Page 43 of Somewhere You Belong

I shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, though. Why don’t you come over and help me a few days with stuff, let her see that you’re not a bad guy and you care about the work being done right. Not that I can’t handle it, but you get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I hear you. And truth is, I wouldn’t trust anyone but you to work on that house.”

His mouth drops open as he slams his palm to his chest, mockingly. “A compliment? From you? You must not be feeling well,” he chides.

“Don’t make me fire you.”

As my mind whirls with ideas, something sparks, and Penn sees it on my face.

“Uh oh. Does the look on your face mean the light bulb finally clicked on in your brain?”

I nod and flip him the bird at the same time. “Yup. If this woman wants her ass kissed, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Just use protection,” he mutters as he walks away.

But I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. I’ve got work to do.

Chapter nine

Willow

Yet another morning where the sight of the sun rising from my balcony is making the thought of leaving this place behind even harder to imagine.

I bring my cup of coffee to my lips, blowing steam off the top before taking a sip and smacking my lips in approval. I’ve never been much of a morning person, but waking up to this every day is quickly changing that.

Folding my feet underneath me, I take a seat in the rocking chair now perched on my balcony thanks to Dallas.

Unfortunately, sleep has evaded me lately as my mind and body have been stirring with thoughts of that man, the man that is just as good-looking as he is infuriating.

I wish I didn’t care to know more about him. I wish he didn’t pop up at the most inopportune times. And I wish his little act of kindness of putting this chair together didn’t make me want to lower my defenses just a tad.

But it does.

And I’m still struggling with why.

As the waves crash up onto the beach, I watch a flock of seagulls fly overhead, a few of them landing in the sand in front of my house. And as I watch them, my eyes catch sight of something that has me standing up from my chair, entirely perplexed in an instant.

“What the hell?”

I march through the sliding door, down the stairs, and out the front door as fast as my feet will carry me, walking right up to the figure that has my jaw dropping open instantly.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Astonished laughter escapes my lips as I stare at the scarecrow standing in front of the house. I mean, I guess you could classify it as a scarecrow, so we’ll go with that description.

But the goal ofthisscarecrow is to deter geese.

Placed strategically in the ground on a rather substantial stake is a painted figure that resembles a woman with her blonde hair in a bun sitting low on her neck. A straw hat covers her head, and dark blue coveralls adorn her body. In one hand is a martini glass, and in the other is a sign that says,No geese, PLEASE!I laugh at the emphasis on “please.”

There’s only one person who could have come up with this, giving me yet another reason not to truly hate him—although I’m not sure my mind or body ever really got that message to begin with.

***

“Thank you again for inviting me.” I turn toward Astrid, who is busy slathering her son with sunscreen while I watch her daughter play at the shoreline, where the water kisses the sand.

“Of course. I’m glad you came. After you left, I worried whether the invite was too forward.” She shakes her head. “I forget that we barely know each other, so I may have come off a little too friendly and overenthusiastic at the idea of making a friend.”

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