Page 68 of Guarded Love

"I've got this neat little hack," David says. "My grandfather taught me when we worked his garden back home."

I try to pull away, but he's already flipping the glove inside out at the wrist. "Really, I’m good. I can figure it out?—"

"Just one second," he insists, folding the excess material back on itself and creating a sort of cuff. His thumb strokes across my palm as he works. "There. Perfect fit now."

I resist the urge to gag. "Thanks," I say flatly, pulling my hand away.

"My pleasure." David's smile widens. "You know, I've always had a thing for girls who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty."

"Is that right?" I turn back to my weeding, hoping he'll take the hint.

He doesn't. Instead, he crouches beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. "Absolutely. Shows character. Plus, you look cute when you're concentrating."

I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove his observations when I hear Blaise clear his throat behind us. "She said she's good.”

David glances up at Blaise, but his smile stays planted on his face. "Just helping her out, man."

We’re outside, but the tension between us is now as thick as a heavy smoke. I can probably cut it with a pair of gardening shears. I look between them, confused by Blaise's tone and whatever else is going on here.

"I think the oregano needs your attention more than Willow's gloves do," Blaise says slowly as if he’s making sure David understands every word.

David raises his hands as if he’s surrendering, that infuriating grin still in place. "No problem. Just being friendly." He winks at me before returning to his section of the garden.

I stare at Blaise, who's already turning back to his basil plants. What the hell was that about? Since when does he care who flirts with me? Is he jealous?

The thought spins through my mind and I’m stuck wondering if this could mean…no, that can't be it. I watch him with disbelief, trying to reconcile his silence with his protectiveness. Seriously, what the fuck was that?

I know I should be annoyed, but instead, I'm something else. Something that feels like…hopeful and I hate that. Something I don't want to admit. I want to understand what he's doing, why he's doing it, anything that explains what just happened.Instead, I turn it over in my head again and again. Maybe I should chalk this situation up to being a glitch in the matrix or something.

"I can handle myself, you know," I say quietly, not wanting David to overhear.

Blaise doesn't look up. "Never said you couldn't."

"Then what was that?"

"Nothing," he says as he keeps his eyes fixed on the basil. "Just seemed like you weren't interested in his help. Nor did you want him touching you."

I'm suddenly at a loss for words. How did he—? Since when does he—? My mind races with questions I can't form, let alone ask. "Thanks," I finally say, my voice smaller than I intended. "I guess."

Blaise just nods once and while I’m pulling weeds, all I can think about now is that I have more questions than answers. As a journalist, none of that sits right with me.

And I’m determined to find out.

21

BLAISE

I’d hoped that all of the exercise I’d gotten today would have led to me being tired enough to pass out, but apparently that is not the case. I know this is absolutely ridiculous at this point, but here we are, and I need to do something about this fast.

With a heavy sigh, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, scrolling through my apps until I find the meditation one I downloaded months ago but never used. In the three seconds it takes the app to load, I hear Tyler snore, and I’m reminded that I should grab my headphones, so I don’t disturb him. At least one of us can sleep.

I could watch some old content from some of my favorite streamers, but that would stimulate me versus making me tired. I plug in my earbuds and tap on "Sleep Sounds." The app offers me a menu of options: Gentle Rain, Ocean Waves, Forest Night, White Noise. I select Ocean Waves and set the timer for thirty minutes, hoping that's long enough to shut my brain down.

The sound of water swaying softly back and forth fills my ears and I close my eyes in an effort to try to focus on the sound instead of the slideshow of today's events playing behind myeyelids. Willow kneeling in the dirt. David hovering too close to her. The flash of irritation I felt watching him touch her hand.

"Breathe deeply," a soothing female voice tells me. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I follow the instructions and feel slightly ridiculous. This isn't me. I don't do meditation apps. I solve problems through structure and planning, not breathing exercises.

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