Page 22 of Falling for the Grumpy Stranger

“Was it the rats?” I asked.

He looked up in question.

“You look tired,” I noted. I also noted that he still looked very handsome, dark circles and all.

“Yeah, I didn’t get all that much sleep last night.”

“Too cold or too many squeaks and creaks? This house does make a lot of noise.”

“Uh, yeah, partly that, and partly—” He shook his head. “Just some annoying things that followed me here from my previous life.”

“I get it, and I won’t ask any more prying questions.” I really had to learn to turn off thenosy posyspigot around Rhett. Itseemed there were a lot of layers to the man, and he wasn’t willing to peel anything back.

“Do you have enough now for your first article?” He took a bite of pizza.

“I do, thanks to you, and thanks to Doctor Nielsen for leaving such a detailed description of the care he provided.”

“I can’t believe they used mercury back then as if it was just a harmless little salve. Do you want more tea?” he asked and started to get up.

“I’ll get it. You made lunch.” I headed across to the refrigerator.

“I literally took a pizza out of the box and put it in the toaster oven.”

“Like I said—you made the lunch.” I leaned into the refrigerator. Aside from the tea, a six pack of beer, a package of cheese and a jar of mayo, it was empty. I grabbed the bottle of tea. As I swung around, my gaze swept past the window at the far end of the kitchen. Something moved, so my eyes went back to the window. “Who is that?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Rhett asked.

I walked toward the window. There was still enough dirt on the outside of the glass to make the landscape blurry. I reached the window and peered out. Fallen trees, tall weeds and what looked like the remnants of an old wheelbarrow were the only things outside the dusty pane. Rhett walked up behind me, and his sudden nearness, along with the scent of his soap that I’d grown very fond of, caused me to forget why I was standing at the window. It was that same giddy, breathless feel I got the day before. I’d had a nice one-sided chat with Margaret about it and we (namely, I) decided it was from sitting so long in the cold house. But the kitchen was considerably warmer than the rest of the house, so that excuse no longer held weight.

“What did you see?” There was an edge of concern in his tone.

I was still standing in the cloud of his wonderful scent, so it took me a second to understand the simple question. I surveyed the yard again. Clouds had moved in to cast some spooky shadows on the deserted landscape. “For the briefest second, I thought I saw a figure standing out there, but it must have been the breeze playing with the trees.”

“I don’t see much breeze,” Rhett said.

“Obviously, I was mistaken.” We returned to the table. “I can help with the books after lunch. After all, that was part of the deal, and I think I’ve got what I need to write my first piece.”

“You don’t need to help. Those books are really dusty.”

I was disappointed. “Oh, right, then I’ll just head home after lunch.”

He peered at me over the rim of his glass. “Although I certainly don’t mind the company if you want to stack them in boxes.” There was just enough smile with the suggestion to send a silent tremble through me. And then it hit me—like a bag of dusty old books. I was falling for the man. Leave it to me to do something so stupid—and on my first assignment.

The revelation stole my tongue.

“I’m sure you have better things to do,” Rhett said quickly. “The books can wait.”

Now what? The best thing would be for me to forge ahead and pretend that I hadn’t just come to the stunning conclusion that I was falling for Rhett Lockwood. At the very least, I was bound to the house for the next five weeks to finish the assignment. Darn the house and its horrid curse.

“No, I’d love to help,” I said airily, but inside, I wanted to scold myself for being such a fool. On the bright side, maybe the more I hung out with him, the less I’d like him. That seemed to always happen with men I dated. First dates were fine, even thesecond ones would leave me feeling at least slightly giddy, but usually by the fourth or fifth, I was trying to come up with the best way to break it off. I had no idea why that was my limit, but it had always been that way with me. I was sure that after five more weeks in this cold, dusty house and in constant proximity to the man, I’d be running from the house without daring to look back.

We finished lunch and headed back down the hallway to the library. Rhett hurried ahead to add some more wood to the dwindling fire. Some of the heat seemed swallowed up by the vastness of the room.

“I sure hope the contractor has some ideas for keeping these giant rooms at a comfortable temperature.” Rhett pushed the sleeves back on his sweater and poked the new logs. Red sparks flew up as he moved the wood around so that it sat in the middle of the red embers. As he turned, his scar caught my eye. The heat from the fire had made it darker in color. He spotted me staring at it and quickly pulled down his sleeve.

I felt ashamed for staring. “I’m sorry. It looks painful,” I said.

His jaw tightened. “Can’t feel it … anymore,” he said curtly. The topic had upset him, and I was to blame. Then the tension in his jaw grew when he got a text. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. I thought he might bite right through his teeth as he read the text. He ignored it and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “You know, I think I’m too tired to continue this today. Do you have enough for your first article? You’re welcome to take all those papers with you.”

---