Page 15 of Tinder Embrace
My commitment to getting over him was growing weaker by the moment. Keeping my distance and struggling to manage the stairs at my apartment would have been the safest choice.
Spending more time with Davis at the farm might be easier on my foot, but it was endangering my heart.
Chapter 7
Davis
I avoided the house and Sophie as long as humanly possible. Did the month’s invoices need filing right then? Nope. But I needed a fucking break.
Carrying her to the house was a mistake. I couldn't get the mental image of her pressed against me, her legs wrapped around my waist, out of my head. I’d wanted nothing more than to scoot her around until we were groin-to-groin, then let nature take its course. Instead, I did paperwork.
Jo was going to be shocked when she got home to find me caught up on all of the farm bills and filing. I snorted, shaking my head. Scratch that – she'd know for sure something was up. The last thing I needed was my perceptive sister catching on to my feelings for Sophie. I'd worked too hard to keep them under wraps to give up now.
She thought I didn't know about her side hustle with the book club. But I listened. Heard things. It was no mystery why she disappeared once a month with a book in hand. If the rumors were true, talking about books wasn't the only thing that group did. If you caught the right whispers and approached the right people, you could wager on your neighbors.
Jo had flushed guiltily when I questioned where she got the cash for the new wort chiller. It just so happened to coincide with Shawna from the clinic and Tanner announcing their engagement.
Warm light filtered from the kitchen window as I made my way to the back door in the deepening dusk. I could barely see Sophie's silhouette in the window. It looked like she was dancing, bopping her head. Did the woman do everything with a smile? I'd never met someone so happy.
I stomped my feet on the mat, as much to announce my presence as to clean my shoes. I left my jacket and boots at the back door.
Soft music spilled from the kitchen, and I drifted closer, inexorably drawn by Sophie's soft voice humming along. Even slightly off-key, she mesmerized me.
She glanced up with a smile, all rosy cheeks and good humor as I paused in the kitchen door, raising my arms in a stretch to work out the kinks in my spine. Was it my imagination that Sophie's eyes drifted to my waist, maybe lower?
My voice was rougher than I intended when I grumbled, "What smells good?"
"I'd like to say me, but I probably smell like barn," Sophie admitted with a grin. "I made spaghetti. I hope you like it."
"Thanks."
I debated skipping the dinner table and taking my plate to my room, but one look at Sophie's hopeful face and that plan died. I couldn’t bear to be the reason that light snuffed from her eyes. Jo would also never forgive me if I were rude to Sophie. Or at least ruder than normal.
I hooked a chair with my foot, pulling it out as I maneuvered my plate to the table one-handed. I'd shoveled in my first five bites before realizing Sophie hadn't touched her dinner.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
Sophie poked at her noodles. "Do you ever get the Sunday Scaries?"
I blinked.
"It's when you get anxious about going into work on Monday." She smiled wryly. "What am I saying? You work on your own farm. It's clearly your passion." She flipped her hand. "You probably have no idea what I'm talking about."
Something about the vulnerability in her expression called to me. I couldn’t leave her hanging, feeling all alone. "I know." My voice sounded rusty to my own ears, and I cleared my throat before continuing, "I didn't always work on the farm."
"You didn't?"
I shook my head. "And, honestly, there are days there's nothing I'd rather do than pretend the farm weren't my responsibility. Anything in particular that's got you dreading Monday, or just the usual?"
She lifted a shoulder, the move drawing my attention to the bright pink bra strap peeking from the neckline of her sweatshirt. I hid my smile. Trust Sophie to forgo white or nude. Checking out her underwear had been an education. I'd been around enough to know that women had a whole rainbow of options, but I'd never seen quite the variety that Sophie kept in her wardrobe. Everything from the softest shell pink to a bawdy black that made me blush.
"Mostly the usual, but with a dash of extra apprehension about corralling my students with a sore ankle. And what's this about you not always working on the farm?" She settled her chin in her hands, expression rapt. "Do tell."
"I, uh, used to be a vet tech before my dad decided he wanted to retire from Pruitt Farms."
A broad grin broke over her face, delight making her deep brown eyes sparkle.
"Is that why you foster the kittens? Did Dr. Ma put you up to it?"
