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“Yes. I can see that,” she sniped back, and I felt a warm flicker of amusement unfurl.
She released the door and I caught it, stepping in closer while she pulled the top four logs off the stack, tossing them back into the pile. She still grunted under its weight, but she got it off the ground.“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
She turned, a fine sheen of sweat glistening across her forehead, hair a riot of curls.“What? You’re not going to offer to carry it for me?”
Oh yeah, definitely still pissed at me. Like an angry little kitten.
I attempted to mould my features, going for lightly chastised, when all I really wanted to do was laugh. I came over here dreading what was to come, and within two minutes in her presence, I felt the rope unravelling itself from my chest.“Why would I do that when you’re perfectly capable of carrying it yourself,” I said, when in truth, I was dying to snatch it from her grasp. I didn’t know much about women, but instinct warned me April was a woman who hated being made to feel incapable.
Still straining under its weight, she squinted at me. The right answer, I realised, but I gave it too easily. She wanted to argue. Pushing my expression into the most neutral position possible, I stared steadily back at her. Not tonight, princess. I’m here to make it up to you.
After a beat, she pushed past me and I trailed her to the door, my eyes once again falling to her behind in the soft grey shorts she’d changed into. Knowing I was a bossy, moody son of a bitch didn’t mean I fell into controlling, alpha-male bullshit. She wanted to carry the heavy basket, she could carry the damn basket.
Taking the steps ahead of me, she balanced the load on a raised knee, attempting to reach for the door handle with one hand. Logs clacked against the rim, rolling precariously. Perhaps I wasn’t as evolved as I thought, because that’s where I drew the line. Okay, new plan, she can do what she wants, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand back and watch her injure herself out of pure stubbornness. Darting around her, I grasped the door handle before she could.“Glare all you want, princess, I can take it.”
She only looked at me, moss-ringed eyes tracing over every one of my features until she reached my scar. I squirmed. She breezed by like I hadn’t spoken.
What did that mean? Did she want me to follow? For a brief second, I considered calling Heather to ask her advice, nixing it just as quickly. An adult male asking his wee sister for female advice would carry me over a line I wasn’t yet desperate enough to cross.
Inside the kitchen, Boy greeted me with an excited yowl, a sound more cat than dog as he dove from his spot on the sofa to press into my hands. I gave his chin a good scratch, a part of me relaxing with him back at my side.
Like any good double act, Dudley followed, dancing around my feet as though I hadn’t ignored his presence for weeks. Rearing back determinedly on his hind legs, his singular front paw scooped at the air. I admired his determination, making it the only reason I bent down to give his wiry chest a scratch. When he licked the back of my hand, I didn’t stop him, but I did frown at April’s back where she unloaded logs into the wood box beside the fireplace.“I don’t let Boy onto the furniture,” I said.
She snorted.“He looked pretty at home up there for a dog‘not allowed’on the furniture.”
Of course he did, the wee shit doesn’t listen to a thing I say.
“Like any animal doing something it shouldn’t,” I pointed out, not sure why I was pushing it.
She kept unloading the logs, slim fingers stacking them three high.“You should loosen up a little, Malcolm. Animals chafe under strict rules, they are always going to break them.”
She would say that. A“little hellion,” Kier used to call her, always sneaking out of the manor at night, drinking when she shouldn’t. She pushed at any rule placed upon her.“Some people thrive within barriers,” I grunted out.
“Or do they simply feel more comfortable within the confines? Surviving and thriving is not the same thing.”
We were no longer talking about animals. Bloody hell, this was not why I came here.“Thanks for the free therapy, I’ll be sure to point the dozens of failed therapists I’ve visited in your direction.”
She didn’t even flinch, not at the heat in my voice or the admission that I was—have been—in therapy. I wasn’t ashamed of it exactly, ashamed it didn’t work was closer to the truth, but I didn’t like people knowing my business. No one but my mother knew about the therapy, and that was only because she’d set up every appointment.
“You’re doing that wrong,” I finally snapped, sick of the silence and tired of watching her pile the logs in the grate that way.“You’re never going to get it to light.”
“I googled it, it seems—”
“You googled how to light a fire?” I shook my head, striding closer to kneel beside her.“Didn’t Kier teach you anything?”
“Apparently not,” she snarled right back at me, thrusting a log against my chest. I ignored the sensation of her little fist burning through my layers of clothes, and how I felt it in every molecule of my body. I had to be bloody starving for human contact if something as small as that could make my heart pound.
I pressed her hand back.“Do it yourself, I’ll teach you.” She paused at the offer and I knew she was about to turn it down.“Come on, princess,” I taunted, letting the words hum.“Do you want to come running to me every time it gets cold? You’re in Scotland now, there’s a lot of chilly nights in your future.” I kind of loved that idea, April windblown at my door, begging me to help her. I set the thought aside for later and focused on her little scowl. She was doing that a lot tonight.
“I didn’t come running.”
“You would have in about thirty minutes when the bloody thing didn’t light.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
No, she wouldn’t have, she’d have suffered in silence. That knowledge didn’t sit well.
“I’m teaching you. No arguments.” I focused back on the barren fireplace.“Remove the logs.” She complied without argument.“Now, you want to start with a little paper, there should be some old newspapers in that box.” I nodded to the small wooden chest between the log burner and the television stand.“Get some of the kindling, those are the smaller pieces of wood, and the matches.”
