Chapter 3
My breathing falteredas hazel eyes stared back at me. I’d recognise Ethan anywhere, just by his eyes alone. His pictures flashed through my mind. I shoved them away and descended the stairs as the car door opened and Ethan stepped out. He was wearing shorts and a polo, the exposed skin well-tanned.
As I approached him, his eyes wandered to the yard and house. What was he noticing? The kids’ bikes, the small garden, the hammock on the porch? Was he trying to ignore my wild appearance—messy hair, flour on my t-shirt, bare feet? It was hard to tell what he thought. His face was impassive. At least I was wearing a bra.
“Hi. You must be Ethan. I’m Jasmine. I’m the head ranger here.” I held my hand out to him. “Nice to meet you.”
A half smile appeared as he took my hand and shook it. His was big and warm but as non-committal as his face—no firm squeeze, no lingering. The handshake finished as quickly as it started. Still, I couldn’t read him. My stomach squeezed. It was part of my job to read people, to recognise whether they were genuine. I met all kinds of people as a ranger. Some were merely out enjoying nature; others were there to exploit it.
I squared my shoulders, preparing myself. “Have head office explained the housing situation to you?”
He shook his head.
I took a steadying breath. “The house next door is yours.”
His eyes drifted to the house. The doors were wide open and old cabinetry was sitting on the grass. Wood and sawhorses covered the porch. Rubbish stuck out the top of the skip bin.
“Unfortunately, it’s undergoing renovations. Until they finish, you’ll need to share with us.”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Mmm, so he can show emotion.
I led him toward our house. “We have set up a room for you. I hope you’ll find it comfortable.” I took him there first. Jack and I had moved the queen bed, two side tables and a chest of drawers in from next door. I’d hoped that would be enough for him.
“This looks fine. Thanks.”
“It used to be my son’s, Bailey’s, room. He’s moved in with Rose. They’re adjusting to sharing a room, so some days it’s a little crazy.” I tried to make my voice light. I didn’t want him to think he was moving into a madhouse.
“Right. OK.”
Was he being dismissive? Or sarcastic, like he thought we were always crazy? I straightened my back. Why was I being so defensive? The poor man had just driven seven hours. He was probably tired. And then he was faced with having to share a house with three strangers.
I led him down the hall to the bathroom, conscious that his eyes were on me the whole way. “This bathroom will be yours. The kids and I will share the other bathroom.”
“Thanks.”
“The other two bedrooms are down that way,” I said, pointing down the hall. “And this is the living area. I didn’t know if you’d want to share meals or make your own. We can make space for you in the fridge and pantry. Let me know your preference once you’ve settled in.”
He nodded. He didn’t say much. He merely looked at me with those intense hazel eyes. Maybe ten words during our whole conversation, while all I’d done was ramble on. Did he think this was as awkward as I did?
I hoped it was shock on his part that made him so aloof. I didn’t want the kids to feel uneasy. I wanted them to be free to express themselves. They hadn’t been free with Max. His judgement had reigned supreme. Little by little, I’d seen their self-esteem erode. They had begun to overthink everything they said. I wouldn’t allow that to happen again.
I showed him the laundry and the small backyard. “There is a road that leads to the back of the house as well.” I pointed it out. “We use it if the beach road out the front is impassable for some reason.”
He ran his hand through his hair and looked around. There was a small crease between his eyebrows, indicating he was thinking about something. He nodded and gave me that half smile again. “Thank you.”
That half smile showed me that while he may have been fighting with other emotions, he was trying.
My defences had me jumping to conclusions. And that wasn’t fair on either of us. Hopefully, he would relax and this whole experience could at least be bearable. Especially since we’d be living together and working together.
Maybe he had a family back home and living with us would make him miss them more. Or maybe he was an introvert who liked his own space. He was here for six months, but he wouldn’t need to live with us that whole time if I could get all the tradesmen sorted.
What could I do to make this better for all of us?