Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
He raised an amused eyebrow. “You know, it kind of turns me on when you call me that in such a sarcastic tone.”
“You pervert,” I shot back, directing the front of the trolley down the aisle with the watering cans. “How generously are you going to compensate me for destroying my beloved watering can?”
“Your beloved watering can?” He smirked, leaning over with his forearms resting on the trolley handle. “You weren’t very bothered about how beloved it was when I broke it after I was balls—”
“La la la la la,” I sang, drowning his words out. “Have you no decorum at all? Are you really a member of the upper class? What kind of duke goes around running such a filthy mouth in public?”
“This one.” He grinned.
I narrowed my eyes. “Will you stop?”
“Absolutely not. I enjoy seeing you blush, princess. Knowing I’m getting under your skin brings me far too much joy.”
Oh, the urge to seek out a trowel and stab him with it was almost overtaking me.
Almost.
“I’m not blushing,” I muttered, turning away so he couldn’t see my absolutely not-blushing cheeks.
Jesus.
I could not let myself get this flustered. Not when it was only yesterday that I met his mother and resolved to end whatever this weird flirtation was between us.
Because, really, I was right.
In the end, I would be the one to get hurt here, no matter what. I was going to hurt when the allotments closed, and I saw no need to add an extra helping of romantic heartbreak on top of that pain.
So, this had to end.
After this visit, when he’d replaced my damn watering can and I’d successfully extorted gardening supplies for toddlers out of him, I would tell him.
That this, whatever it was between us, had to stop.
And I really, really hated that there was a pang in my chest at the thought of it.
“Rose? Are you choosing a can, or should we move on?”
I shook myself out of my thoughts before I spiralled into a place that I feared I couldn’t come back from. “Shh, I’m weighing up my options.”
“Jesus Christ, I knew better than to bring you here.” He hung his head with a groan, and I laughed at his dramatics.
That was totally on him.
He really should have known better.
Yet, here we were.
After a careful process that involved an awful lot of fake watering and passing each one between my hands, I selected the best watering can and put it in the trolley. The next forty minutes mostly consisted of me flitting about the place, putting things in and out of the trolley, all the while glancing at Oliver to see when he would tell me to stop.
He never did.
He simply watched me, his blue eyes glinting with amusement, and his lips twitching up to one side every now and then. Yet our eyes never met, almost as if he were trying to hide the fact he was watching me. His silent, almost reserved observations as I happily buzzed about from shelf to shelf seemed to tingle across my skin with the weirdest mix of comfort and discomfort I’d ever experienced.
Comfort because this felt normal. Like it was something we did every day. I could almost imagine this happening again and again—in this garden centre, in a clothing store, in the middle of a grocery store. Me, a never-ending ball of energy, and him, a calmer, more grounding presence.
And the discomfort.
Because it was so comfortable. Because it didn’t feel like something that shouldn’t be happening. Because it was something I was enjoying, something I wanted to happen, something I really could see happening in the future.
It was yet another reminder that this… whatever this was… had to end.
Before I woke up tomorrow morning dreaming about sending our kids to university or some shit.
“Okay, done.” I wiped my hands together and grinned at him. “What do you need?”
Oliver looked at the full trolley between us. “Nothing that’ll fit in here until we’ve loaded this in your van.”
“Oh, so now Ramona is good enough for you. I see how it is.” I sniffed.
“Don’t be so grumpy.” He turned the trolley and reached for me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I squeaked as he pulled me against him, and he pressed his mouth against my hair, quietly laughing.
“What are you doing? Are you trying to ruin my reputation?” I shrugged out of his hold and darted to the end of the trolley, out of his grabbing range.
“Is there anything left of your reputation to ruin, princess?”
“If you call me that again, I swear I will swing for you.”
“You’re not giving me a reason not to.” He grinned, steering the trolley as I guided it towards the registers. “The more annoyed you are by it, the more likely I am to use it.”
“You’re so lucky we’re away from anything that could viably be used as a weapon,” I muttered.