Chapter 6
There’s a strange man downstairs undressing in my living room.
Everyone has technically gone to bed, so it seems likely varying stages of undress are occurring downstairs. Which means it’s not ideal timing to go get a drink of water, but my throat has decided to become the Sahara Desert just to mess with me.
Did I lose the humidifier in the divorce? Of course I did.
I’m aware the day has been a lot for my unexpected houseguests, and after introducing them to the cattle, Guy threw himself into helping with chores like a man desperate to prove his worth. Considering I’ve been managing on my own for the last year, having an extra set of hands was almost as surreal as my updated living situation. Helping Emma get her room made up with her toys and their little Christmas tree was fun, but we literally bumped into each other as we tried to navigate around the kitchen making dinner together.
I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry from the sheer awkwardness. I think maybe this was a really big mistake. Not that I’d take it back, not in an instant, if this helps Emma. But the rest of it is so uncomfortable. Barley doesn’t have my problem, because he already made himself at home, curled up next to Emma’s bed so she could pet him while Guy read her a bedtime Christmas story.
We’re playing house, for all intents and purposes. I’m no better than another motel for them, even if I like to think the property is prettier. And now Guy Maple is married to me and probably in his underwear on my couch. This is…not ideal. I’m not cool and collected. This whole situation has definitely damaged my calm.
I don’t want to bother him, but I’m one of those people who gets thirsty overnight, and it feels ridiculous to drink water out of my cupped palm in the bathroom just to avoid going downstairs. This is my house. Just because there’s a man downstairs on the couch doesn’t mean it stopped being my house. And if he’s in his underwear, then I will just deal with it, because I’m an adult, and adults wear underwear.
Usually.
My mind starts to stray as I slip down the stairs, wondering if maybe I’ve got it all wrong and maybe he doesn’t wear underwear and maybe there’s a naked man on my couch. I keep one eye closed just in case, but nope. There’s no one on the couch, because Guy’s in the kitchen, in a faded pair of red flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt, on the floor doing push-ups.
One-armed push-ups. Like, the kind people do in movies and TV shows, not the kind that happens in my perfectly innocent kitchen. I’ve never even seen one of those in real life, and there he goes, driving my poor eyes to distraction as he does ten on one arm, then switches to the other. He’s come by those muscles honestly, it appears. And boy, does he have a lot of them. They all seem to be deciding to flex at the same time.
Sweat beads on his forehead despite the evening chill, and I’m pretty sure it’s dripping onto my kitchen floor. For a moment, I stand there, finding myself oddly jealous of my floorboards.
With a grunt of exertion, Guy finishes the last push-up and then rolls to his feet before turning and seeing me. We have a lovely, shared moment of us both standing there, our eyes resembling deer caught in headlights. Only he’s caught being absurdly sexy and I’m caught watching him.
“Umm, hey,” I say, raising my fingers in a painfully awkward mini wave. Yes, Sienna. That will cover being a voyeur. Well done.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Guy looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure how much sound would carry upstairs. I was trying to be quiet.”
“You were,” I reply as I move into the kitchen. “I just wanted to get a drink.”
The sink is too close to where he’s standing, so I head around to the fridge instead. I try to act like it’s no big deal to pour some milk into my favorite mug while wearing pajamas, when all that is happening on the other side of the island.
“I usually try to get in a quick workout before I sleep.” Guy gives me a shy smile, running a hand through his short dark hair, oblivious to how the action makes his arm muscles flex one more time.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it, Sienna.
“So… I guess I don’t have to ask if you even lift, bro?”
He flashes me the kind of grin I should not be seeing at this time of night in my kitchen, when no one is around to stuff my libido back in my pocket but me.
“I used to,” Guy admits. “But the more we traveled, the easier it was to just switch to body-weight stuff.”
“Ah.”
The wise ah , as if I know what body-weight stuff is. I can deduce…there was a lot of body-weight stuff just happening on my floor a few minutes ago.
“If this is a bad place, I can go outside,” Guy offers.
I shake my head and give him a smile, because the uncomfortable look on his face is back, and I like a relaxed Guy a whole lot better. “It’d make a great Christmas card, but I doubt you’d enjoy push-ups in the snow.”
Oh no, did I say that out loud? So this is what it feels like when your entire body cringes. The man actually blushes, but his eyes sparkle, and he looks amused instead of horrified at my joke. I clear my throat.
“Do you lift?”
I wish I could tell him yes, because I see him trying to find some common ground. We don’t know what to say to each other when Emma isn’t in the room, and that’s making this even harder. At least he doesn’t add the “bro.”
Okay, so we’ll talk…lifting. “Outside bales of hay and big mule hooves? Not really. I don’t think I’ve tried to do push-ups since high school. I ran cross-country though.”
“You don’t seem like the running type,” Guy says, his eyes crinkling as he gazes down at me.
“I wasn’t fast,” I start to say, then realize what he means. He’s giving me a compliment. “Oh. Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing. We’re a stubborn lot. We’d rather dig our heels in, but technically, we can jog if needed.”
He looks sweaty, so I pour him a glass of water and hand it to him. Guy’s fingers are large, and it’s a tall, narrow glass. His fingers brush mine as he takes it with a murmured thanks. I try really hard not to let it affect me, but in the last forty-eight hours, his touch has been the closest to any actual human connection I’ve had since Micah and I separated.
Suddenly wishing I could take his hand and squeeze it, I retreat to the sink.
“Exercise helps me handle what’s going on with Emma,” Guy admits. “No matter what else is happening, I can control my own body and my own mind. I can stay healthy and strong for her.”
“What do you do for you ?” I don’t know why I ask, but the words just pop out.
Blue eyes linger on me for a moment, then he glances down at the glass in his hands. “I don’t know,” Guy says quietly. “No one’s asked me about me in a long time. I don’t think I actually do anything that’s not centered around Emma.” He hesitates, then his face brightens. “I like rock climbing, but I can’t remember the last time I went.”
“Good thing we’ve got lots of rocks.” I glance toward the window. If the man wants to climb, he could have married into worse. Half the ranch is on the side of a mountain.
“Hey, I got a call tonight after you went upstairs,” Guy brings up. “From one of the guys on the job I just had. The town needs an extra set of hands for the Christmas village they’re building in town, and the foreman said he’d let me bring Emma. Unless you need me to stay and help around here tomorrow? I know the ad was a joke, but there’s a lot of work here, and I’m happy to help.”
“You’re allowed to take Emma to the jobsites?” I ask curiously before I realize what he’s not saying. He probably takes Emma because he can’t afford to leave her in day care.
“When I can,” Guy says softly. “It doesn’t always work out easily, but Em and I are a team.”
“Do you want to leave her here?” I venture, not sure if I’m overstepping my bounds. “There’s nothing I’m doing tomorrow I can’t do while keeping an eye on her.”
Guy shifts uncertainly, glancing up the stairs where his daughter is sleeping in her new room with Barley, who’s made it clear he’s her dog now, not mine. “Yeah?”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it. You don’t know me any more than I know you. Leaving her with me is probably a scary thought.”
“Leaving her with anyone is a scary thought.” He sucks in a tight breath. “But my daughter deserves more than dirty hotels and watching videos in the back seat of my truck all day. Are you sure? Her schedule can be a lot.”
I move closer to him, leaning on the other side of the kitchen island. “I mean… We’re married now. It would be good to get to know Emma a little better. And it gets quiet around here, so it would be nice to have the company.” I try not to make it sound as pathetic as it feels. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m the loneliest I’ve ever been in my life—not that Guy needs to know.
“I’ll ask her in the morning if she wants to stay here or go with me. But knowing my daughter, she’ll pick staying here.” Guy’s voice catches a little, then he blinks rapidly before nodding. “Thank you, Sienna.”
“Don’t thank me too much. Remember, you’re a man about to spend his wedding night on the couch.” I tease him, because it’s easier than saying what I’m really thinking. Eat something. Eat everything in this house, and I’ll go find more.
“I’m going to sleep tonight knowing Emma is going to stay on the transplant list,” he says in a tone I usually reserve for melted chocolate. “You have no idea how hard I prayed for that. Then God answered me. I’m the happiest man in the world right now.”
When he reaches across the island and gently squeezes my hand, I’m tempted to believe him.