by Darcy Daniel
As she took a seat on the lumpy sofa, she said, “I can’t believe you don’t have a dishwasher.”
“I do now.”
“Very funny.” She looked at him, but he didn’t turn to face her. If she hadn’t known he was blind, she would swear he was actually watching the television.
She released a silent breath, not sure how to proceed in this unfamiliar territory. Deciding to jump right in, she said, “So, do you need to, you know, touch my face or something so you know what I look like?”
He turned in her direction, but his eyes rested on a spot just to the left of her ear. “I don’t do that sort of thing. Besides, what do I care what you look like?”
She hadn’t thought of that. To him it made absolutely no difference at all. She smiled. Not only was she getting away with not being judged on her Hollywood persona, but she also wouldn’t be judged on her looks. She liked that idea. Liked it a lot.
“Okay, then. Where do I sleep?” she asked.
“You’re sitting on it.”
She laid down, testing the lumpy sofa and baulked. “Ah… If I’m going to be working hard, I’ll need a good night’s sleep. This isn’t exactly comfortable.”
“Then leave.”
Oh, that was just great. She glared at him. “Do you plan on saying that every time I complain?”
Cole shrugged. “If you don’t like it—”
She threw a cushion. It whacked him right in the face. To her surprise, he smiled.
“Oh, that’s fair,” he said.
“Come on. You must have a spare bed. What about the room at the end of the hall?”
She saw his body tense, his smile fade. “There’s nothing in there. And I don’t appreciate you snooping.”
“I wasn’t snooping. I just…” Her voice trailed off as something on the ceiling moved and caught her eye. She turned to get a better look. And screamed at the top of her lungs as she leapt onto the sofa.
Cole shot to his feet. “What!”
“Spider! Oh God, it’s huge!”
Cole let out a rush of breath. “Jesus. You scared the hell outta me.”
Eyes wide with fear, she found she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the hideous creature. Its long, hairy legs clung to the ceiling in the far corner. She’d never seen one so enormous. It had to be at least the size of a dinner plate.
“Do something!” she demanded. “Kill it!”
Cole stepped closer, stopping beside her. “That’d be a little difficult, don’t you think? Besides, if it’s that big, it must be a huntsman. They’re harmless.”
Was he crazy? “But it has fangs!”
“It won’t bother you. Just ignore it.”
He really was insane. “No way am I sleeping in here with that…creature.”
“If you ask Meg nicely, I’m sure she’ll let you share her bed.”
Anthea didn’t take her gaze off the spider, but she could hear the grin in Cole’s voice. “That’s not funny.”
And then she felt something crawl up her leg. Screaming, she battered it away, only to connect with Cole’s hand.
“That was.” He laughed as he walked past the sofa and left the room.
Heart pounding, she placed a hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath. When she glanced at the spider, it had vanished. Just great. It could be anywhere. Although her fear of spiders was almost incapacitating, there were worse things than a spider in the corner. Like a spider that used to be in the corner, with no clue as to where it had disappeared to.
Well, that settled it. There was no way on earth she could sleep in here. She grabbed all available cushions and climbed over the sofa. As she headed toward the doorway, the bookcase caught her eye.
A gaping hole filled the bottom shelf where all the romance audiobooks had been. She smiled. Cole had removed them, hidden them somewhere because he was—what? Embarrassed? Whatever the reason, he didn’t want her knowing he listened to such things. Which seemed to indicate he might actually care about what she thought of him. Strange.
Then she remembered the spider. With cushions under her arms and filling her hands, she hightailed it out of there and fled toward the bathroom.
After cleaning her teeth, she took a spare sheet from the linen closet, gathered the pile of cushions she’d left in the hallway and ventured cautiously into the master bedroom.
She’d rather take her chances with Cole than risk having that spider crawl on her in the middle of the night.
As she walked in, the moonlight streamed through the open curtains, allowing enough light to see Meg asleep on her own bed in the corner.
Cole lay on his back, eyes closed, but she knew he couldn’t be asleep already. Still, she crept over to the empty side of the bed and gently placed the cushions down the middle.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice soft, yet deep.
“I’m not sleeping with that spider.”
“I know that. I mean, what’re you doing with these?” He grabbed one of the cushions.
She liked the way he’d just given her permission to sleep in his bed without actually saying it. “I’m using them as a barrier,” she explained.
He chuckled as he replaced the cushion. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
She stood there and, mouth agape, watched him roll onto his side and face the other way. He might be blind, but he was still a man. And experience told her that men always liked to take advantage at every opportunity. Okay, so the cushions weren’t concrete, but they made her feel better.
After she spread the sheet over the top of the sheet already on the bed, she slipped beneath it, thankful it wasn’t winter. She’d hate to think how different things might be if she had to snuggle under the blankets with him. But thinking thoughts like that proved a big mistake, because when she drifted off to sleep, that’s exactly where her dreams took her.
Chapter Six
Cole lay motionless beside Anthea and listened to her breathe. It hadn’t taken long to hear the steady rhythm that indicated she’d fallen asleep. Something that, he realized, wouldn’t be coming his way anytime soon.
That damn perfume she wore was more than a little distracting. When she’d stood close beside him at the stove, he had to resist every urge in his body to stop himself from leaning closer and inhaling. Didn’t she realize she shouldn’t wear perfume around him, that he needed his other four senses to be as clear as possible?
He almost slapped a hand to his forehead. Of course she’d never think of something like that. She was only interested in herself and her own agenda.
But then again, she had agreed to learn how to cook. Maybe that was just part of her research, but to his dismay, he’d enjoyed teaching her, enjoyed having the company.
The last time he’d felt so content was when his grandmother insisted he help prepare the meals every night. He smiled, remembering how he used to complain, all the while secretly enjoying their time together before his grandfather returned from the fields. He supposed it helped that her voice was so similar to his mother’s, he could almost pretend she was still there with him. His grandmother had taught him how to cook everything from toast to a three-course meal and he had loved every minute of it. Something special, he realized, Anthea hadn’t had the chance to experience herself. He may have lost his parents early, but he’d had the next best thing and would be forever grateful.
After his grandparents passed away, it had taken him almost a year to move out of his parents’ old room and finally lay claim to the master bedroom. He’d been worried that sleeping in their room might make him miss them more, but after replacing the bed and the rickety old closet, he’d found that first night in the room had made him feel closer to them.
And now he had someone in the room with him. And he liked the way that felt, liked it so much
it annoyed the hell out of him.
She shifted slightly beside him and murmured. That soft, little sound, combined with her intoxicating perfume, made him hard. How easy it would be to brush aside those cushions and pull her into his arms and…and what?
He ground his teeth. Where the hell had that thought come from? There was only one reason he agreed to let her stay, and that was to make her uncomfortable, show her how it felt to be an outsider. Like she had done to him in school.
The last thing he wanted or needed was to feel anything for her, even if it was just pure sexual need. He tried to push the thought from of his head, but found it far from easy.
Eventually he drifted to sleep, and when he woke in the morning, he knew he was alone even before his leg inched across to the other side of the bed to find it empty and cold. He rolled over and slapped a hand on his bedside clock.
“Eight-twenty-five a.m.,” the mechanical voice announced.
Cole bolted upright with a start. He’d overslept. At this time of year, he was usually working in the field by six-thirty.
And where was Anthea? Why was she up so early? Didn’t divas sleep until midday?
He discovered that she wasn’t anywhere in the house, so he made breakfast and found himself worrying that she might have left. A crazy thought if there ever was one.
When he headed to the fields, he paced the driveway until he came across her car—still parked in front of the house. An unusual reaction washed through him. Relief. There really was something wrong with him. Shouldn’t he have only felt relieved if she’d left?
But maybe, he tried to convince himself, he was just looking forward to having a little fun getting even with her and didn’t want to miss out on it now that he already had a few ideas to make her squirm.
Yeah, that was it. Absolutely.
* * *
Anthea jogged through the huge forest of trees behind the house, music from her iPod blasting into her ears as she tried to remember the last time she had exercised outside. Quite a long time ago—it was far too difficult since people recognized her. In fact, it was impossible to do any sort of activity in public without being stopped every five seconds by someone wanting an autograph or photo. At first it had been exhilarating to be sought after like that, but it hadn’t taken long to wear off. She knew it was simply part of her chosen career and a testament to the fact that she had succeeded, but until she lost her privacy, she hadn’t realized just how precious it was.
Like this forest. She pulled to a stop and leaned against one of the smooth, tall tree trunks while she caught her breath.
Wanting to get some exercise in before it became too hot, she’d risen at seven-thirty without disturbing Cole. Choosing the massive plantation behind the house had been a no-brainer when she’d seen how dark the forest was beneath the thick canopy of leaves. At first, that was all she noticed while she ran. Alone, her new insecurities and doubts arose. No one, not even her brother, had any faith in her ability to play a serious role.
But as she leaned against the tree trunk, the world she inhabited suddenly became more real than her own problems. Removing the earphones, she turned off the iPod. For the first time, she really looked at the forest.
Stray streaks of sunlight streamed down into the shade through gaps in the leaves high above. The sunbeams illuminated floating motes of dust.
Anthea pushed off the tree trunk and took a few steps toward a shaft of light, reached out and caught it on her palm. Its warmth seemed to travel from her hand all the way through her body. When had she ever been able to hold a beam of sunlight in her hand in the concrete jungle she lived in? Never.
Without the music from the iPod in her ears, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it must be like for Cole out here. Sounds she hadn’t noticed before came to her all at once. Birds chirped in the treetops. Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. She even heard the hurried beat of a small bird’s wings as it flitted from branch to branch.
In awe, she tilted her face toward the canopy above and simply stood still, letting nature wash over her, letting herself accept how small and insignificant she was in the whole scheme of things.
By the time she returned to the house, Cole was already in the field. Even so, she showered and washed herself in a frenzy to keep under the two-minute rule—which only seemed to apply to one particular person. In the spare room, she slipped on a fresh summer dress and reached for her makeup bag.
In the bathroom, she removed a bottle of foundation, but when she caught her reflection in the mirror, she paused. Did she really need to apply this gunk? Not having her skin clogged with all those chemicals felt refreshing and natural. She stared into the mirror and decided that a farmer’s wife wouldn’t wear makeup unless she had to go into town. And even if Cole could see, she didn’t feel like putting on a mask.
Tossing the foundation in the makeup bag on the counter, Anthea walked barefoot through the house and stepped onto the veranda. In the field, Cole dug in the earth, then retrieved a sapling from the wheelbarrow. She really should get out there. After all, she’d promised to help, and manual labor was part of her research.
Glancing at her bare feet, she considered wearing her sneakers, but knew the soft earth would work its way inside and fill them with dirt. And they were almost brand new. Turning toward the house, she noticed a pair of gumboots standing at attention beside the door.
Thumping the gumboots heels on the decking, she upended them and shook vigorously to dislodge any nasty surprises before easing her feet inside. They were far too big, but would have to do.
A soft breeze rippled her summer dress against her skin and lifted her damp hair, making her feel cool and alive, but as she clomped down the steps and into the field, the blaring sun engulfed her in a heat wave.
Trying to ignore the discomfort, she plodded toward Cole, glad he couldn’t see the sight she must look in a designer dress and gumboots.
He straightened as she drew close.
“Where’d you take off to at the crack of dawn?”
“Running,” she said.
“You’ll get a better workout doing this.”
She looked over her shoulder and watched the tall forest behind the house sway in the breeze. “The trees… I didn’t realize how beautiful they were until I was surrounded by them. You must wish you could see them.”
“Nope.”
She frowned as he speared the shovel into the earth.
“Well that’s just crazy. Who wouldn’t want to see all this? It’s amazing.”
He stopped digging. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing in this world worth seeing.” Raising the shovel, he forced it into the earth with a stroke more powerful than necessary.
What, she wondered, did that mean? Had he witnessed something so awful that it made him glad he couldn’t see the beauty the world had to offer?
Studying him, she noticed the tightness in his jaw, how the muscles bunched in his arms when he hauled a shovel full of earth from a hole. So strong, yet something inside was wounded. She felt an unsettling urge to take the shovel from his hands, wrap her arms around him and hold him.
“What’re the trees called?” she asked instead.
“Paulownias.”
Meg sat beside her, nuzzled her hand. Absently, she stroked the dog’s head.
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Not many people have. Chinese have been growing them for centuries. It’s an ancient tradition. When a daughter’s born, they plant a Paulownia, and by the time she’s ready to marry, the tree provides a dowry.”
“That sounds romantic.”
Cole shrugged. “Anyway, furniture and building materials are always in demand. My grandfather started growing the Paulownias not long after I was born, and I’ve kept growing them ever since. Provides a pretty decent livin
g.”
“But it must take forever for them to grow big enough.”
Cole pointed to the plantation on the other side of his driveway where the Paulownias stood about ten feet tall on trunks about the same thickness as her arm.
“They’re about nine months older than this lot,” he said.
She scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
Cole grabbed a sapling, turned his back to her. “Whether you believe me or not, that’s how long they’ve been in the ground.”
“How would I know whether or not to believe you when you won’t even look at me?”
“What for?” he asked. “I can’t see you, so what’s it matter?”
Cole placed the sapling in the ground and expertly surrounded it with the loose earth he’d already dug from the hole. He patted the soil around its thin trunk with a gentleness she hadn’t noticed before.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It might not matter to you, but it matters to me. And I know you can’t really see me, but you can look in my general direction, at least face me.”
“You’re trying to teach me manners?”
He rose and moved toward the wheelbarrow with a grin on his face. Grabbing the shovel, he took a few steps in her direction and purposely looked the other way.
“Here,” he said.
Oh, he thought he was so funny. Well, if he couldn’t look at her when he spoke, then she wasn’t going to help.
“I don’t have any clothes for this,” she said.
Cole lowered the shovel, his smile widening. “Yeah, you do. They’re on my bed. So don’t think for a second you’re getting out of doing some good old hard work.”
Chapter Seven
Anthea hated to admit it, but Cole was right about her trying to avoid hard work. She hated getting dirty, which was a ridiculous, spoiled-brat, princess attitude. If she was serious about the role of The Farmer’s Wife, she had to suck it up and get on with the farmwork. And she would. Right after lunch. That ought to wipe that smug grin off his face.
