Page 36 of Beautiful Distraction

“Not in that kind of way. You have the wrong Boyd. I investin my brother’s clubs.” Another evasion and so clearly a lie. He points to myplate, his tone a bit sharper than before. “Tuck in.”

The accent comes through so pronounced it vibrates its waythrough all my hidden spots, and I almost topple off my chair. If he notices mygrowing discomfort at being alone with him, he doesn’t mention it.

Obviously I can’t force him to tell me more about his life.

I take a few hesitant bites of egg omelet and force myselfto chew and swallow slowly. The rich taste of full-fat registers somewhere atthe back of my mind, but all I can focus on is the scent of aftershave waftingfrom him and the fact it’s doing strange things to my body.

Like impairing my breathing.

And making it very, very difficult to focus on anything buthim.

“Caught a cold last night?” Kellan stops eating and turns tome. His piercing gaze reminds me of dark green meadows and the mystery thatcomes with them.

“Why?” Narrowing my eyes at him, I put down my fork and takemy coffee again to warm my hands. I might be hungry, but there’s no way I caneat around him. Not when we’re alone in his way-too-masculine house and he’s lookingat me with a combination of disdain and intensity that makes me too aware of mybody’s reactions to him.

“You sound breathless. And I haven’t even made you comeyet.” His brow shoots up, and a lazy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

He’s such a jerk!

“FYI, it was cold outside. I froze my ass off out there andprobably caught a cold.”

“Or you’re into me.”

“I can assure you I’m not.” I raise my chin and stare himdown with as much frostiness as I can muster. “I’ll grab some aspirin fromtown.” I emphasize the last part so he won’t get the impression I want to stickaround.

“No need. I have some.” He gets up. His back is turned to meas he begins to rummage through the drawers. Eventually, he pushes an emergencykit toward me and sits back down. “Feel free to take whatever you need.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be around for much longer,” I say.

In fact, sticking around is the last thing I’d do, but Ikeep that to myself.

His frown returns, and for a moment, his eyes remind me ofemeralds—cold and hard. But the impression disappears quickly and makesroom for the nonchalant, almost contemptuous expression that he seems to sportwhenever he looks at me. It’s either contempt or lust, like he can’t decidewhich way to feel about me.

I bet the words ‘jerk’ and ‘arrogant prick’, which prettymuch sum up our first encounter back in NYC, have etched their way into his ego,and now he’s scarred for life at the idea some skirt doesn’t think he’s God’sgift to the female population.

He can’t take rejection.

It’s no longer a question. It’s a fact.

“You know,” he starts with a smug grin, “the streets out oftown are flooded. There’s no hotel so, as things stand, you’ll have to tolerateme for a little longer. You can keep busy by helping out with the livestock.”

A kind of challenge flickers to life in his gaze, like hethinks I’d never dirty my hands.

The condescending prick!

I add that to my mental dictionary of words that perfectlydescribe Kellan.

“When’s the mechanic coming?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Did you call him or not?”

“The lines are still down. The storm must have hit a phonepole.”

I take a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “So you haven’tcalled him, like you said.”

“I never said I did. I only said I would.” His eyes catchmine, the glint in them naughty and devilish. “But no worries, you’re notimposing, if that’s what you’re worried about. The guestrooms have been vacantfor so long, I’ll be happy to entertain you. I’m very good at it, as you’veprobably noticed.”

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