13. Tanner
13
TANNER
T he chopper lands at the distillery, and I jump out quickly, the blades starting to slow, but the wind gusts still blow. I know she is home because I saw her out the window as we were coming in. The one woman I can’t seem to stop fucking thinking about. It looked like she was wearing a pink robe, and her long legs looked fucking amazing, almost as good as her perfectly painted toes in the image she just posted to her socials.
I’m not on social media much, but when she tagged the bar with an image of her and the girls, I had a look at her page. I am now more addicted to social media than I ever have been before. Seeing the work she is doing on the house in her before-and-after photos, it is impressive, especially in such a short amount of time.
It’s been almost a week since I saw her in the bar, and she looks even better than I remember. So does the house. She has painted the outside and the garden’s a little tidier already. She must have gotten help, because there is no way one person could have accomplished all that in a week. I need to find out who is helping her and get them to stop. The more work she does, the less likely she is to sell, and I want that property.
The chopper obviously startled her. She was running after the goat. I feel bad for not warning her. I know the chopper scares the animals, and since she arrived, I haven’t told her that choppers are in use around here at times.
“I need you to go over the stock. I have the new batch ready for tasting,” Lacy says as I walk through the distillery door. She follows behind me quickly, notepad in hand, no doubt a list a mile long for me to start ticking off since I have been away for most of the working week. I usually hit the ground running when I get home. There are always things to do, paperwork to sign, staff issues to deal with.
“I’ll be back in a minute. I just need to check on something,” I tell her, walking straight past her, through the distillery, and out the front door to my waiting truck.
“But—” She looks at me, mouth agape. She is clearly surprised because I normally don’t land and then leave again. But I won’t be long. I’ll just check if Victoria is okay with the animals and then come back and get straight into it.
“Five minutes!” I say, jumping into my truck and then driving down the road. In less than one, I am pulling up to my neighbor’s house and start walking around the back to where I saw her last.
“Victoria?” I call out but hear nothing. I just saw her out of the helicopter window and her truck is sitting in the drive, so I know she is here.
“Hello?” I shout as I turn the corner of the house, admiring the paint job. I only make it a few more steps before I stop short as I see her on the ground in the backyard. Her arms are tucked by her sides and she is rolling toward the house like a pencil or something. But it is the fact that she is wearing next to nothing, her long legs bare all the way up to what looks like black lace underwear, that has me swaying on my feet.
What the hell is she doing? I watch her, confused. Her eyes are closed, and she is talking to herself or the goat or something. Walking toward her, I stand, waiting for her approach, but she doesn’t notice me and she rolls right into my feet. Her eyes flick open, and she screams.
“Ahhhhh!” Her voice is high-pitched as her body freezes across my feet.
“You alright down there?” I ask her with a frown, though I’m a bit amused. She is disheveled, grass tangled in her hair. I am not sure why she’s only wearing a pink robe, considering it is the middle of the afternoon, but as it gapes a little at the chest, I swallow roughly. Her eyes are wide and my nostrils flare as I take a breath and immediately wish I hadn’t.
She smells like shit. Literally.
“I fell and hurt my ankle. Don’t you knock?” she says, looking at me accusingly but making no attempt to get up as she lies at my feet like a fucking offering that is becoming increasingly hard to deny. Her hair is splayed around her on the bright-green grass, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths, and I need to clear my throat to get my head back in the game.
“How did you fall?” I ask, looking around. There is nothing high around here for her to fall off. I can’t see any ladders.
“I was trying to get Garry away from my herbs—”
“Garry?” I ask, totally confused.
“Garry the goat?” I look at her like she is crazy. Why the hell is she calling a female goat Garry? And I can’t believe she has already hurt herself. She will kill herself out here if she isn’t careful, and while I want her property, I don’t need her death on my conscience.
“Yes, Garry and I still haven’t become firm friends, but I am hopeful,” she says on a breath, starting to calm down, but then I see her wince.
I spot the measuring tape and things on the back porch when I glance back at the house. There are boxes galore from various shops on the porch. Clearly, she has been ordering a lot online, the deliveries arriving today.
“You’ve started renovating, I see.”
“Yep, it needs some more work, but it has good bones.” She looks up at me suspiciously.
“So you’re definitely staying, then?” I need to hear her say it.
“That’s the plan.”
I can’t hold back my sigh.
“Can you walk?” I ask, shoving away my frustration. Looking down her body to her ankle, I see it is already purple and the size of a large potato, with blood also trickling. My jaw clenches, hating that she is hurt.
“Yes. I mean… I think. I don’t really know. I tripped ov er a stake that I didn’t see in the long grass. Marie must have been planning on building something.” Her words stumble over each other, and I immediately feel like shit. They must be the stakes that Griffin put into the ground months ago before we knew anything about her. I didn’t bother removing them, because at the time, we thought the property was as good as mine. Since then, I totally forgot. Probably because all I have been thinking about is her.
“Better get you inside,” I murmur before I lean over and put my arms underneath her knees and shoulders.
“Ahh, what are you doing!” She gasps, her hands gripping on to my neck.
“This alright?” I ask as I lift her, sealing her to my chest. She feels way too good in my arms. My voice seems to have lowered an octave on its own, and again, I clear my throat, trying to get a handle on myself. I am never flustered with women.
“Are you planning on taking me out back and putting me out of my misery or getting me medical attention?” She says it with a little humor, and my mouth quirks. Her hands wrap in my shirt, her head resting on my shoulder, making her lips too fucking close to mine. I grit my teeth.
“You need medical attention.” I confirm the latter as I start walking with her in my arms back to the house.
“I am sure I will be fine. I just need ice.”
“Do you have a first aid kit?” I ask, knowing if she doesn’t, then she needs one.
“I think I saw one in the kitchen. But you don’t have to carry me. I smell like shit!” It’s like she just realized with the way her head pops up from my shoulder, eyes wide.
“Believe me, I know,” I tell her as I open the back door to her place and take a few steps forward, planting her on the kitchen counter. She has made the place nice. It is a vast improvement already to what it was. It has life. Character. I carefully help her adjust her leg on the stool so she is comfortable, and she closes her eyes, taking a breath like she is exhausted. Looking at the backyard and then back at her, I have a feeling she has been working all day and all night to get this place to how it looks today.
“You still are not taking no for an answer, are you?” she asks with a quirked eyebrow, resigned to the fact that I am looking after her leg whether she likes it or not. I lean across her to grab a small twig from her hair, our bodies close. We are merely inches apart, and I can feel her hot breath trace across my cheek as she looks at me. I have the urge to lean in more, but I blink a few times and come back to earth, grabbing the twig and throwing it across to the sink.
“I rarely do. Only one person has said no to me so far this year, and I am looking at her,” I tell her honestly before I turn around and open the cupboard closest to the refrigerator, knowing that is where Marie always kept her first aid kit, grinning as I see it is still there.
As I walk back to her, a small smile on my face, I have a feeling this might be our ceasefire.