Page 6 of Silver Brewer

“Well, good morning to you, too,” I say, cheerfully, trying my best not to cower under his pinched glare.

Be brave. Be strong. I repeat the chant Marcus sang before ending our phone call the previous night.

As I look up at Giant, his presence says he’s a million times stronger than me, and it’s more than his physique. His body language screams command and control, and I briefly wonder what it would be like to have that energy focused on me. My breasts tingle as my breathing labors. My core clenches, and I force my knees together.

“I brought you a coffee,” I say, realizing my fingers shake as I reach for the second cup sitting next to my hip and lift it toward him.

Looking off in the distance, he crosses his arms over his massive chest, displaying those bulging biceps once again. His stature says he’s trying to shut me out. He’s dressed in a flannel today, covering the awesome body underneath the clothing. Too bad. But then again, from my vantage point, I’m eye level with another area of him, and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes upward. I’m suddenly thinking about the size of his property and the lay of his land. The width. The girth. The length. Damn Marcus for his innuendos.

“You’d have to do better than a cup of coffee to butter me up.” For a moment, I want to believe he’s teasing me. Did his voice lower? Is he holding back a laugh? What would a deep chuckle sound like from a man of his size? How much would it rock my world if he gave his laughter to me?

“Yeah, and what would a woman have to do to butter your biscuit?” I joke, fully aware I mean myself and fully aware he has no interest in me. As a woman. As a human being. In fact, when he turns his head back in my direction, I’m convinced he thinks I’m an alien, and he’s ready to report me to the Department of Defense for unidentified objects.

“Do you know anything about these woods?” he asks, surprising me as his face softens and his voice dips. I know the specs of the area. The property survey reports it’s a nice chunk. We’re hopeful of securing the woods on either side of this place to offer a decent spread of land to our prospective investor. I’m ready to spew all the particulars, but the way he holds my gaze tells me he’s asking me something else, something deeper, and I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for his question.

“Why don’t you tell me about them?” I pat a hand on the decking of the porch where I’ve made myself comfortable. It is comfortable, I note. Quiet. Pretty. The view before me isn’t too bad either.

He harrumphs and gazes away from me for another second. His arms remain crossed, but his shoulders slump, and I’m almost disappointed. I like our little game, and I don’t want him to give in to me too easily.

What am I thinking? I curse myself. Of course, I want him to make this as easy as possible. Just look into my eyes and give me what I want. I will the energy out into the universe and almost fall back when his eyes immediately return to mine. The dark chocolaty orbs have turned midnight, and a spark flares in them.

Oh no, I think without knowing what I’m oh-no-ing about.

“Want my land so badly?” he begins, and I’m about to interject, giving away my desperation for this sliver of space, but he continues. “What do you even know about this land?”

“I—” He holds up a hand to cut me off before I can even form a thought.

“Have you ever spent a night under the stars? Or bathed in a stream? Have you seen a bear cub with its mother? Or what about hiking in the peacefulness of nature, listening to the birds sing?

“I…” This time, my voice fades, and I don’t know how to respond to him. “I went to Girl Scout camp when I was ten.”

He stares at me as if I’ve just told him I can speak Martian.

“Before you try to steal my land, perhaps you should learn a thing or two about it.”

I stare up at him as his expression turns virile.

“I know this piece of property could earn you millions.” I look beyond him, taking in the small bit of landscape I can see around his broad hips and crossed arms.

“I told you, I don’t want the money.” He scoffs. “I’m talking about dirt under your toes. Wind in your face. Stars in your eyes.” His eyes nearly dance as though he has undisclosed information he’s waiting to share with me, and strangely, I want to know his secret. And though dirt under my toes doesn’t sound pleasant, it doesn’t sound terrible either.

Still.

Tell me. Tell me all your wisdom and woes. I swallow with the intensity of his glare and rub a hand down the thigh of my jeans.

“Okay, so I’m not Pocahontas. How would I learn?” My voice cracks, sounding meek. Teach me, Yoda.

“From the land.” He pauses. His crossed arms bulge before me and lift with the heave of his frustrated inhale. What would those arms feel like around me?

“And your land will just teach me?” Oh God. Did my voice just drop? Did I exaggerate your land, implying something other than the greenery around us? Damn Marcus and his damnable innuendos, but if this man means I can hike his landscape, I volunteer as tribute. “How?”

“Camping.”

“What?” I stammer. My mouth falls open.

“Camping. Three nights of roughing it and then I’ll think about your proposition. You break before that and no deal.”

My proposition? Did I proposition him? Can he see the images racing through my mind? I want to do all kinds of things to him, starting with the body part closest to me. My heart races, and my sweaty palms…sweat more. My breath catches.