Page 29 of Townshipped
“Yes! She’s been in tons of movies, won Oscars, and she wrote a book about having past lives. She even claims she lived in the lost city of Atlantis—more than once.”
Aiden acts like I won the lottery. “You remembered her!”
“A lot of use that will be. Hey, folks. I don’t know who I am or where I’m from, but if you ever want to know if Shirley MacLaine was in a movie, I’m your go-to gal.”
Aiden chuckles. “You’re in rare form this morning. Maybe midnight waking makes your sass come out double time.”
“Sass? Me?”
He raises an eyebrow, and while the expression is merely meant to confirm his assessment of me, his look sends a shiver of warmth across my belly. He stands to clear his plate and his next words are plain as day even though he’s facing the sink with the water running.
“I like a woman with sass.”
I wonder why someone hasn’t snatched Aiden up.
Note to self: find out more about his history.
“So, what’s your day like today?” I ask.
“Just odd jobs around the farm, catching up on work. With the influx of local tourists who came to get a glimpse of you Wednesday, I’m a full day behind on a few projects. And then it’s family supper at my parents’ tonight.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll come,” Aiden says. Then he adds, “Unless you don’t want to. You could stay here.”
“No. I want to come. Of course.”
“Great. You already know everyone who will be there. Oh, except Dad. You’ll meet him tonight. Do you want to read a book while I finish chores and work? I’ve got a few bookcases you could browse to find a book you might like.”
“Why don’t you show me your to-do list. I’ll help you tackle chores first, and then while you are working, I can read.”
Aiden looks like he wants to tell me no, but when he sees the determined look in my eyes, he sighs, shakes his head, and agrees. He jots down everything to be done and we look at the list together.
When I’m finished with the rugs and sweeping and have switched a load into the dryer, I make my way into the living room where Aiden has two bookcases flanking his fireplace. I peruse the titles, which are surprisingly an eclectic collection of genres, and end up withPride and Prejudice. What kind of man keeps romance novels on his shelves?
Aiden, that’s who.
I lose myself in the story and only get up to switch the next load of laundry and fold everything that comes out of the dryer. Then I curl up on the couch for the rest of the afternoon reading. At around four thirty Aiden walks into the living room and stretches his arms overhead revealing a sliver of toned abdomen right above his beltline. I take him in until I realize he’s watching me watching him.
He turns, but I catch the side of his mouth twitching up into a grin. At least I think that’s what I see. My own grin spreads across my face and I don’t think I could contain this smile if I wanted to. Thankfully, he’s already walking the other way.
“I’m about to feed the goats and Lily early so I can clean up for dinner at my folks’. Want to come with me to the pasture?”
“I’d love it.”
I stand and look for a bookmark. Aiden walks over and takes one off a small stack on the bookcase.
“So,Pride and Prejudice, huh?” he asks as he hands me the bookmark.
“I’m trying to unravel the mystery of Aiden MacIntyre. What kind of man keeps romances on his shelves?”
“I like the classics. Among other things.”
I hum as I consider him and his answer. His amber eyes meet mine and I don’t look away, even though it feels like he can see right through me. We stand there for a moment, wordlessly studying one another. A contented smile slips onto my face, less bold than the grin I sported a minute ago.
“Well, let’s go feed the goats,” he says, turning to walk out of the room.
That was a Darcy move, I think to myself with a chuckle.
