiny grin. “I'm sorry. I overslept and...”
“Where were you?” He steps back to let me in, but there's tension radiating off him. “Why didn't you call?”
I blink, confusion sweeping over me. “I... I didn't know I needed to?”
He stares at me as if I've said something incomprehensible. “After yesterday, you didn't think I'd want to know you were okay? That I'd be waiting for you?”
Oh. Oh my. My chest tightens. “I didn't think...”
“Clearly.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I can see how stiff he’s holding his shoulders and the way his other hand is clenched into a fist at his side. “What did you think, Jennifer?”
I set my supplies down carefully, not meeting his eyes. “Should I get started on breakfast or do you still want to go for a walk?”
“Answer the question.”
Guilt pools in my stomach, but I haven’t done anything wrong. People are late all the time. “Seth...”
“Did yesterday scare you?” His voice drops lower, and suddenly he's closer, crowding into my space with his heat and his amazing scent. “Because it doesn’t scare me. I’m a man who knows what he wants and goes after it.”
My throat feels tight. I force myself to look up at him, at those intense blue eyes that see too much. “Yesterday was...”
“Yesterday was what?” He cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, and the gentleness of it after his worry makes my eyes sting. “Tell me.”
“I'm not the kind of girl guys like you keep around.” The words tumble out in a rush. “I clean houses, Seth. I didn't even finish college. You're brilliant and successful and you could have anyone, and I'm just...”
“Guys like me?” His voice is sharp now, almost furious. “You think I make a habit of this? Of falling for women I don't care about?”
My heart practically takes flight at that, but yet worry squashes it down. “I don't know! I don't know anything except that you're way out of my league and in a few weeks you'll be gone and...”
He kisses me. Hard and possessive, swallowing whatever else I was going to say. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
“I don't have patience for drama,” he says quietly, his forehead resting against mine.
“I never have. That's why I've been alone.
Most people want games, and I can't stand them. But you...” His thumb traces my lower lip.
“You're genuine, Jennifer. You’re real. No ulterior motives and no manipulation. You are just you.”
I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
He must see the doubt in my eyes because he steps back, and something shifts in his expression. Becomes calculating in a way that should probably scare me but doesn't.
“Okay.” He nods once, decisively. “You don't believe me yet. That's fine. You will.”
“Seth...”
He holds up a hand. “Let’s have breakfast before we go for our walk today.”
“Okay,” I whisper and slip past him to head into the kitchen.
Once there I start pulling out ingredients for omelets, trying to focus on the familiar task instead of the way he's watching me.
Because he is watching me. I can feel his eyes on me as he settles onto a stool at the island, seemingly content for me to do the cooking today instead of it being a shared activity.
“What’s your favorite book?” he asks completely out of the blue.
“I don't really have time to read much anymore.” I pour the eggs into the pan, grateful for something to do with my hands. “Though I do occasionally listen to audiobooks.”
“What do you listen to?”
I squirm and mutter under my breath, “Romance.”
He grins. “Why, Jennifer, you naughty girl.”
Heat flares in me at his teasing tone.
“What about you?”
“I was more of a science fiction kid myself. Asimov and Clarke.”
Of course he was. I sneak a glance at him and find him smiling slightly, and it transforms his face. For a moment I can see the young boy he once was, reading and dreaming about the future. I wonder if he ever saw himself here or if his future looked different from the one he ended up with.
I know once upon a time I thought my life would be vastly different. Back when my father was still alive and my mother had those big Sunday dinners that she loved cooking for. Then Dad died, and things changed. Maybe I didn’t change, but my future stopped looking so bright.
Forcing those grim memories away, I try to keep the conversation flowing and off serious subjects, like how in the world a man like Seth claims he could be falling for me.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue. Like the ocean.”
Nodding, I flip the omelets. “Favorite food?”
“Your cooking.” He says it so simply, so genuinely, that my cheeks flush. “Before this? I don't know. I ate whatever was convenient. Takeout mostly. The occasional protein bar at my desk.”
My nose crinkles up. I hate those overpriced bars. So tiny, and they always taste fake and leave me starving. “That's terrible for you.”
Seth shrugs. “I know. My cardiologist gave me a lecture about it. Said my diet was contributing to the inflammation around my heart.” He says it casually, but I catch the way his hand drifts to his chest. “These past two weeks, eating real food, the food we’ve made... I can feel the difference.”
I plate the omelets, setting one in front of him along with fresh fruit and whole-grain toast. “What kind of difference?”
“More energy. Less brain fog. My digestion is better.” He takes a bite and makes a low moan of appreciation that goes right to my core, which clenches.
“And my resting heart rate has dropped eight beats per minute,” he continues, unaware of how much I want him.
Then his words filter through my lust, and I blink in surprise. “Really?”
“Really. My watch tracks it.” He shows me his phone and the health app with all its data. “See? On day one, average resting heart rate was seventy-eight. Yesterday it was seventy.”
I study graphs showing the steady downward trend of all his numbers. Blood pressure, resting heart rate, and even his stress levels measured by something called heart rate variability.
“Seth, this is amazing,” I gush with a smile. “You're actually getting better.”
“We're getting me better.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “I couldn't do this without you, Jennifer. The walks, the food, the way you physically stop me from checking email before nine...” He grins. “You're as much a part of this as the medication.”
My cheeks burn at his compliments. “I'm just cooking and walking with you.”
“You always do that.” He sets his fork down as he studies me. “Diminish yourself. Why?”
I shrug. “I'm just being realistic.”
“No, you're not. You're being self-deprecating. There's a difference.” He leans forward. “You know what I see when I look at you?”
Not trusting my voice, I shake my head.
“I see someone who works hard and still makes time to be kind. Someone who notices when people are struggling and tries to help, even when they snap at her. Someone who literally saved my life by forcing me to take it seriously.” His eyes hold mine. “I see someone worth knowing. Worth keeping.”
My throat feels tight. “Seth...”
“I'm going to prove it to you,” he says quietly. “However long it takes.”
And looking into those intense blue eyes, I almost believe him.