“Sure.” Why the hell not. Dancing with danger seems to be in my blood. I take a moment’s pause on that thought. Hannah? Dangerous? She looks about as deadly as a baby bunny. I bend and collect a pre-chopped log, placing it upright on the stump. Then something comes to me. “Your shoulder.”
“My shoulder’s fine.” She rolls it, stepping forward and lifting the axe. At least, she tries to. She barely gets it past her waist.
“Want some help?” I ask. Help? That would mean being close to her. Touching? Is that a good idea?
She looks at me, silent for a few moments, before quietly replying, “Sure.”
I rub at the nape of my neck, struggling to find a reason not to help her. After all, I offered. And she accepted. I can do this. And actually, something inside me is satisfied she wants me to, especially since she couldn’t bring herself to even look at me before today. So I close the distance between us yet make sure our bodies don’t touch, but of course when I lean past her, my plan goes to shit and my front meets her back. I swallow and take the handle of the axe, just below Hannah’s grip. She stills, going quiet.
“You get more power if you hold the handle nearer the end,” I say quietly, my voice naturally rough. “But you lose some precision.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “So hold it here?” Her hands move onto mine.
“Yeah.” I find my eyes closing when she shifts position, rubbing into me a little. Jesus Lord above, what is she trying to do to me? “You think we’re lined up?” I ask, unable to check myself.
“I think so.”
I open my eyes and widen my stance, my nose virtually in her hair. She smells of raspberries. Sweet, juicy, delicious raspberries.
I bring my face forward and rest my chin on her shoulder, and her head turns so we’re suddenly eye-to-eye. It’s tense, as if she knows of all the thoughts currently running rampant in my head. Is it crazy that I have an urge to kiss her? Now would be the perfect opportunity, and the way she’s looking at me tells me she wants me to. Our lips are an inch apart. I can taste her breath.
I scan her face, looking for the sign I need. She blinks slowly, her breath fluttering.
There it is.
I start to lower my mouth, unable to stop myself, desperate for the feel of her lips against mine.
But she quickly turns away, and I feel her suddenly shaking as she releases her hold of the axe and ducks under my arm, moving away stealthily. “I’m sorry,” she blurts, sounding panicked, refusing to look at me.
Shit. I swallow down my disappointment and pull myself together. What was I thinking? “It’s me who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” She shakes her head furiously, and I see immediately that she’s mad with herself. Why? “It’s just…just…”
“Hannah, you don’t have to explain yourself.” I positively hate that she’s apologizing to me. What the fuck is that all about? I set the axe down and approach her, completely caught off guard when she retreats speedily. I stop. Her eyes are wide.
She grasps her hands in front of her, her fingers twiddling wildly. “I’m not very good at”—she flaps a nervous hand in front of me—“this.”
“What?” I ask. “Chopping wood?”
She gives me a tired look. “No, flirting.”
“Flirting?” I ask, trying so fucking hard to lighten the mood. “Is that what we’re doing, because I’m pretty sure we were about to chop some wood?” There’s something deep and overwhelming inside me that’s determined to make her feel better about whatever it is that’s gotten her all nervous. There’s also an unstoppable appreciation flowing through me because she’s acknowledged the attraction between us. I’m not going mad. She likes me. Good, because I’ve just this moment admitted to myself that I like her, too. A lot.
“Very funny.” She reaches forward and smacks my biceps lightly. “It’s just…it’s been a long time since…”
“You flirted?”
She sighs on a smile. “Since anyone kissed me.”
Oh my God, has there ever lived a sweeter woman? She’s like nothing I’ve met before, but I can’t shake off the notion that there are many layers to her, and I’m only just peeling back the top one. “Well, anyone clearly has better willpower than I do.” Just when I think she couldn’t be any more gorgeous, her cheeks flush and lashes flutter as she glances away. I grab the handle of the axe. Let’s move things along. “Are we gonna chop this piece of wood or not?”
Her smile is out of this fucking world, and she doesn’t think twice about putting her body in front of mine again. Taking the handle and steadying her stance, she focuses on the wood. “Hannah?” I say as I move slightly to the side and raise the axe with her.
“Yeah?”
I put my mouth close to her ear, and she inhales slowly. “I’m a good guy,” I whisper.
I can’t see her face, but I know her smile just widened. Good, because I like her smile. She brings the axe down with power and precision, and on a shout that is way too loud for her small frame. The wood splits perfectly, and she heaves in front of me, staring at it. “Oh my God, that felt so good.”
“Sounded it, too.” If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she just channeled a shitload of anger into that swing. And for the first time since I met this woman, I wonder what her story might be.
I step away from her body, but she’s not too willing to release the axe, forcing me to tug it gently but firmly until she shoots her eyes my way. “Easy, sweetheart.”
“Sorry.” She gives me an impish grin. More adorableness. “I should get going.”
I put the axe aside and motion to my truck, batting back my disappointment. “Do you want me to give you a ride into town? I’m going that way anyway.”
“No, but thanks,” she says, though I detect hesitance. “I could do with the fresh air.”
She could? Why? To clear her head? Again, why? Because of me? Fuck me, the questions. “It was nice to see you,” I say, and hate myself the second I utter the pathetic words. Nice? Fucking nice?
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Feel free to stop by anytime.” What the hell has gotten into me?
Her eyebrows raise. “If I feel like being run over, then I know where to come.” Her grin inflates my balls.
And something deep and unfamiliar stirs inside me.
Want.
* * *
After throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt, I grab my keys and head out to my truck. And damn, I’m excited. It’s evident in my hasty pace across the lawn. My idyllic haven will be complete with one more addition.
The dirt kicks up behind me as I race down the lane, but I find my foot easing off the accelerator without thought. Then my eyes start to scan. And before I know it, I’m crawling along at a snail’s pace, just in case any women decide to throw themselves under my truck.
I emerge from the woodland into the sunshine and pick up speed, heading into town. The turn into the grounds of the Hampton Estate is soon in sight, and the familiar coil of my muscles follows soon after. I drive faster up the cobbled driveway than I should, but…fuck them. I make sure I skid to a stop by the over-the-top fountain, and I make sure the Stone Roses’ “Resurrection” is blaring from my stereo for a good few seconds before I shut the engine off. As anticipated, Lady Hampton appears at the drawing room window, virtually steaming the glass with her rage. I smile on the inside as I get out, heading for the front door of the west wing. I raise my fist, ready to hammer on the wood like the animal I apparently am, but it swings open before I can reaffirm what these arseholes think of me.
It’s all I can do not to bare my teeth when Darcy appears, primped and preened as perfectly as normal—her eye shadow heavy, her lips artfully painted, her black hair harsh against her pale skin. Darcy fucking Hampton. Mega bitch.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re early.”
“By fifteen minutes.”
“You’ll have to wait. She’s not long home and ha
sn’t finished unpacking.” Darcy attempts to shut the door on me. Oh no.
“Get one of your many butlers to do it, Darcy.” I kick my booted foot out, and the wood hits my toe.
“Ryan!” she yells. “You’ll dirty the paintwork.”
I ignore her and the precious paintwork and shout past her. “Hey, Cabbage!”
“Ryan, for God’s sake!” Darcy wrestles with the door against my foot, her slick French braid losing a few strands of hair. “And don’t call her Cabbage.”
“Fuck off, Darcy,” I mutter quietly, my eyes lighting up when I hear a scuffle behind her. They’re the sounds of my girl fighting off the hands trying to make her perfect, too. And then she appears at the top of the stairs dressed in a frilly floral thing, her long brown hair in a high ponytail. What the fuck have they done to her? I disregard the state of my daughter, my smile rare but natural. “Hey, beautiful.”
I see her building up to a squeal, virtually shaking with excitement. “Dad!” Her eyes fall to the banister. And my smile widens. Go on, my girl. Own that banister.
“Don’t you dare, Alexandra,” Darcy warns, marching to the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t…you…dare.”
My daughter’s eyes meet mine. I wink. She grins. And then she throws her leg over the banister and slides down like a pro, landing on her feet at the bottom. Darcy is forced to jump out of her way to avoid being taken off her heeled pumps. “For goodness’ sake!” she shrieks, hurrying to straighten herself out.
“Chill out, Mum,” Alex chirps as she skips over. I quickly turn, ready, and she dives onto my back. I can still hear Darcy hissing and spitting in the background. “I missed you,” Alex mumbles, bringing on an edge of guilt.
“I missed you, too.” I pace to the truck with her attached to my back. “What the hell are you wearing?” I drop her to her feet, motioning down the monstrosity of a dress. She’s ten, for Christ’s sake. And she’s not a fucking doll.
“Grandmother bought me it.” Her face bunches in disgust as she grabs the skirt of the dress and twirls.
“Lucky you.”
“Hey, what happened to your truck?” She points to the bumper. “Did you have an accident?”
I shake my head. “Something ran out in front of me.”
“What?”
I stall, knowing that if I tell her the truth, there will only be more questions. And I’m not sure exactly what I’d tell her about Miss Hannah Bright. “A weasel,” I say quickly. A weasel? Not a graceful deer or a cute bunny rabbit. A weasel?
“Oh my God, did you kill it?” The look of horror on her face is ripe.
“No, I swerved and hit a tree.”
Her high shoulders drop in relief. “The poor thing. It must have been stunned.”
Stunned? It was me who was stunned. “It seemed to scamper off just fine.” I open the door of my truck for her, and she jumps in, immediately grabbing one of my baseball caps and pulling out her ponytail. I take the cap from her hand and slip it on her head, slapping the brim. “Perfect.”
As I’m walking around the front of my truck, Darcy comes running across the gravel with a bag. “Alexandra, darling, your things.”
Alex lets her window down and rests her forearms on the edge, her chin on her arms. “I have things at Dad’s.”
“You have rags at your father’s shack,” Darcy retorts, throwing me a filthy glare.
“It’s a cabin, Mum.”
“Whatever, you have homework in here that needs doing.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake, give the kid a break, woman. My girl’s been holed up at that snooty boarding school for months being worked to the bone. “She’s just gotten home for the spring holidays, Darcy. She has weeks to do her homework.”
“Of course you’d be irresponsible,” she snipes as she follows me to the driver’s door, going below the belt as always.
But I grit my teeth and force a smile, not prepared to get into an argument in front of Alex. “Her homework will be done, and it’ll be done on time. She needs some time to recharge.”
Alex pulls herself back in the truck when I get in. “Can we go home and get changed?” she asks me.
“No, we have things to do.”
Darcy appears at the window. “This is your home.”
“Throw her bag in the back.” I thumb over my shoulder and relish the look of horror on Alex’s mother’s face.
“It’s filthy.”
“Then don’t.” I pull away fast, making sure I kick up the dust, and I hear Darcy’s screeches of displeasure fade as we zoom away. Call me immature, call me mean, but that woman brings out the worst in me. Alex starts chuckling, and despite wanting to laugh with her, I put my daddy head on and give myself a telling-off before scolding my daughter. “Don’t laugh at your mother.”
“Sorry.” She kicks off her pink ballet flats and throws her feet onto the dashboard. “Where are we going?”
“Town. Put your belt on,” I order, reaching across her body to grab it.
She puts up a lame fight. “I don’t need my belt.”
I give her the look—the one she knows not to mess with. “Do it.” Fearless. That’s my girl. Sometimes to a fault.
“Okay, okay.” On a dramatic sigh, she reaches for the belt. “What do we need in town?”
“Supplies.” I turn off the private road onto the main street. “We need to finish our bridge.”
“You mean you haven’t finished it?”
“You told me not to touch it until you’re home,” I remind her. “So I haven’t.”
“Good boy,” she quips, earning a squeeze of her knee that makes her squeal and writhe in her seat. “Dad, stop!”
“You stop with the wisecracks.”
“Okay!” she laughs, settling when I release her. “Hey, did you see the new arts-and-crafts store in town? I saw it when Grandmother’s driver drove through town earlier.”
“No.” Why would I say no? And the questions in my brain start whirling again. Where has Hannah come from? Who is she?
“Dad?”
I jump in my seat and look across the truck. Alex is looking at me with a little concern. “Sorry, I was thinking.” Fool.
“What about?”
“How much I’ve missed your sassy pants.” I grin when she smirks.
“How long before you have to go back to London?”
“I’m not going back.”
“Huh?”
“I quit my job.” I peek at her out the corner of my eye, seeing astonishment and excitement emblazoned across her face. “I’m gonna build a few houses, I think. Wanna help me?”
“Oh my God!” she shrieks, making me flinch. “Like, for real?”
“For real.”
“Can I quit school?”
I chuckle to myself as I pull up in a parking bay outside the town store. “No.”
“Well, that’s not fair.” Alex unclips her belt and dives through the seats into the back. “Do I have any Vans in your truck?”
“Under my seat.” I remember seeing the black-checkered sneakers a few weeks ago when I dropped my mobile phone down the side of my seat. I jump out and pull the back door open, finding Alex in a pile on the floor of my truck, her face squished against the back of my seat, her hand reaching underneath. Her mother would have a hernia.
“I think I’ve got one,” she says, presenting me with one Van. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see something dangling off the toe and Cabbage frowns as I lunge forward, snatching away the red lacy knickers and stuffing them in my pocket quickly. “What was that?” she questions.
“Nothing.” I make myself useful and reach under the seat to find the other shoe.
“Were they knickers?”
I laugh, and it sounds one hundred percent crazy. “Why would I have knickers in my truck?”
“You tell me.”
I love how smart my girl is. Ten years old and leaving other students of her age for dust in the grades department, but as well as that, she’s life-smart. Observant.
Skilled. The private education is thanks to her mother’s stuck-up family. The life knowledge and skills are thanks to me. At this moment in time, I’m regretting making her so smart. Nothing gets past her. “They weren’t knickers.” I have nothing else.
“You lie,” she mumbles. “You got a girlfriend?”
I laugh, answering without answering. “There’s only one woman I need in my life.”
“Really, Dad?” Alex leans her shoulder against the side of the truck while I continue blindly rummaging for her other shoe. “You’re getting old.”
I cough on nothing. “I’m thirty-nine, for Christ’s sake. There’s years left in me yet.”
“And you’ll be spending them all alone at this rate.”
I lay my hand on something that feels like a shoe and pray to every god that there’s no knickers attached to this one as I pull it free. There’s not. “I won’t be alone because I have you.”
“What happens when I grow up and meet a boy? What if I move away?”
“Whoa, easy, girl.” I stare at her in horror. She’s thought about that? Because I sure as shit haven’t. “You’d leave me?” I untangle my body from the back of the truck and join her on the roadside.
Alex rolls her eyes dramatically. “You need someone to love other than me.”
Where the hell is this coming from? “I like being on my own. Besides, I’m too grouchy and set in my ways. Relationships require compromise.” I drop her Van to the ground. “They hardly match the fetching dress.” Let’s redirect the conversation quickly.
She slips her feet in the shoes and rearranges her baseball cap, her long hair splaying over her shoulders, and my mind wanders once again. To how impressed Hannah was with my cabin. To how bright her face was when she smiled, taking it all in. She wasn’t appalled. Quite the opposite, in fact. What was she thinking when she left my place? What’s she doing for the rest of the day?
“Dad, you look troubled.”
I blink and find my daughter frowning at me. “I am.” I sling my arm around her shoulder and walk us to the store. “My little Cabbage is growing up way too fast.”
She bumps into my side and collects a basket. “What do we need?”
Leave Me Breathless Page 7
