I stared at him.
He blinked, confused. Then he said, “Istayhere.”
“Over my dead body,” I retorted, and then winced because that wasnotthe best choice of words. “Leave or—or I’ll call the very nice fire department!”
He blinked again at that and finally took in the state of the cottage. The kettle on the stove. The shoes by the door. The panties drying on the clothes rack over the sink. The cold TVdinner at the table. His surprised anger quickly fell into realization. “Oh.Oh, right,” he murmured, his gaze settling on me again, as if I were the odd thing here. “You’re the head gardener, aren’t you.”
“And you aretrespassing,” I stated firmly.
He held up his hands and took a step back. Then another. All the way out of the cottage. Then he dropped his duffel on the porch and went to retrieve my Magic 8 Ball. “Sorry … I usually stay here when I’m home. This thing’s pretty heavy,” he added, hefting the black orb.
I eyed him skeptically.
He held out my Magic 8 Ball. “I’m really sorry. Lala didn’t tell me she put you up back here.”
“Lala …? Oh.” Everything clicked then. “Oh!” Eulahadsaid that people stayed in this cottage sometimes. “You’re one of her great-nephews.”
“The good one,” he supplied as I took the Magic 8 Ball back. “Usually.”
“Says the man who just broke into my cottage.”
“Is it really breaking in if I have a key …?”
I narrowed my eyes, and he realized his mistake.
“Right, sorry,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I—can we start over?”
“No, no, this is going great,” I replied. My words dripped with sarcasm.
He winced. “I’m Oliver, and most days I’m not nearly this rude.” He offered his hand to shake. “Hi.”
I looked at his hand first, and then up to his face. His eyes were the color of melty caramel, the light from my kitchen catching gently in the blond five o’clock shadow, and his warmsmile melted my suspicions of him pretty readily. Oliver—as in Eula’s great-nephew Oliver. I guess that meant he probably wouldn’t murder me. He just wasn’t here often enough to know I’d been here for a month already. So I took his hand to shake it. His fingers were soft and strong. I knew mine were hard and calloused, and I wondered what he thought of that. Then I wondered why I wondered. I didn’t wonder. I wasn’t wondering at all.
Silly, I chastised myself.
“I’m Sophie Drear,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure,” he greeted me. His eyes flickered across my face, lingering so long it began to make me blush, and then he let go of my hand. “I came here as soon as I heard that Lala had sent herself home.”
I inclined my head. “And decided to retire?” I studied his face, watching it shift with amusement.
“You’re sharp, Sophie.”
“Just observant,” I replied, hugging the Magic 8 Ball to my stomach. I didn’t really feel very much like being kind, especially not after he barged into my cottage unannounced. Besides . . . “Is Eula expecting you?”
“What do you think?” He winked. “No wonder Lala hired you. Nice pajamas, by the way,” he added as he grabbed up his duffel. “I like the ducks.”
I glanced down at myself, remembering my attire—worn duck-printed pajama shirt and shorts—and blushed with embarrassment. They really didn’t leave anything to the imagination, not like therewasmuch. I awkwardly folded my arms over my chest. “Thanks . . .”
“Good night, Sophie Drear,” he called as he retreated into the rain again, and back toward the house.
I watched him go. What a strange man. Then I inspected my Magic 8 Ball to make sure it was all right. The die inside bobbed up and down.SIGNS POINT TO YES.
I scowled at it.
“No. Absolutely not,” I told it, and waited until he was but a shadow over the Moon Bridge, and then I closed the door, locked it just in case, and went to bed.
11
