“Sure.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response.
My shoes hit the porch with just enough stomp to feel satisfying. The screen door creaked as I stepped inside, the cool air and smell of cinnamon welcoming me back like the world hadn’t just thrown me into yet another accidental run-in with a man who looked at me like I’d personally ruined his vacation.
Ben Jensen was the kind of sexy that should come with a warning label or a liability waiver. Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like he’d spent the last decade chopping firewood shirtless in slow motion. His scowl alone could start a thunderstorm, and don’t even get me started on the way his flannel sleeves hugged his forearms. It was criminal, really. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying. Just existing, breathing,standing there, and my brain short-circuited like a toaster in a rainstorm. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, but apparently Ididbelieve in wildly inappropriate hallway fantasies.
I was halfway to the front hallway when I nearly collided with my mom.
She had a laundry basket full of sheets balanced on one hip and a knowing smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.
“Someone’s marching,” she said. “That usually means you’ve encountered a grumpy guest, an escaped chicken, or a shortage of clean dish towels.”
I raised a hand. “Option one.”
“Ah,” she said, setting the basket on a bench. “Mr. Jensen again?”
“Don’t even get me started.”
“Too late.”
I sighed. “He’s just… impossible. And somehow more attractive when he’s difficult, which isveryinconvenient for my whole personality.”
She chuckled, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear like I was still twelve. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Mr. Jensen, grump or not, happened to ask about you early this morning.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
She tilted her head. “Mm-hmm. Said something about whether you were working today. I told him you usually don’t rest until you’ve personally fluffed every pillow and interrogated each towel for softness.”
Before Sienna set me up. Interesting.
I laughed, stunned. “That’s… a surprise. Considering he shoots darts at me with his gaze.”
Mom shrugged. “Sometimes darts are just misplaced attention.”
“Or laser beams of disapproval.”
She patted my arm. “Sweetheart, men like that, they don’t know what todowith people like you.”
I snorted. “You mean people who talk too much and fall into duck ponds?”
“I mean, people who shine. You make noise. You laugh. You connect. That can be terrifying to someone who’s spent a long time convincing himself he’s safer alone with dulled emotions.”
I bit my lip because she wasn’t wrong, but still...
“Whatever’s going on with him, it’s none of my business,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “But if he thinks he’s going to win the Sad Sack Olympics while he’s undermyroof, he’s in for a rude awakening.”
She smiled. “There’s the daughter I raised.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I added, adjusting my damp shirt and smoothing my hair, “I have a grumpy man to accidentally bump into while pretending it’s completely coincidental.”
“Don’t forget to smile like it’s not personal.”
“Oh, it’sabsolutelypersonal.”
I marched off, half-infuriated, half-something else I didn’t want to name.
Because here’s the thing…
