Chapter 5
five
AMANDA
The day’s plan was simple.
Get up before the clients.
Check the day’s schedule.
Email the catering team with the clients’ last-minute changes.
Absolutely, under no circumstances must I think about the relentlessly cheerful gardener.
The gardener whose forearms had inspired utterly indecent thoughts while I tossed and turned in bed the previous night.
I intended to avoid him at all costs. I didn’t need a human-shaped dog trailing around judging me.
Unfortunately, the universe had a sick sense of humour.
I couldn’t find the floral arrangements for the breakfast table, and the florist told me she’d left them in the greenhouse in water to keep them looking their best. So I pulled on a pair of Wellington boots at least four sizes too large, and headed out into the cold morning air to locate them.
A rhythmic thunk thunk thunk as I approached the greenhouse piqued my interest.
I should’ve kept walking. But curiosity got the better of me.
I followed the sound around to the left of the greenhouse and stopped dead at the sight that awaited me.
Henry.
Shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, a mossy green jumper slung over a pile of frost-covered logs, and a long axe gripped in his calloused finger.
Those blonde curls were damp around his forehead with effort, his breath fogging in the cold air as he brought his arms up and slammed the awaiting log, splitting it in two.
Damn. I’d like him to split me in two.
Fuck. No. That thought could take a long walk off a short plank.
Still, the way his forearms corded with veins had me clenching my thighs. Henry might act like a goofy pet, but he looked like he’d walked straight off the cover of an old bodice ripper.
He paused to wipe his brow with his forearm, and I found myself biting my lower lip. Then, he placed the next log, his thumb skimming the face of the wood. Those veins shifted under his skin, and I accidentally let the tiniest of moans escape.
Oh no.
Heat shot straight through me, sharp and wild.
It was absurd. I didn’t even like him.
Not my type. I liked men with a sharper edge…
Still, my brain betrayed me with dirty little thoughts.
What would it feel like to let Henry handle me like he handled the wood?
Nope. Absolutely not. Delete that thought.
I turned to leave before I got caught moaning again, but my oversized boot caught on a plant pot, sending me arse over tit onto the frozen paving slabs.
One undignified yelp later, I sat on the ground, clutching my ankle through the rubbery traitors.
'Everything all right there?'
Of course he’d heard me.
Henry crouched beside me, all big blue eyes and thick fingers.
'Don’t move,' he said, his calm demeanour almost commanding. I folded like a cheap deck chair.
'I’m fine,' I lied. 'Just tripped.'
'Right,' he said, smiling a little. 'So you’re holding your ankle for emotional support?’
He reached out a hand. 'Come on.'
'I can get up myself.'
'You could,' he said, 'but you’ll just hurt it more. Stop being so pig-headed and let me help you.’
Before I could protest, he scooped an arm under mine and half-lifted, half-guided me toward the greenhouse. It had been bad enough watching him from afar, but being pressed up against his warm side had my stomach flipping.
'Honestly,' I said, 'this is unnecessary.'
'Humour me.'
He eased me down onto a wooden bench among rows of plants and glass jars filled with cuttings.
'Right,' he said, crouching again. 'Let’s have a look.'
'That’s not—'
He was already gently tugging off the boot.
'Sit still,' he murmured, and a ribbon of heat filled me. My sock followed, and when his thumb skated my ankle, it took everything in me to avoid my face giving me away.
His hand wrapped gently around my ankle, steady and warm, as he turned it this way and that. He wasn’t remotely inappropriate, unfortunately. It was attentive.
But my insides didn’t care about that. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like a gaudy shopping centre Christmas tree.
'Does that hurt?' he asked, looking up.
His eyes were the exact colour of the winter sky on a clear day, and one curl hung down to graze his brow. I wanted to tuck it away, but daren’t move.
I swallowed. 'No.’
He raised a brow.
‘Well, maybe a little.'
Why did I feel so undone around him? When he looked up at me, it sent my groin into a tizzy. Inexplicable.
'It’s just a twist,' he said, his fingers remaining against my skin. 'You’ll be all right. Bit of rest, bit of ice.'
His fingers pressed once, testing the joint, and my pulse quickened. When I inhaled sharply, he narrowed his eyes at me.
‘Pain?’ he asked.
I swallowed hard and shook my head. Those blue eyes darkened just enough to slap me out of whatever nonsense I indulged in.
Standing, I winced at the cold ground beneath my naked foot and cleared my throat. ‘Thanks, but I really must get on. Will you grab the floral centrepieces from the greenhouse and bring them indoors, please?’
‘Of course.’ Henry stood as I took my boot and pulled it back on before walking past him, ignoring the ache in my ankle.
'And Amanda?’ I turned as he said my name, the sound adding another ribbon of heat. ‘Next time you want to watch me chop wood, maybe do it from a safe distance, yeah?'
Mortification exploded in my chest. 'I was not watching you.'
He stepped closer to me, reaching out and running his thumb over my jaw. I should have stepped back, told him to fuck off, but I couldn’t help myself. I tipped my head just a fraction into his touch.
'I enjoyed being watched by you.’
That gravelly voice. That infuriating calm. He looked down at me, head tilted, eyes filled with soft amusement. 'You okay?'
'Fine,' I lied.
Then he left me there, all topsy turvy and both infuriated at his gall, and wet as his brazenness.
Maybe the puppy had teeth after all.