into a bitter bitch. I’m too young to be hard and cynical.
"Let me show you around.”
“Lead the way.” Again, his lips quirk into a delicious curve. And internally, I curse his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. A weaker woman would be disarmed by all that ‘pretty’ but I’m sufficiently acquainted with his rancid personality to not be impressed by the man's charm.
I walk him through the living room, dining room and kitchen, pointing out obvious features. “I’ll clean out a section of the fridge for you.”
I pull open the refrigerator door for demonstration purposes and he leans forward to peer inside. “Hell, that's a whole lot of vegetables." He turns up his nose like a kid.
I glare at the side of his head. “Vegetables are good for you.”
He ignores my comment and mutters. “And I guess that explains the smell."
My brows crinkle over narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?"
"Nothing." He straightens and hobbles away from me to open the snack pantry. He groans when he doesn’t find anything to his liking.
Rolling my eyes, I follow after him. "Here are a couple empty cabinets, if you need.”
He nods and continues limping around the room.
I open the backdoor to show my petulant tenant the outdoor space. I gaze out at the part of the property I’m most in love with.
Late-afternoon sunrays dance through the strong, old trees that dot my lush yard. Beyond the vast lawn, tulips, daylilies and California poppies line the fence. Moonflower vines climb the rustic trellis. The vegetable patch is nearly bursting with tomatoes and sweet peppers. Investing my energy into this garden has helped me keep my sanity over the past few months and I’m justifiably proud at how it’s turned out.
"It's beautiful out here," he remarks, gaze moving over the picturesque landscape.
"Yeah."
"You planted all those flowers?"
I fight off the smile budding at the admiration in his tone. “Uh-huh. I did,” I say, breaking eye contact and spinning to stare out over the yard.
When Kirk and I first moved into the house, I imagined kids rolling around and laughing in that thick, green grass. A bite of agony spasms my chest. I may not miss my ex-husband, but I do miss the hopes and plans of my previous life. I exhale hard, dispersing those unwanted thoughts.
"My niece, Callie, would have a field day out here.” He’s standing way too close, looking right at me. His own smile curves his lips. This one isn’t brash or conceited. It’s genuine. Soft. And very counterproductive to the walls I’m trying to build against him. “Do you mind if I bring her by sometime?”
I blink at the question and take a step back. It’s definitely not something I’d ever expected this man to say.
“Not at all,” I tell him. “There’s lots of room to play. The tree swing is broken, though.”
That smile is in his voice again, wrapping around his words. "It should be an easy fix. I'll take care of it.”
I nod and turn back around.
He's standing right there, inches from me.
I dare to glance up into his dark eyes. Again, his male beauty strikes me like a blow. I mean, he's alarmingly pretty.
I see something brewing in his intrusive eyes. He’s going to ask about my marriage. About Kirk. About my divorce from his best friend.
If he asks, I’m prepared to tell him what a shithead he has for a friend.
I can almost see the questions at the tip of his tongue…
Then, he looks away without a word.
Of course he does. Because Jude Kingston only thinks about himself. He doesn’t care about some lonely, moneyless divorcée he used to know way back when.
Besides, I’m sure Kirk already gave his friend his version of events. Jude probably threw a whole Mardi Gras-style parade when he found out Kirk left me. Beads, boobs, the whole nine yards. I bet they both had a good laugh at me and the pitiful mess of a life I have now.
The thought stings sharper than it should.
Screw them.
Feeling oafish, I drop my gaze from his in search of something else to focus on but now, my attention is on his mouth. His plush, inviting mouth.
Averting my eyes again, I find myself staring at his chest. I silently consider taking up rock-climbing.
Oh, crap. Get it together, Iris.
Mentally, I forbid my gaze from dipping any lower. Because while I’m pretty sure that in my periphery, I can make out a subtle imprint at the crotch of his gray sweats, there’s no way I’m getting caught ‘sizing up’ this man’s package.