His tired eyes narrowed. “Of course you did.”
“What are we working on?” I asked while fingering my hair to help it dry. Just because one was living in a barn didn’t mean one had to look like one was living in a barn. A little scrunch added lift. I leaned over his shoulder, smelling the barn wafting off his clothing.
“Nothing.” He exited the program—which I only got a peek at, but it appeared to be his email. “Don’t be trying to get into my personal stuff.”
I drew back as if slapped. “I am not going to get into your personal stuff. What kind of man do you think I am?!”
“The kind that talks poor folks into selling off their rights so you can taint the land and the planet.”
I gasped. He stood up and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, that was uncalled for.” I gave the photo on the desk a long look. Acosta looked so happy in that image. What had changed him? He was now so miserable and off-putting. It was as if two Acosta Melios’ were living on the same plane of existence. One Acosta was obviously in love with that delicate woman, and the other was obviously not. I scanned the picture more closely and saw no bands on their fingers, but vows didn’t mean he hadn’t cared for her greatly. Lots of people never marry. A wedding is not a guarantee of a happily ever after. Just ask my parents. Who were both spending this Christmas being adulterers.
I sighed. That was why I planned to never wed. Live with yes. Marry? Nope. Feeling sad and beaten down, I shuffled to the kitchen to try to find something to eat. I nosed around in a tall cabinet beside the old fridge.
There were jars and jars of honey in the cupboards as well as little Mason jars filled with homemade jams and jellies. Canned veggies such as green beans, beets, carrots, tomatoes, corn, and fruits like blackberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, and strawberries. My belly rumbled. The quick cheese sandwich we’d scarfed down at lunchtime was long gone.
I pulled out the honey and a jar of carrots and then dug out a pot and began fixing some honeyed carrots for dinner. In the fridge, I dug around for some meat but found none.
“What are you looking for?” Acosta asked from behind me. I squeaked in fright, leaping up and back out of the fridge to scowl at him. The scowl quickly melted away as my gaze roamed over wet Acosta. He was naked from the waist up but given that he was wearing gray sweatpants—Lord thank you for inventing fleece—he might have well been naked. The outline of his rather girthy cock was plain to see. I jerked my lecherous sight from his dick to his chest, which was nearly as delicious. Ruddy little nipples were pert and tight in a chest that was lightly dusted with just a few dark hairs that grew thicker as his treasure trail led downward to the drawstring of his pants. Fuck but he was lean and luscious. I wet my lips, cock plumping up as my sight flickered to his mouth. Such a fine set of lips. Perfect for kissing.
Women. Kissing women. Remember the photo on the desk? He’s into women. We are not a women. We are a men. Get your shit together. This is a business trip.
Right. Yes. Business. Impressing Dad. Getting that pat on the head that little Decker so desperately wanted but never got. Oh yes, I was aware. All those thousands spent on therapy over the past twenty-six years did teach me a few things.
“Something to serve with the carrots.” My voice sounded strained. “Do you have any ground beef thawed, or maybe some hot dogs? Oh, or some chicken? We could slice it into strips and—”
“I don’t eat meat.”
Well of course he didn’t. My internal sigh was huge. “Ah well that’s awesome. Sure, I can see that seeing as how you work to save animals from the slaughterhouse.” He nodded just once then nudged me aside to withdraw a package of tofu from the back of the old Amana. “Oh cool!” Yay. Bean curds. Yum. “Do we make them, err that, into patties?”
“Yes, we do.”
I let him do that while I forced my eyes to stay locked on the pot of carrots bubbling away nicely on the stove. Acosta moved in next to me a moment or two later, carefully placing two patties on a griddle, then cranking up the fire. His bare arm brushed mine as we cooked in silence. Each brush of skin on skin made me twitchy and edgy. Which was unfortunate because when I got edgy, I tended to—
“So, I was once in a French restaurant when I was younger. Oh gosh, I was probably ten at the most.” I stirred the carrots with a wooden spoon I’d plucked from a crock on the counter. The sweet smell of honey and carrots wafted upward, mixing nicely with the aroma of frying bean curds smothered with garlic powder, pepper, salt, and onion flakes. Did the tofu need so much spice to make it edible, or was Acosta just a spicy sort of guy? “It was my older brother’s birthday. He was fourteen. Frank Jr., that’s my older brother, wanted to go to Miami Beach to our summer home and do Disney, but Dad hated Disney in the summer and Mom was off on a writing seminar.”
“What kind of books does your mother write?” He asked to be polite, I was sure.
“Oh, she doesn’t write.” I felt his quizzical gaze on me, and I peeked to the left. Yep, those gorgeous stormy eyes were staring at me. “She was probably with Adrastus. Back then, they pretended they were doing other things when they were screwing around. Now that Frank and I are adults, they don’t pretend anymore.”
His slim eyebrows beetled. “Wait.” He flipped the “burgers” and then looked at me in confusion. “Are you saying that your parents have been cheating on each other since you were a kid?”
“Oh yeah, they’re totally in hate with each other. But there’s old family, and old family money, as well as ironclad prenups involved, so they stay married.”
“Fuck.” He gaped at me for several long moments, which was fine because I could appreciate the flecks of dark gold in those smoky depths. “I’m…that’s really sad.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it is, but it’s how it is. Anyway, we were at this French restaurant with Dad celebrating Frank Jr.’s big day when the waiter brought this appetizer dish filled with odd and funny shaped little tidbits. One was ground goat meatballs topped with feta cheese. Oh, my God, it wassogood.” I threw a quick look at Bitsy as she nibbled on the Christmas tree. “Although now that I’ve slept with a goat, I’m not sure I could eat one.” I paused, thought for a second, and then peeked at Acosta. “Did that sound really bad?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, making a sound that was maybe possibly a begrudging laugh. Hearing that snorty sound made me all tingly inside. For purely professional reasons, of course. “So, was that why you told that story? Just to get to meatballs?”
“Yeah, mostly. Frank Jr. threw a fit in the restaurant when he couldn’t get pizza. Dad got pissed and sent us home with the limo driver, Preston, who was really nice.”
“Your father just sent you home with the driver?” Again, he sounded stunned.
“Preston had been with the family for ages. Mom trusted him nearly as much as she did Nanny Annie.” I fished a carrot out of the pot and blew on it. Acosta just stood there staring at me as if he had never heard of such a thing before. “Preston hauled us all over the place when the parental units were busy, which was all the time. But, hey, goat meatballs are yummy, but I am now goat meat free. No chevon for me from this day forth!” I took a bite of the carrot, sucking air in around it as it rested on my tongue. “Ow, oh, hot! Oh nice, they have that little snap to them yet now. I don’t like mushy carrots.”
“Hmm.” That was his reply. A hum. I offered him a carrot from the pot. He shook his head, his damp hair falling into his face, making him even sexier. Ugh, I really should have jerked off in the shower. Tomorrow for sure. “What about all the other animals?”
