After showering, getting dressed, and making myself somewhat presentable, I threw on my backpack when I heard Amanda honking. I went downstairs and heard Sylvia and Rafe laughing in the kitchen as they cleaned up the breakfast dishes. It made me grumpy that she seemed to be on his side. If she liked him so much, she could marry him.
Stepping out into the cold winter morning, I ran over to Amanda’s idling truck and let myself in.
“Thanks for the ride.”
I must have said it more gruffly than I intended to because she glanced over at me as she backed out of the driveway and said, “I know it’s none of my business, but there’s something I want to ask you.”
None of her business. Like that ever stopped anyone here from constantly giving their opinions about everything.
“Why are you trying so hard to make yourself mad at him?”
I opened my mouth to respond and couldn’t. Amanda had always been someone I admired and respected. I couldn’t lie to her. Because if I was being at all honest with myself, it was an effort to stay mad at him. It didn’t feel natural at all.
“Since I’ve known you, you’ve always been this happy and mellow person. Which you haven’t really been since you got back. And especially not since he got here.”
She flipped her brights on, given that we were the only ones on the back road this early in the morning.
“I’m not sure what to say,” I finally admitted.
She shrugged. “There’s probably not much to say. I think it says a lot about Rafe that he has this kind of effect on you.”
Amanda reached over and turned on a radio station, leaving me to my thoughts. Had I really changed that much? And why was I working so hard to be angry with Rafe?
I knew why. Because it was the only way to keep myself safe from him. I ran through my list. He knew too much. He’d made me feel too much. He’d betrayed me and humiliated me.
Maybe you should let him explain why, something inside me said. The voice sounded a lot like my aunt.
I told her to be quiet and closed my eyes, trying to get some sleep on the way into the city.
Whitney had asked to take my shift at the diner, and I couldn’t say no. According to Rafe, I never said no. But in this instance it was justified, because she needed the money more than I did.
It should have given me time to study, but instead I drifted off. Facedown, on my keyboard.
Which I discovered because the smoke alarm started going off. I awoke with a start, my face throbbing from all the places where the keys had poked it. “Sylvia!” I called out, racing downstairs. I didn’t smell any smoke.
She was taking a nap on the couch, oblivious to the sound.
I burst into the kitchen, but there was no smoke there either. The oven wasn’t even on. It was then I realized that the alarm wasn’t coming from inside the farmhouse.
It was coming from the guesthouse.
That was seriously all I needed. I was pretty sure that we had no insurance on the farm, so if the whole place burned down, we’d have no way to replace anything, and then we really would lose it all.
I knocked on his door, but I didn’t think he could hear me over the alarm. So I let myself in and saw the kitchen was full of smoke. Rafe was reaching out for the burning pan on the stove.
“Wait, don’t!” I said, but I was too late.
He dropped the pan on the floor as he realized he was burning his fingers. I rushed over, grabbing the pan with a spare dishtowel and putting it in the sink. I hit it with the towel until the flames went out. I opened the window over the sink to let the room ventilate.
Without thinking what I was doing, I took Rafe’s hand and put it under the faucet. I turned on cold water and held him in place, letting the water take away the sting. It didn’t look too bad. I didn’t typically deal with burns because animals didn’t have a tendency to burn themselves.
I was about to tell Rafe that when I suddenly became very aware of the physical situation I had put myself in.
He was pressed against my back. He must have bent his head, because I could feel his lips very close to my neck. He was breathing on that sensitive spot right behind my ear. His arm was against my waist as I kept his hand under the water, and he just seemed to radiate this warmth that I wanted to sink into.
This was not good.
Chapter 6
Correction—it was very, very good. So good I didn’t want to move. Which was the bad part.
“Trying to cook for yourself?” My voice sounded shaky. That connection between us, the one I’d felt when I met him for the first time, was still there. And so strong. Stronger than I had expected. Like a million ropes tethered us to one another.
“Trying. Not succeeding,” he murmured, and he must have moved his head because now I could feel his breath in my hair and it sent sparkly shivers all through me. I was so painfully and achingly aware of him pressed against me. How strong he was, and how amazing this felt. His heart pounded quickly against my back. My own heart was matching him beat for beat.