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My heart sank. He was usually so polished and sharp, but from here, now that I was looking closer, he looked defeated. I guess that earful from his mother hurt him more than he’d let on.
Instead of taking my treats back to my room so I could shower and get some work done, I stayed. For some reason, I had a nagging urge to make him feel better.
“Hey!” I said with mock indignation. “Do not talk about my fake boyfriend like that. I have decent taste. You could at least try to live up to my standards, even if this is fake.” I popped the bite into my mouth and smiled.
His eyes danced at that. This man could not resist the opportunity to banter. “You have high standards?” He shook his head. “Sorry. I was remembering your tatted up bodyguard.”
“That’s Tex, and we’re friends.”
“Really? Because the way he looked at you made him look like a lost puppy, which was really disturbing, considering the rest of him looks like a murderous felon.”
“First of all, he’s a gentle giant. Don’t let the tats fool you. And second, we had a brief fling. We weren’t compatible. But he’s a good, kind, decent human who has been an excellent friend. So stop being such a judgmental ass.”
“Hmm. So that’s your type? Burly guys who look like felons?” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounded a little jealous.
“I’m not superficial, unlike some people. I’m more interested in personality and character than looks. And his character is top-notch. You should be so lucky as to be compared to Tex.”
Now he was pissing me off. What had started as an attempt to cheer him up had devolved into a conversation I was not prepared for. “In your world, being shiny and perfect is a currency. But down here on Planet Earth, where the regular folk live, who you are as a person is more important than how much money you make or your stock portfolio.”
He cocked his head and inspected me without speaking. It was unnerving. “You really think I’m that bad?” he asked softly.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few days, but already, it’s obvious that you’re miserable.”
“Because I’m stuck here.”
“Oh, please. You’re not stuck,” I said, wandering closer to where he sat. “That’s the story you tell yourself. If you wanted to go back to Portland, your family would be fine.”
He narrowed his eyes, and that hint of vulnerability evaporated. “You don’t understand. We’re getting the business back on track.”
“I’m sure they can do it. Or they could hire someone. Hell, you could consult remotely. You’re the number cruncher, right? These biceps don’t cut down the trees.” I squeezed his arm.
Damn, it was thick and strong. He flexed, the shameless asshole, and my face went hot.
I should have stepped away. Unhanded him and preserved my dignity, but instead my fingers lingered, unable to separate from him.
“These biceps do just fine,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
I avoided his eye and finally took a step back, putting some space between us. “Those are gym biceps,” I teased, rounding the island so I was a safe distance away from his muscles. “Those are not lumberjack biceps.”
His eyes flashed as he stood and pulled himself up to his full height. “Are you saying I’m not a lumberjack?”
“You have an MBA, you drive a Beamer, and you create excel spreadsheets for fun. You are many wonderful things, but a lumberjack you are certainly not.”
He glowered, though the angry mask couldn’t hide the hurt. My words cut him deeply. “You really know how to hit a guy. Sorry to disappoint you, Nancy Drew, but I come from a long line of lumberjacks. It’s in my damn DNA.” He puffed up his chest, and I was embarrassed about how much I liked it. “I’m the CFO of a multigenerational timber company, and I compete in lumberjack competitions, for Christ’s sake.”
“I thought that was Remy?”
“Remy is going pro, but every one of us has competed since we were kids. I can climb trees and chop wood and throw axes, babe. And while I enjoy the gym, most of my workouts these days are in the woods with my brothers. We run and chop and train with Remy to keep him motivated. He needs reminding that he’s the runt of the litter.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say about your little brother.”
“You didn’t grow up in a family full of feral wilderness kids.”
Fair enough. I was an only child caught between an abusive parent and his victim, desperate for siblings to commiserate with.
Was it wrong that I liked him like this? All riled up and defending his manhood?
Maybe it was the years-long dry spell or the loneliness of the woods getting to me, but I was finding it harder and harder to deny my attraction to my fake boyfriend.
