I can think of a million and two reasons. But the first and most important is that I’m miserably attracted to Annie and need to stay as far away from her as possible over the next month. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since last night. I even dreamed about her.
Damn that dream.
I absolutely can’t get involved with her. Not only because she’s Amelia’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, but because Annie represents everything I avoid. Commitment. Relationship. Longevity. My brain sees her and superimposes a big Nope! sign above her head. Absolutely not.
“Because,” I say, wishing that was enough of an answer. “Have you never seen the movies like this? The woman always has to do a bunch of shit she doesn’t like to do, like go to places that make her uncomfortable, change her style, and step outside of her normal world. And then, by the end of the movie, the guy falls in love with her and everything gets complicated. No, it sounds like a terrible idea. Not to mention I’m opposed to the whole love thing. I don’t want a relationship with anyone ever—and why are you smiling at me like that?”
Her blue eyes are sparkling with dangerous ideas. “Oh my gosh. Amelia is right. You are perfect for the job.”
I stare incredulously at her. “Were you even listening just now?”
“Yes, and I heard a man who’s very qualified to be a dating coach.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I’m not doing it.”
“But what if I promise I won’t fall in love with you?” she says as if that’s a flattering option. “You’re not the kind of guy I’m looking for anyway.”
“Wow. I feel great now. Thank you.”
“Come on, Will! It’s perfect.”
“Annie…” Instinctively I take a step back, but she follows. I’ve never felt hunted more than I do at this moment. I wish I couldn’t say I don’t like it.
“Wildon, please be my tutor.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh while skirting around her. A minute ago I was the one holding all the power, and somehow she flipped the script and has me crossing to the complete opposite side of the shop to escape her. “Why do you need a tutor so badly?”
“Because I’d really like to get married before I’m eighty, and my last date was a disaster.”
“It couldn’t have been a disaster.”
“A disaster,” she repeats firmly, with eyes wide open. “Remember how he left at the beginning of the date? Before that I overheard him on the phone tell his friend that I was unbelievably boring. Too dull to hook up with.”
Rage swiftly and furiously sweeps over me. “What a dick. Tell me his name. I’m going to—”
“He didn’t mean for me to overhear it,” Annie says, sticking up for a man who doesn’t deserve it. “And the fact is, he wasn’t wrong. I thought back on the date, and…I really was boring. I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. I need help learning how to be fun on dates.”
But as I look at Annie’s flushed face and sparkling eyes, her words still don’t sit right. She shouldn’t have to change herself.
I lean closer. “If any jackass thinks you’re boring, that’s his problem, not yours.”
She looks away. “You only say that because you’ve never been called boring, or dull, or wholesome. One look at you and everyone knows you’re the antithesis of those words. But me—I need some help or I’m never going to find someone. I need a coach.”
The longer I stare at Annie, the more I itch to destroy the man who made her doubt herself. “No. Absolutely not. You deserve more than the kind of guy you went out with, and I’d die on this hill. You’ll find someone who sees you for who you really are.”
Annie completely disregards my thoughtful monologue.
“Ugh. Please, Will!” she asks in an over-the-top beg that makes me have to smother a grin.
“No.”
She props her hand on her hip. “Are you worried you’re going to fall in love with me?”
“Nope, I’m not.”
“Well, then, we don’t have any issues!”
“You’re not listening to me. I have issues because I don’t want any part of this plan. It’s a bad idea to change yourself.” And even more, I don’t want to see any part of Annie change. Not a single thing. I’ve never met anyone like her before—and it would be a damn shame for her to morph into some popular social construct of what a woman should be like on dates. I hate it. If some jackass doesn’t take the time to peel back her layers of nervousness to find out who she really is, he doesn’t deserve to have her when she’s at her most comfortable.
Annie follows me across the room—holding her letter in front of her like she’s gathering signatures for a petition. “I wouldn’t be changing myself. I’d just be getting more comfortable being myself on dates. Plus maybe a little changing here and there as needed.”
“I would rather wax off my eyebrows completely.”
“Rude.”
Without thinking, I place my hands on Annie’s shoulders. The shock of her soft warm skin against my rough palms momentarily sets me off-kilter. A hum of desire pulses through me so strong and sudden that I have to pull my hands back. Further evidence that I cannot be some sort of dating tutor for her. Fantasies are built on that kind of shit.
“I’m not doing it,” I say firmly. Final. End of story.
Annie’s shoulders sink, and I feel bad for letting her down. But still—I won’t be a part of the reason she’s not Annie anymore.
“Fine,” she says, stiffening into a more stubborn pose. “Then I’ll just have to hire someone else to do it.” She turns and starts walking back toward where I assume her storeroom is located.
“Like who?” I follow her.
She rounds the worktable, and I go around the opposite side until we meet in the middle. She cuts her eyes to directly look into mine. “Someone.” She blinks twice. “Someone good at being sexy who can help me be sexy too.” Two more blinks. “Maybe a male escort.”
I whistle quietly. “A male escort? No way is Annie Walker going bad. Are you going to pay extra for the sex too?”
Her eyes flare ever so slightly, but then her chin lifts. “Absolutely I’m going to pay extra for the…sex.” She drops her voice to a whisper on the last word, making me laugh.
“I gotta see this. Promise me you’ll bring him around once you’ve hired him?”
“Oh, I doubt I will,” Annie says as she heads into the storeroom. I follow again and then stop abruptly in the doorway when, faster than I expected, she surfaces holding a small bouquet of prearranged flowers. We’re standing together, bookended by either side of the doorway. “We’ll be too busy for me to bring him by with him teaching me all kinds of things.”
I narrow my eyes and tip forward to lean my hand on the doorframe over her shoulder. “Just to clarify and make sure I understand the whole picture. You’re saying you’ll be too busy with your male escort?”
“Yes, with my…” She briefly glances at my forearm beside her head and then weakly finishes her sentence, “male escort.”
“Because he’ll be teaching you all sorts of things. Sexual things I’m assuming, but correct me if I’m wrong.”
Her nostrils flare and she sucks in a fortifying breath. It’s too much fun to mess with her. There’s no way Annie is any kind of serious. She’s just trying to ignite some sort of protective instinct in me, hoping that I’ll agree to be her coach.
“Probably. I mean, yes. Definitely lots and lots of…” she swallows, “sexy times on the horizon.”
“Wow, that’s going to be great. You’ll have a blast,” I say, enjoying this taunting way too much before noticing Annie’s eyes drop to my lips. And just like that, she steals the entire show again. All of my thunder is gone and I can’t think straight with her eyes fixed on my mouth like that.
I try to hold still because I know she’s thinking about kissing me right now, and I can’t let her. I want to—oh God, I want to—but I can’t. Every single one of my skin cells ache for me to step forward and press our bodies together. But I can’t do that because I’m scared what will become of me if I do.
But neither of us steps away, and somehow the knuckles of my free hand brush against hers. Her fingers respond and lightly move against mine. Our fingers never intertwine; we just let our skin brush a controlled fire against the other. How is this the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me? And now, to hell with it, I have to kiss her. No, I have to do more than kiss her—I need to press her against this doorframe and feel our bodies collide.
She lifts her face and I lower my head and—
Outside the shop, a car door slams and makes both of us jolt, heads whirling guiltily toward the shop window.
“Oh, it’s James,” she says breathily. “He’s coming by for this bouquet.” The one she’s clutching to her chest with the hand that wasn’t just torturing mine. “He called and ordered it this morning.”
I nod absently—my lazy movement matching her lazy tone because we’re both stuck in a sensuous, unrelieved haze. My arm is still resting behind Annie as I turn my eyes to watch James round the large white truck with the logo for Huxley Farm on the side. From everything Amelia has told me, he owns the farm now after it became too much for his parents. Apparently, he’s Noah’s best friend and has pretty much grown up with the Walker siblings. I assume he’s like a brother to them.
Or maybe he isn’t…
“Oh wow,” Annie says, also watching James but sounding less hazy by the second. “He’s wearing a suit!”
Yeah, he is. And even I can admit the man looks good. It’s a nice suit that’s accentuating his farmer’s body. He’s tall, muscular, tan. And even more important, when I look down at Annie, she’s looking at him like she’s never seen him before. My pulse jumps angrily. Possessively.
She steps away from me to go to the counter as James opens the door to the shop.
“James, hi!” she says in a cheery tone, while setting the bouquet on the counter and pulling out a piece of brown paper to wrap around it. The weird part is, she never even looks at what her hands are doing. She’s staring at James the entire time. Not necessarily like she wants him—but like she’s contemplating him.
Shit. I’m afraid I know what’s happening now.
“Morning, Annie! Thanks for having this ready for me.” This man has Town Golden Boy written all over him. The dazzling smile. The open face. The twinkle in his eye of a person who’s never been jaded by the world. Irrationally, I hate him.
“You look amazing,” Annie says with way too much emphasis, if you ask me. “Where are you going?” Her fingers work to delicately wrap twine around the brown paper—and all I can think about is how those fingers felt moving softly against mine. What they’d feel like dancing across my chest. Clutching at my back.
“With Mom to a wedding for one of my cousins.”
“Your dad okay?” she asks, sweetness and concern coating her tone.
What’s it like to have someone like Annie worry about you? I doubt James even appreciates what he has.
He chuckles lightly. “If you count stubbornly refusing to go to the wedding because it has a black-tie dress code and Mom won’t let him wear his John Deere hat, then, yes—he’s fine. I, however, am going to be miserable all afternoon after being guilt-tripped into going.”
“And yet you’re still taking her a bouquet of flowers. What a guy,” she says with a soft chuckle. “But you’ll have a great time. I’ve seen you on the dance floor, and I know you’ll have all the ladies lined up by the end of the night.”
James laughs again, and their camaraderie is making me feel a little ill.
“We’ll see,” James says before winking at Annie in a blatantly Matthew McConaughey kind of way. And now I want to run him over with his own truck.
Am I jealous? No, I’m never jealous. You can’t have a series of no-strings-attached hookups with women for your entire adult life and be the jealous type. It’s impossible. And yet, as I see Annie eyeing James in an assessing way and coming to some sort of conclusion, I realize I am absolutely jealous.
“Hey, James?” she begins thoughtfully. “I have sort of a random question to ask you. And feel free to say no, but would you—”
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly, cutting Annie off.
She whips her head in my direction and stares up at me. “You will? But you just said—”
“I know. I changed my mind. I want to do it.” She blinks and smiles up at me, and my heart fills with something that feels like lava. “But I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
I grin. “I get to walk out of here today with your book.”
“My book?” she asks, hoping she heard me wrong.
“The book.” I smile as I watch two pink splotches hit the apples of her cheeks.
For a beat, there’s nothing but silence. Painful, thick silence. And then slowly Annie’s sweet smile tilts ever so slightly into a devious grin, and I realize I just got epically played. “You’ve got a deal, bodyguard.”
“Executive protection agent.”
James clears his throat. “Why do I feel like I just missed out on an important opportunity?”
Because you did. Now, get lost, she’s mine.
