Page 18 of Blackwood

I dropped the phone with a grimace and picked at my sandwich. “Okay. And I told you that I can’t wait to leave, so we’re on the same page. Why would those facts keep you from telling me why your fingernails are covered in filth sometimes?”

“It’s not filth.” He shook his head. “While you’re lying around eating my delicious food all day without lifting a finger, I’m working.”

“On what?” In all the research I’d done, I never found Garrett to have any real source of income other than timber and oil royalties on the Blackwood property.

“Why do you care?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the rolled up sleeves of his shirt revealing some dark ink snaking across his skin.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Why does it matter?”

I crunched the salty chips. “It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so stubborn about not wanting to tell me. Now I have to know.”

“You’re calling me stubborn?” He arched a dark eyebrow.

“I see your hearing is working fine.” I plucked out another chip.

His lip twitched, a smile trying to form but failing. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you can’t cook for shit.” I ticked off my fingers as I went. “You avoid me if possible. You have a secret pastime that turns your nails black. You are secretly kind. And you desperately need a haircut.”

“That’s all?”

“And a shave.” I drew my legs up under the blankets, happy to be able to move them without searing pain.

“Want to know what I know about you?” He walked in and sat on the spot my feet had just vacated.

“Sure.”

“You forged my signature on permission documents. You trespassed on my land. You almost got killed by wild boars.” His smirk began to surface. “You are eternally grateful to me for saving your life. And you have some major daddy issues.”

I stopped mid-chew. “What?”

“That’s right.” He snagged a chip from my plate and ate it. “You talk in your sleep. Most of the time it’s nonsense, but every so often you say ‘dad’.”

“You watched me sleep?”

He glanced away. “Sometimes when you were on the pills, you’d be sleeping when I came in with food.”

I didn’t buy his excuse, but I was more worried that I said something to give myself away. “So what kind of daddy issues do you suspect?” I tried to keep my tone playful.

“I’m not sure, but there’s something about the way you say his name.” He pinned me with an inscrutable look. “It seems like you’re sad. Like…”

My appetite dried up. “What? Like what?”

“It’s like you’re lost and you’re desperately trying to find him. Like if you could only get to him, everything would be okay.” He shrugged. “It makes me hope you find him. That’s why I never wake you up.”

I studied the strong line of his jaw, the messy locks of hair, and looked deeper. The man underneath wasn’t so easily discerned. For the first time since I’d shown up on his doorstep, I finally saw Garrett Blackwood.

Chapter Eleven

“What’s going on?” Ileaned against the doorframe and tried not to sound as exhausted as I felt.

Garrett didn’t turn around. “If you were trying to surprise me, maybe you shouldn’t have come down the stairs sounding like a wounded elephant.”

I stared at the library. Books lined the walls and only stopped for a window or a door. The turret along the front of the house spiraled up in the corner and let in plenty of light despite the encroaching trees.

“I’m proud of myself enough for the both of us.” My left leg had healed to the point it could bear my weight without too much pain. The bone was fine, but the skin itched and stretched where the stitches ran along my calf. I only hoped the scars wouldn’t be too noticeable.

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