Broken Hero

“You were raised in the country,” I say. “You can take care of yourself.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because she looks away again and her blush deepens. “I’m sorry. It was unprofessional.”

I can’t argue with that-it was. It’s also not her fault. “There’s a shower in the staff changing room in the main house. I’m sure there are fresh clothes around, as well. Just ask Mandy or-”

“I have an extra set,” she says quietly. “Thank you, though.”

And then she’s off, walking away from me with the jerky movements of someone who would rather run but knows they can’t. My shirt is big on her. It looks good, with the shape of her legs entirely visible through the clinging fabric of her dress. The need that sweeps through my body at the sight nearly takes my breath away.

“Fucking hell.” I’m no better than the men I claim to despise-than fucking Gavin Whittaker. I need to have a talk with my farmhands.

And I need to have a talk with myself.

She’s not mine; not to protect and not to defend. And she’s certainly not mine to lust over. And yet, I have a feeling that I won’t be able to get the sight of her body, luscious and wet, out of my mind.

I’m so embarrassed.

It’s all I can think about as I turn and toss that night. Despite the open window, the sheets cling to my skin. The sleepless hours give me plenty of time to run through what happened again, and again, and again.

I had tripped and gotten mud all along my bare leg, right up to the edge of my dress. It was embarrassing, sure, but a minor incident. Tim had been kind enough to help me out.

John had knocked him aside, and the water had gone everywhere.

It hadn’t been more than a few seconds before I was soaked entirely and a water fight began, and somehow, Tim got sprayed too. It would have been a fun, slightly unprofessional encounter if it wasn’t for the fact that Oliver saw us.

And he didn’t just see us. He saw all of me.

If I’d had a spoon, I’d been tunneling my way to China before he’d even opened his mouth. And the whip-lash strength in his words, the anger in his eyes-he’d called it a wet-t-shirt contest.

You can take care of yourself.

He’d had handed me his shirt, and I couldn’t decide if it was a gallant gesture or if it made me feel mortified to be asked to cover up.

I’d barely walked out of there with my dignity intact. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to show up tomorrow for my next appointment with my head held high.

This couldn’t be happening again. I couldn’t screw up this job-not with this sort of thing!-and not when I’d tried so hard to make it work.

I feared I’d lost the way Oliver looked at me, the mixture of challenge and interest in his blue eyes. My days were better when I saw him, however brief the encounter.

As I work in the bakery that morning, I make myself a promise. I can’t be the slightest bit unprofessional. No more sitting on his back porch, no more lounging with Mandy in reception. No more wet t-shirt contests, God forbid.

I can’t screw this up.

The morning shift runs smoothly. Both Claire and Phil are there, and seeing their sweet interactions is more than enough to cause a corresponding longing in my own heart. They have what my parents did, before the divorce. What I hope to one day have.

I overhear them talking in the kitchen as I’m stacking baguettes in the front.

“Are you making sugar cookies today? It’s been a while since you made those.”

“Yes,” Claire says. “Sarah called me last night. There’s a PTA meeting at the school tomorrow and she’s wondering if I could make a batch of end-of-school-year cookies for her.”

“End-of-school-year cookies?”

I hear her happy reply. “A graduation cap, or red apples. A green chalkboard. There are tons of options!”

I glance back just in time to see Uncle Phil press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the beating heart of this place. You know that, right?”

I smile as I finish up the rest of the stacking. Sometimes I think I’ll never find what they have, but seeing it up close gives me hope.

My stomach is a ball of nerves as I cycle up to the ranch after lunch. My client isn’t for another two hours, but I want to make sure everything is prepped and ready. And if I can, I want to talk to Oliver and apologize for the incident yesterday. I won’t be able to let go of what happened if I don’t see him-see in his eyes that I didn’t mess something up.

Mandy’s standing on the porch by reception when I arrive, giving me a massive wave. “Hiya!

“Hey.” I park my bike. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for a delivery. They called and said they should be here any minute.” She leans in closer, and I can see her eyes are sparkling. “I heard you had some fun yesterday with the boys.”

“Oh, don’t remind me.”

“Why not? Did something happen? Tim and Jack didn’t do something wrong, did they?”

“No, not at all. We were just playing around. But I think we annoyed the boss a bit.”

Mandy waves that off. “He’s like that with everyone.”

I’m not really sure if I agree with that. “Not with his sister, or with his friend, Logan.”

She frowns. “Yeah, well, men don’t always act the same around everyone.”

“No, you’re right about that,” I say, thinking of Kyle. “Do you know if Sarah is around?”

“Yes, she’s in the staff kitchen. Why?”

“I want to talk to her about something. See you later?”

Mandy smiles and I head through reception, back to where Sarah is carefully folding napkins. She seems to have a hand in all kinds of pies, but I haven’t missed the fact that it’s Oliver who’s here from sun-down to sun-up.

She grins at me. “Lucy! Are you ready for your next client? Here, have a croissant.” She pushes one my way across the kitchen island. “We have some left-overs from the breakfast buffet.”

“Thanks, but I’m stuffed. I have an idea I want to talk to you about.”

“Shoot.”

“You know how we spoke about maybe having yoga in the spa? In the main room?”

“Yes. I’ve already included it in the package we’re putting together for wedding receptions and bachelorette parties. It’s a great idea, Luce.”

“What if we had a weekly class for people from town? It would bring in extra income and it might introduce the spa to the people of Claremont. Give back to the community a bit.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.