Page 15 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

He shifts on his feet, draping his arms over the railing. I point the shearers at him, wincing when the gardening tool suddenly feels too heavy. I’m fit, but I’ve never done this sort of repetitive motion before.

“If you lean on that and break it, you have to fix it.”

“This?” He lifts up to set his hands on the railing, making the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch up as he does a modified push-up.

Seriously? He’s showing off like this now?

“It’ll hold.”

I refuse to glance at his obvious physique. Yeah, he’s fit. He’s also tall with dark-brown hair that looks thick and soft, dark-green eyes that seem mysterious, and tight, tan skin everywhere I can see. Laugh lines bracket his eyes, and while his smile is sinfully sexy—

No. Not sexy. I refuse to notice him and play this game. He’s baiting me for a reaction, so I double down on maintaining my blank expression.

The railing cracks a bit. It doesn’t move as he rises to stand normally after his stunt, but we both heard the sound. His eyes go wide for the barest moment, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“You got your warning.”

He crosses his arms now. “And you’ll be the one to watch me?”

Sure, he’d like to think I’ve got my eyes on him. The more time I spend near him, the more I make it my goal to avoid him. “You wish.”

“Oh, I’m getting wishful about a lot of things.”

I scoff. “Like I wanted to tell you earlier in town…Get lost.”

“Prickly.” He smirks at me but I can tell he’s fighting a smile. “Look, Ms…. What was it? Lauren? Lauren…?”

I deadpan, waiting for him to get his moment of amusement and move on. I’m not telling him anything. The second I give in and he thinks he’s got hope, I’ll be screwed.

“Just Lauren. Got it.”

Do you?

He shrugs and heads back inside, giving me my solitude again. But now, it’s broken. Even though I can work without interruption, he lingers on my mind. The afternoon goes slower, and by the time Marian texts me, suggesting I clean up for dinner, I pout with frustration. I wanted to get more done, but my attention was split as I replayed my interaction with Caleb.

I clean up and head toward the spacious dining room for Marian’s dinner. Something roasted, and I pick up a hint of freshly baked pie in the air too. Whatever it is, I’ll trust her “system” and I know it’ll be delicious. As I enter the room, checking out the dated yet not quite antique décor of the room, I realize I’m the last one in.

The couple sits on one side of the table, chatting and smiling. Caleb is opposite them. I suppose Marian and I will sit at the head and end of the table that can seat six. I head for the chair furthest from Caleb, but Marian comes in with a plate of potatoes. “Lauren, could you please grab the rolls from the kitchen?”

I spring away from the chair, smiling and eager to help. “Of course!” I almost wince. Maybe I sound too chipper.

In the kitchen, she stops me quickly. “I noticed you were going to sit at the end.”

I frown. “Shouldn’t I? I don’t want to impose and get in the way of the guests.”

“No, no. You’re fine, honey. But I was thinking you could sit next to Caleb. Even it out.”

I blink. Even it out? What, like I’m on a double date across from the couple?

“He seems down and lonely. It’s that sixth sense thing.”

“I’ve got no doubt you’re empathetic, Marian, but…” I balk internally, but at the placid calm look on her face, I can’t bring myself to admit I want to avoid him. Clearly, I’ve got to be nice to the customers and make them feel welcome. “Sure.”

Dammit.

When we return, I greet the couple and reluctantly sit next to Caleb. I’m glad the husband and wife are the chatty kind of folk. They chatter and joke about what they saw on their hike earlier, and I pay attention to them, only them, even though I’m too aware of the man seated next to me.

I won’t look at him, but I’m here. He’s not alone.

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