23. Rosy #2
I exhale heavily. “Yes,” I whisper, unsure if I’m trying to encourage him to place his lips on me or agreeing to being flustered.
“Good.” The word skates down my spine, and I shiver at the phantom touch. But to my disappointment, Max takes a step back, then grabs the full wheelbarrow and pushes it out of the stable.
What was that?
My body is still stuck immobile, staring at where he just disappeared. Exhaling loudly, I try to shake off the current of need running through me and get myself together.
“It’s just a bit of harmless flirting. He doesn’t mean anything by it,” I grumble, then shuffle to the next stable to pick up the empty bucket in there.
I take it back.
Having Max help me isn’t helpful. At all. In fact, it should be illegal. It’s pure torture. I’ve no idea what’s got into him, but somehow, he’s ramped up the flirting and it has me perspiring. I didn’t even imagine he could get any flirtier, but he has. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.
I’m dating Nate.
Not Max.
Nate.
Glancing up again, I watch the muscles in his back contract under his T-shirt as he loads up the shovel and flings the contents into the barrow beside us. It’s embarrassing how slow I’m being at this, but he’s so distracting. All those well-defined muscles… I want him to smother me with them.
“I can feel you ogling me, you know,” he quips suddenly, startling me from my thoughts.
I rip my gaze from his torso, and my cheeks burn. He’s looking over his shoulder at me, laughter creasing his face.
“What? I was not. I was just watching to make sure you’re doing it properly,” I grumble, feeling itchy from being caught doing something I shouldn’t. Shoving the fork back into the ground, I scoop up another pile—badly—and throw it into the barrow. My offerings are meagre compared to his.
“You’re checking to make sure I can shovel up horse shit and put it into a barrow?” He sounds incredulous.
I sputter because he’s right. I’m being ridiculous, and we both know it. Still, I’m unable to admit what I was really doing.
“Yes. And you’re doing great, so we can both move on and keep working,” I huff as I internally roll my eyes at myself.
His snigger is loud, but I refuse to acknowledge it as I move on to another pile.
“You’re cute when flustered.”
“Yes, well, you’re not when you’re frustrating.” I pout, feeling the heat from my cheeks travel down my neck.
His lips roll in, and his eyes twinkle, but he turns back and scoops another forkful of manure.
We finish the rest of the field with me silent and Max humming away to different songs I can’t quite figure out the names of. But it’s nice, not quite a silence that I feel the need to fill, but similar to having relaxing music playing in the background.
As we walk back up the field together, Max pushing the full barrow, he breaks the silence between us. “If you could have one whole day with no one else on the planet and the opportunity to do whatever you want, what would you do?
I frown in thought. “Are we talking about humans or all life forms?”
“Humans.”
“Okay, and am I capable of instant teleportation, or do I have to take into consideration getting from point A to B?” I enquire, my brain jumping through all the different options and ideas.
“Um. Instant?”
Why is he unsure? How can he expect me to make a decision without all the facts? It’s such an open-ended question that I need to know what the limits are to be able to decide. Only one day is a lot of pressure to make a decision on.
“Well, if there are no humans, that removes the option of being able to eat at restaurants, as there wouldn't be anyone to cook the food…” I think out loud, mentally striking out some of the options.
“Will I starve? Do I need to eat for the day? What about taking care of business? Will the animals be okay not having any humans to feed them for twenty-four hours?” I stop, suddenly startled by the last thought and glance towards Max, but he’s not beside me anymore.
Turning back, I see him a couple of steps behind, the barrow no longer in his hands as he has one cupped over his mouth, smothering what looks like a… laugh.
Is he laughing at me?
A scowl scrawls across my face, and I place my hands on my hips incredulously. The nerve of him.
“I’m sorry, cute stuff.” He chuckles. “Your mind is adorable. It’s so full of weird things. Good weird things,” he reassures, his hands reaching out placatingly when my brows rise sharply.
I fold my arms across my chest, unable to completely tamp down the need to be defensive. I’m not used to being so carefree with my thoughts; it tends to make people look at me differently.
Oddly.
“You should try being inside it,” I whisper, suddenly finding my feet fascinating as I avoid his eyes. “It’s not so fun then.”
Warm hands cup my shoulders, and he dips down, leaning into my space so he can meet my gaze. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Rosy. I like your mind and your thoughts. I want to hear all of them, always. Mine’s full of stupid shit. I like yours better.”
The sincerity in his face and words has a sheen of moisture coating the backs of my eyes, and a lump forms in my throat. “Thank you. I like yours too,” I croak, all thick with emotion.
Max swallows roughly, and the tension around us spirals with awareness. He’s so close to my face that if I sway forward, our lips could touch. At the thought, my mouth parts, and his gaze immediately zeros in on it.
Please kiss me.
Pulling back slightly, he offers a lopsided smile and places a lingering kiss on my forehead.
Did I say it out loud and not in my head? Disappointment pours through me, clinging tightly until guilt slaps me hard.
You’re with Nate. Why do I keep forgetting that?
“Come on, lemon drop. We have shit to shovel and hungry mouths to feed.”
My eyes roll at his poor attempt at boosting morale, but I find myself following quickly after him.