Page 14 of Tinder Embrace
"Thanks," I murmured when he slid a plate in front of me.
My eggs were perfectly cooked.Of course they were. Davis did everything well.
We ate in silence. I tried not to let the oppressive quiet get to me and force me into speaking to fill it. Davis didn't seem to want my friendship. I firmed my chin. Too bad he still needed my help.
I waited until he'd finished his last bite before scooping up his plate and mine, making quick work of our breakfast dishes. "Ready?" I asked as I turned back to the kitchen table.
I caught Davis’s gaze skip from my butt to my face, the heat in his eyes there for a flash before he banked it into his usual stoic expression. It was on the tip of my tongue to tease him for checking out my butt, but my smart mouth was what had gotten me in trouble with him in the first place. I couldn’t let go of the idea that the way his attention lingered on my curves indicated he was protesting a little too much about our arms-length relationship.
Instead, I smoothed my expression to one of polite disinterest. "What chore is up first?"
Davis downed the last of his coffee and pushed to his feet. "Since you seem to like fertilized eggs so much, let's check on thechickens."
Cheeks burning, I joined him at the back door, tugging on one of his spare work coats before following him to the chicken coop.
I shadowed Davis through his chores, collecting eggs and feeding the kittens. As the morning wore on, Davis lost the hunch in his shoulders, seeming to relax. Maybe it helped that I held my tongue instead of peppering him with a thousand questions like I wanted.
Davis checked the soil moisture as we walked the hops rows. He noted the limp that had crept back into my gait with a frown.
"Time for lunch," he growled, gesturing back toward the house.
Slowly, I followed Davis, stumbling over a gopher hole I missed in my desire to sneak a peek at his butt. The way that man filled out his jeans should be illegal. I stroked my chin. Maybe this was an issue for the city council. I tried to imagine Davis's reaction if I succeeded in getting an ordinance passed that banned him from wearing jeans. The stubborn man would probably switch to thin sweatpants, just to spite me.
I tripped over another hole, too busy trying to decide if it was inappropriate for me to buy him sweatpants for his birthday. Even I wasn't bold enough to try to convince Jo to do it for me. She didn't need to know that I'd taken an unhealthy interest in the way her older brother filled out his shorts.
"Fork," I muttered, finding yet another gopher hole in my distraction.
Davis paused, and I held back my groan.
Busted.
He pivoted to face me, taking a slow inventory from the top of my messy hair to my barn jacket and soft denim, to the tennis shoes that weren't exactly farm-worthy but had done in a pinch. Davis's eyes narrowed as he realized I wasn't putting my full weight on my left foot.
"Climb on," he growled, crouching down and offering me his back.
I suppressed the flare of excitement. Davis seemed less than enthusiastic. His words were more order than invitation.
I wrapped my arms around his thick neck, ignoring the mix of fresh grass andeau de chickenthat clung to him. Davis boosted me up his back, his good palm cupping my backside to hold me in place as he strode toward his house. My breasts pressed against his back, my nipples hardening as they grazed the firm muscle there. I squeezed my thighs around his hips, shifting closer, letting the sweet friction build.
Caught between heaven and hell, I clung closer, willing him not to notice how turned on I was. Every step only added to my torture, cranking up my tension. Davis’s firm hand clenched around my butt, almost a massage, and I held back my gasp with effort, sure this was not what he intended when he offered to carry me. He acted like the extra weight was nothing. Like having me pressed against him, rubbing along his back, didn't bother him at all.
"Fork me," I murmured under my breath, ashamed of how flustered I was.
I rode Davis's back all the way to the house, whimpering when he set me down.
"Do you need me to carry you to your bed?" he asked, expression concerned.
"Yes."
It slipped out before I could call it back, I swear. Barely twenty-four hours, and Davis had turned me into a stone-cold pervert. Or was that red-hot?
I gathered the shreds of my composure with both hands, going for innocent. "Davis, on second thought, I can go lie down on my own. A few minutes off my feet, and I'll be good as new," I said brightly. "I'll make dinner later if you like."
"Text me if you need something." Davis's rough command sent a shiver down my spine. If only he really meant that…
I limped toward Jo's bedroom, savoring every twinge of agony shooting through my foot. I considered it penance. Davis had addled my brain. Hopefully a little pain and some time alone would help me rediscover my resolve. At this rate, three more days with Davis was going to turn me into a quivering mass of hormones.
I flopped down on Jo's bed, staring at her ceiling. My foot throbbed. Just what I deserved. So far, my plan to get over my crush on Davis by shadowing him everywhere was a bust. Every moment together only made me want him more, grumpy monosyllables and all. Because, as much as he might grumble, his actions had been impossibly sweet. Making me breakfast. Carrying me home. If the blasted man would only look at me, talk to me, I’d be convinced he wanted me too.
