“I voted them off the island,” I reply dryly, then almost trip as he laughs, sending shivers down my spine.
He leans in and whispers, “I liked them.”
I shrug and follow Seth to the kitchen. “I didn’t.”
Josh’s home is spacious; the floor plan is open from the living area right inside the front door through to the eat-in kitchen with its maple cabinets the color of honey and smooth, light granite countertops. The windows are wide and I can see all over the property from inside the main room.
I immediately feel at home here, despite the obvious bachelor-pad feel to it. Large, brown leather couches face a floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace with a flat-screen TV mounted above it. Fishing, hunting, and men’s-health magazines are scattered on the coffee table, along with an empty coffee mug. Not a throw pillow or knickknack to be found anywhere.
Typical guy.
Seth pulls a chair away from the table and plops down in it, resting his head on his folded arms.
“Seth, sit up.” Josh is exasperated and Seth just sinks deeper into his slouch.
“I think we’re good to go.” I grin at Josh but he scowls.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, we’re good. You get to work and leave us be so we can too.”
I turn my back on him, dismissing him, and begin pulling worksheets, pens, and a book out of my bag.
“I’ll be working nearby today, so just call my cell if you need me.”
“Fine.” I wave him off, not looking over at him. I sense him still standing behind me. Finally I turn and raise an eyebrow. “You’re still here.”
He’s watching me carefully, leaning against the countertop, his rough hands tucked in his pockets. My eyes are drawn to his biceps, straining against the sleeves of his tee. “You got really pushy.”
“I’m a teacher. It’s either be pushy or die a long, slow death. Now go. We have work to do today.”
“You’ll have lunch with us before you go.” Josh pushes himself away from the counter and saunters to the front door, grabs an old, faded-green baseball cap, and settles it backward on his head. “I’m pushy too.”
He grins and that dimple winks at me before he leaves the house, shutting the door behind him.
Good God, I will not be able to focus if he doesn’t leave us be while I’m here.
“You ready to get to work?” I ask Seth, thumbing through my writing worksheets until I find the one I want.
“This is a waste of time,” he grumbles.
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugs again and buries his face in his arms.
“Well, I don’t consider it a waste of time. What’s your favorite subject?”
No answer.
“Least favorite?”
No answer.
“I personally like math, but I always sucked at it.”
Seth shifts his head slightly and one eye peeks at me.
“Are you good at math?” I ask him.
“It’s easy.”
“Not for me.” I sigh.
“But you’re a teacher.” Seth finally sits up and frowns at me.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at everything. Teachers aren’t superhuman or anything.”
“I can do math.”
“Okay, let’s start there.”
Seth eyes me for a minute and then shrugs. It seems shrugging is his favorite form of communication.
“Are you really going to stay and have lunch?”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I pass him the math worksheet.
“No, I don’t care.” He picks up a pencil and starts marking the sheet, digging right in, and I grin.
“Does the food suck?”
“No, Gram packs us a lunch every day.”
“Well then, I’ll stay.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile—yet somehow I think I just won a big battle.
* * *
“So, looks like fried chicken and potato salad, homemade rolls, and fruit.” Josh pulls the last of the food out of the ice chest and passes Seth a Coke.
“Your mom goes all out.”
“She’s been making lunch for ranch hands for almost forty years. It’s habit.”
We’re sitting on Josh’s back patio. It’s partially covered, with a hanging swing on one side and a picnic table on the other and looks out over a large meadow where cattle are grazing.
“Do you get a lot of deer back here?” I ask.
He nods and swallows. “Usually in the evening and very early mornings. A moose walked through last week.”
“That was cool,” Seth murmurs, and Josh looks up in surprise.
Does Seth never talk to him?
“Yeah, it was,” Josh agrees softly.
“Do you fish?” Seth asks me as he takes a big bite out of a chicken breast, sending golden pieces of fried batter down the front of his shirt. His dark hair is a bit too long and falls over one eye. I grin at him. He’s adorable.
“No. I hate fishing.”
“How can you hate to fish?!” Seth exclaims, as if I’d just admitted to hating ice cream.
“It’s dirty.” I wrinkle my nose and Josh bursts out laughing.
“Everything here is dirty, sweetheart.” Josh shakes his head and nudges me lightly with his elbow.
He’s such a flirt!
“But you live in Montana!” Seth exclaims, examining me as if I were a science project, his chicken momentarily forgotten.
He leans in and whispers, “I liked them.”
I shrug and follow Seth to the kitchen. “I didn’t.”
Josh’s home is spacious; the floor plan is open from the living area right inside the front door through to the eat-in kitchen with its maple cabinets the color of honey and smooth, light granite countertops. The windows are wide and I can see all over the property from inside the main room.
I immediately feel at home here, despite the obvious bachelor-pad feel to it. Large, brown leather couches face a floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace with a flat-screen TV mounted above it. Fishing, hunting, and men’s-health magazines are scattered on the coffee table, along with an empty coffee mug. Not a throw pillow or knickknack to be found anywhere.
Typical guy.
Seth pulls a chair away from the table and plops down in it, resting his head on his folded arms.
“Seth, sit up.” Josh is exasperated and Seth just sinks deeper into his slouch.
“I think we’re good to go.” I grin at Josh but he scowls.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, we’re good. You get to work and leave us be so we can too.”
I turn my back on him, dismissing him, and begin pulling worksheets, pens, and a book out of my bag.
“I’ll be working nearby today, so just call my cell if you need me.”
“Fine.” I wave him off, not looking over at him. I sense him still standing behind me. Finally I turn and raise an eyebrow. “You’re still here.”
He’s watching me carefully, leaning against the countertop, his rough hands tucked in his pockets. My eyes are drawn to his biceps, straining against the sleeves of his tee. “You got really pushy.”
“I’m a teacher. It’s either be pushy or die a long, slow death. Now go. We have work to do today.”
“You’ll have lunch with us before you go.” Josh pushes himself away from the counter and saunters to the front door, grabs an old, faded-green baseball cap, and settles it backward on his head. “I’m pushy too.”
He grins and that dimple winks at me before he leaves the house, shutting the door behind him.
Good God, I will not be able to focus if he doesn’t leave us be while I’m here.
“You ready to get to work?” I ask Seth, thumbing through my writing worksheets until I find the one I want.
“This is a waste of time,” he grumbles.
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugs again and buries his face in his arms.
“Well, I don’t consider it a waste of time. What’s your favorite subject?”
No answer.
“Least favorite?”
No answer.
“I personally like math, but I always sucked at it.”
Seth shifts his head slightly and one eye peeks at me.
“Are you good at math?” I ask him.
“It’s easy.”
“Not for me.” I sigh.
“But you’re a teacher.” Seth finally sits up and frowns at me.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at everything. Teachers aren’t superhuman or anything.”
“I can do math.”
“Okay, let’s start there.”
Seth eyes me for a minute and then shrugs. It seems shrugging is his favorite form of communication.
“Are you really going to stay and have lunch?”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I pass him the math worksheet.
“No, I don’t care.” He picks up a pencil and starts marking the sheet, digging right in, and I grin.
“Does the food suck?”
“No, Gram packs us a lunch every day.”
“Well then, I’ll stay.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile—yet somehow I think I just won a big battle.
* * *
“So, looks like fried chicken and potato salad, homemade rolls, and fruit.” Josh pulls the last of the food out of the ice chest and passes Seth a Coke.
“Your mom goes all out.”
“She’s been making lunch for ranch hands for almost forty years. It’s habit.”
We’re sitting on Josh’s back patio. It’s partially covered, with a hanging swing on one side and a picnic table on the other and looks out over a large meadow where cattle are grazing.
“Do you get a lot of deer back here?” I ask.
He nods and swallows. “Usually in the evening and very early mornings. A moose walked through last week.”
“That was cool,” Seth murmurs, and Josh looks up in surprise.
Does Seth never talk to him?
“Yeah, it was,” Josh agrees softly.
“Do you fish?” Seth asks me as he takes a big bite out of a chicken breast, sending golden pieces of fried batter down the front of his shirt. His dark hair is a bit too long and falls over one eye. I grin at him. He’s adorable.
“No. I hate fishing.”
“How can you hate to fish?!” Seth exclaims, as if I’d just admitted to hating ice cream.
“It’s dirty.” I wrinkle my nose and Josh bursts out laughing.
“Everything here is dirty, sweetheart.” Josh shakes his head and nudges me lightly with his elbow.
He’s such a flirt!
“But you live in Montana!” Seth exclaims, examining me as if I were a science project, his chicken momentarily forgotten.
