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I turn to face him. “And what image is that?”
“Badass mountain man,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
At this, I can’t help but grin.
“I thought you said you were charming. Now you’re a badass?” I tilt my head.
“Can’t I be both?”
My eyes again flicker to the photos.
“My mother lived here with me for a while, and I gave her free rein to do whatever she wanted to do at the house. It made her happy.”
“Well, it looks amazing in here,” I tell him as I again look around. And it really does. Cream colors and rustic dark wood. If I had to describe everything I’ve seen, from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, I would call it chic farmhouse. It’s then I see tiny flickers just outside the window.
“Wait, are those fireflies?” I move closer to the window and peer outside. Briggs moves to stand behind me, glances out, and then he looks down at me like I have three heads.
“Yes. Have you not seen any since you’ve been here?”
I’m a little stunned by his nearness and overwhelmed by not only his size but also the way he smells. It’s a mixture of sandalwood, bergamot, and cinnamon apples. He smells a little like his orchard, and that fits him perfectly.
“No, I haven’t.”
Silently, we watch them float just above the ground and around the shrubs. The heat from his body envelops mine, and I seem to soak up every pheromone he gives off. I’ve always thought he was kind of good-looking, but how I feel now borders on dangerous.
I can not be attracted to my neighbor.
After a moment, he steps away, and my body sags in relief.
“That surprises me because they are all along the back edge of your property. With your evening escapes to the blackberry bushes, I’m surprised you haven’t seen them.”
“I haven’t been back outside at night, and it didn’t even occur to me to look for them.”
“Goldie, they are everywhere. Even if you were to sit in that fancy rocking chair on your front porch, you should have seen them.”
He’s teasing and mocking me at the same time. I might have spent a little money on them, but in the cooler months, I plan to put them to good use, and I wanted comfortable chairs that will last.
“Well, now I’m sad that I haven’t, and how do you know what my rocking chairs look like?”
He smirks, and then it dawns on me that he was at my house when he threw out the corn.
“Season is over too. I’m surprised these are even still here. Mostly, they are here in May, June, and the beginning of July. And I just do.”
“Maybe there aren’t as many in my backyard as you say there are, seeing as I moved in at the end of July.”
“Maybe,” he mutters with a shrug, but he’s clearly just pacifying me.
And for reasons like this, I have to remember that he’s a frenemy.
Turning away from him, I look back out the window to see if I can spot any more of the little flickers of light.
“Just wait until May,” he says.
“What happens in May?”
“The blue ghost fireflies make an appearance.”
“What are blue ghost fireflies?” I turn to look at him. He’s intrigued me, and the smirk on his face lets me know he knows it.
