14. Victoria
14
VICTORIA
M ortification doesn’t really come close to what I am feeling at the moment. Completely immobile, lost most of my independence since I can’t walk or even limp and currently smell like a disgusting sewer with goat shit all over me. Not to mention, I am still in my robe, so I am completely self-conscious that I am almost nude. And to top it off, the person coming to my rescue is the one man who is trying to take my land.
“I have ruined your shirt,” I murmur as I look at him. He is dressed differently today in suit pants and a crisp white shirt—well, except for the mud that now coats it—like he has just come from a business meeting.
“It’s just a shirt.” His eyes stay on the first aid kit as he digs around for whatever he is looking for.
“It’s a nice shirt.” I like the way it fits over his broad shoulders.
“It’s still just a shirt,” he confirms, his eyes meeting mine before running down my body quickly, then going back to the first aid kit. He is wearing a different Rolex than the last time I saw him. This one is silver and glistens in the light every time he moves his wrist.
I catch my reflection in the kitchen window and almost die on the spot. I look like I was dragged through the forest backward. My hair is everywhere, twigs and grass sticking out from my strands. As suspected, I have dirt all over my cheeks, and my nose is swollen and a little red. I belong in a horror movie.
“You look fine,” he mumbles next to me, my hands stopping midair as they brush through my hair.
“I look like I have been deserted in a forest for a century!” I didn’t think he was that old, but can he not see me properly?
He looks over at me, those eyes drifting down my body once more, and my traitorous heart starts to thud at his inspection.
“You look good to me.”
I almost forget to breathe. Is he complimenting me? As I stare at his side profile, I notice his jaw pop.
“I will pay for your dry cleaning,” I tell him, wondering if there is a dry cleaner in Whispers or if I have to take it to a nearby town.
“No need.” He’s now a man of few words, it seems. The air feels a little thick between us with it being so quiet in my kitchen. This is the first time we have been together like this, in a small space for a longer period of time.
He concentrates on grabbing the bandages and antiseptic, and I observe the small creases in his face, showing history, dependability. The dark stubble on his jaw has a scattering of gray, making him look both distinguished and rugged. What is it like to kiss a man with stubble? Josh was always clean-shaven, and past boyfriends the same.
I pull my head away from him and look back out the window. I need to stop these thoughts. He is my neighbor. He is after my land, and I can’t let my guard down. Even if his hard-set face seems to soften for me. I did that with Josh and look what happened. He completely swiped my legs out from under me. He made me feel stupid and unwanted. There is no way I want to ever feel like that again.
“What was with the chopper anyway?” I ask, curious since this debacle all stemmed from that.
“I just got back from a week in the city. We have private guests that come out to the distillery, and I have some booked for lunch this weekend. So, I leave the chopper at the distillery while they are there in case it is needed for a quick getaway or tour of the region. I should have told you about it earlier.” His eyes flick to me. Is that an apology from the grumpiest man I have ever met?
“So Whispers really is a playground for the wealthy, then?”
“I’ll never tell,” he teases, and a small smile comes to my face at his attempt at humor. “So why are you barefoot and only wearing a robe out in the yard?” he asks, and I swallow, my mortification coming back to me full force. At least we are not biting each other's heads off, although I am still wary of him.
“I just showered and was running out quickly to grab some eggs. Obviously, it wasn’t such a good idea. ”
“The robe or the eggs?” He lifts my ankle to get a better look at it.
“The robe,” I confirm, wincing as he dabs it with a wet cotton ball.
“The robe looks good. In need of a wash, but it looks good.” He swallows audibly, and his Adam’s apple bobs. I forget to breathe.
We remain silent for a moment as he cleans my ankle, and I clear my throat. “Apparently, I loved gardening here with Marie when I was younger, so maybe that is why I enjoy running around barefoot so much,” I say with a small smile, trying to inject a little humor before I completely suffocate around this man. His brow furrows as he looks at me.
“She never mentioned anything about you.”
I am not sure if it is meant to be accusing or not, but I let it slide.
“I don’t remember her, and my mom fell out of touch with her over a decade ago, but we visited, and her and my mom wrote to each other.” I want him to know that there is a connection for me here. He can’t just swoop in and take what isn’t his.
“The property has good soil due to the natural springs a few hundred yards away on your property, so you should be able to grow anything,” he says, and I whip my head around to look at him.
“Natural springs?” I ask, confused. I didn’t see any of that mentioned in the plan or the paperwork I signed.
“Just over the backyard and down the hill. They are yours. On your property. I don’t think they are listed on the plans, but the kids from town, from time to time, like to sneak in and take a dip. Otherwise, it is left alone.”
“Is that why you want the place?” I ask, broaching the sore subject.
“One of,” he confirms simply, and I leave it at that.
“I plan on going exploring some more once I get the house in a bit more order. Although now my plans might be delayed.” I wince again as I attempt to move my leg slightly. His eyes shoot to me, deep concern etched in his brow before he realizes I am okay.
“What else have you got planned?” He seems genuinely interested as he opens a Band-Aid.
“I have new blinds getting installed on Monday. I also have someone coming to help replace the shower screen and bathroom vanity later in the week.” He looks at me surprised but doesn’t say anything. “I work fast when I am passionate about something.” I shrug.
“There, as good as new. Maybe don’t go walking around out there barefoot anymore. You’re on a farm, so you need to wear boots; it’s common sense.”
I am not sure whether to thank him for his caring nature or be annoyed at him for telling me what to do.
“Are you trying to tell me what to do on my own property? Or are you saying I have no common sense?” I ask as I try to wiggle off the kitchen counter, feeling at a disadvantage.
He sighs. “You need proper boots is all I’m saying.” His head shakes, and my teeth grind. “And a shower.”
“You need to stop telling me what to do,” I say sharply. “I am perfectly fine.” My argument would hold more weight if I wasn’t still struggling to get off this stupid kitchen counter without exposing my black lace underwear to him.
“Let’s go,” he says as his hands wrap around my waist, and he lifts me completely off the counter like I weigh nothing.
“Ahh, where are we going?” I ask through a squeal, looking at him like he is crazy.
“Think you can get to the shower by yourself? Be my guest.” Setting me on my feet gently, he makes an exaggerated sway of his arms, encouraging me to go and sort myself out while he stands firm, just looking at me.
“You are infuriating,” I mumble as I hobble a little, trying to prove to him that I can walk just fine on my own but failing.
“I’m infuriating? You’re a pain in my ass,” he says honestly from beside me, sounding much too casual about it while looking ready to catch me when I fall.
“Pain in your ass? You’re a pain in my ass.” I make it to the base of the stairs, then look up, not knowing how I am going to do this on my own.
“I’ll get you up there, don’t you worry.” Stepping forward, he swoops me back up into his arms. I quietly seethe in his warm embrace, scrunching my nose, acutely aware that we both now smell like a sewer.
“You are such an asshole,” I murmur as I grip on to his shirt, his skin hot underneath.
“I’m helping you, aren’t I,” he grits out.
“It is because of you I am in this position,” I say, exasperated at the entire situation. I hate feeling like a burden, as now as my devastatingly good-looking neighbor walks me up my stairs to the bathroom, I feel exactly that. A burden. “If it wasn’t for your stupid helicopter. Who the hell has their own helicopter anyway?” I continue to push him as he places me at the dresser in my room so I can grab some fresh clothes, and I yank the drawer open with purpose.
“I do. I also have my own distillery, my own real estate portfolio, my own city office, my own jet, a penthouse in Manhattan, and a son.” His voice rises, even though he’s apparently keen to share his entire life with me. Slamming the drawer shut, I open the next one with even more force.
“Why are you so angry with me? This is all your fault!” I shout, throwing some sweats on the bed, along with a shirt, before I look up at him. He is breathing quickly, just as riled up as I am, and neither of us is backing down. As angry as I am at him, he is still the most handsome man I have ever met, and his eyes sparkle back at me, making my heart pound harder.
“You got injured. You were outside in a robe and bare feet, rolling in the backyard. Who knows what would have happened if I didn’t turn up!” He steps closer, bringing us almost toe to toe.
“That doesn’t matter. If it wasn’t for your stupid helicopter, none of this would have happened!” I fist my hands tight as his arms cross over his chest. We are going around in circles; it’s ridiculous.
“You shouldn’t be here on your own. A farm is too much…” Shaking his head, he speaks more calmly this time, and I look at him like I want to gut him. Is he implying I can’t handle it?
“I know you want my land. But listen to me, Tanner, and listen good. I. Am. Not. Selling.” I seethe as I point my finger at his very hard chest, and he frowns. Grabbing my finger, he curves his hand around mine, holding it to his beating chest.
“Let’s get to the shower,” is all he says before his familiar strong hands scoop me up, and I loop my arm around his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle and briefly wondering what he looks like underneath his clothes. I huff, not liking relying on him for this as he walks me to the bathroom, then sets me on my feet. The act genuinely takes me by surprise, with the amount of care and attention I am getting.
“Next time, you should wear boots and not be so clumsy,” he says under his breath, and my hackles rise immediately.
“I tripped over something in the backyard,” I push back at him as I flick my dirty hair out of my face. God, what a nightmare .
“It was a surveyor stick.”
My brow crumbles as I look at him.
“How did you…” Realization dawns, and I scowl at him as my fingers grip on to the bathroom door. “You put it there, didn’t you?” I feel my face redden as the pent-up anger I have been feeling toward this man rises within me.
“I did.” He nods, not even lying about it.
“Unbelievable!” I say, slapping my hand on the doorframe, his concern for me now making sense. He wasn’t doing it out of kindness, but rather guilt. “What? How?” Is this a deliberate ploy of his to get my property?
“Over a month ago. Before I knew about you, I planned out what I wanted to do with the land. I forgot to remove them when you turned up,” he explains, his expression stern. At least he is being honest.
“I should sue you. I should have you charged with trespassing!” I will never do it, but I’m sulking just the same.
“As I said… that was over a month ago. I forgot about them. They were not placed to harm you on purpose.” He really has the nerve to look grumpier than me right now.
“Well, you can leave. You did your good deed. I am in the bathroom, I am fine,” I say, steeling my spine. I look a hot mess and I need to get cleaned up.
“You are not fine. You can barely walk, you smell like shit, you have boxes outside, and the animals need locking up. Or did you forget the amount of work required to run a farm already?”
My shoulders pull up around my ears, but I don’t say anything because he is right. Instead, I swallow my pride and take a big breath.
Tanner steps back from me and leans against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest again, watching me like a hawk as I slowly close the bathroom door on him. I take a big breath and bite my tongue to push past any pain. I am so angry. This is all his fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him.