Page 20 of Restored By the Mountain Man
"Clearly, you both need to be properly fed. Daily." She turns to me with a conspiratorial whisper that everyone can hear. "This one needs a woman to take care of him. Too much time alone isn’t good for a man."
I nearly choke on my wine. "Oh, we're not... we're just colleagues."
Veronica's knowing look is remarkably similar to the one Mrs. Patterson gave us this morning. "Mmm hmm. Colleagues."
Dinner conversation flows easily. Francisco and Veronica are natural storytellers, sharing tales of farm life, festival disasters, the challenges of keeping a family business thriving across generations. Ezra relaxes as the evening progresses, even laughing at Francisco's impression of a particularly stubborn bull.
It's the most animated I've seen him. I study his face when he thinks I'm not looking. His eyes crinkle when he really smiles and his whole demeanor softens when he's comfortable.
"The festival starts Wednesday," Veronica says as she serves homemade pineapple upside down cake enhanced with spiced Caribbean rum. "You should come back. Both of you."
Ezra's smile fades almost imperceptibly. "We'll see. Busy time at the distillery."
"All the more reason to take a break," Francisco insists. "Life's not just about work, my friend."
After dinner, we walk back to the RV under a canopy of stars. The night air is cool, carrying the scent of harvest and the distant sound of machinery running late into the evening.
"They're good people," I say as we climb the RV steps.
"The best." Ezra holds the door for me and I'm acutely aware of how his body fills the small doorway, how I have to brush past him to enter.
Inside, the RV feels even smaller than it did this afternoon. The overhead lights cast everything in warm, intimate tones, andsuddenly the reality of our situation hits me full force. We're going to share that bed. Sleep next to each other. All night.
"I should get ready for bed," I say, my voice pitched higher than normal. "Long day tomorrow."
Ezra nods but doesn't move. We stand there for a moment, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. Then he clears his throat and steps aside.
"I'll walk you to the house when you need the bathroom," he says matter-of-factly.
Right. The broken plumbing. "Thanks, that's thoughtful."
I grab my toiletry bag and head for the main house, grateful for the few minutes alone to brush my teeth and change into my sleep clothes. I'd packed modest pajama pants and a tank top, but now they feel inadequate. Too revealing. Too intimate for sharing a bed with my boss.
When I return, Ezra takes his turn and I busy myself in the bedroom, trying to create some semblance of a barrier down the middle of the bed with the extra pillows. It looks ridiculous, like a fort built by children but it makes me feel slightly less anxious about the arrangement.
By the time he returns wearing flannel pants and a white t-shirt that clings to his chest, I'm already under the covers on my designated side, the pillow wall between us like a cotton fortress.
"Good night," I say, not trusting myself to look at him as he approaches the bed.
"Night, Zoe."
The bed dips as he settles on his side and I hold my breath, hyperaware of every movement. The pillow barrier suddenly seems ineffective. Flimsy. Just fabric and stuffing separating me from the most attractive man I've ever worked with.
I lie in the darkness, listening to him settling beside me, the sound of his breathing gradually deepening. The RV is quietexcept for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional settling noise.
I should be exhausted. It's been a long day and tomorrow promises to be just as busy. But my mind won't settle. Every small sound makes me more aware of his presence just inches away.
Around midnight, nature calls with increasing urgency. I try to ignore it but eventually I have to admit defeat. I slip out of bed as quietly as possible but the movement disturbs the pillow barrier and one tumbles on top of Ezra.
"Zoe?" Ezra's voice is immediate, alert. "Everything okay?"
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. I need to use the bathroom."
I hear him sit up, then the sound of bare feet on the floor. "Come on."
We slip out of the RV quietly, not wanting to wake Francisco and Veronica. The farmhouse is dark and Ezra produces a small flashlight to guide our way.
"You don't have to come with me," I protest softly as we approach the house.
