Page 29 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“Couldn’t sleep.” He winks. “I had an idea you might try to mow this morning, and the anticipation kept me up all night.”

This time it’s me who crosses my arms. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“Never said you weren’t. Just that I wanted to watch.”

A thousand needle points prick my skin at once, followed by a hot flash of self-admonishment. Truett Parker may be a flirt, but that doesn’t mean he’s flirting with me. Nor should I want him to be.

A tiny, indulgent part of me revels in it anyway.

I drop my arms and sweep one hand in the direction of the mower. “It won’t start.”

“I saw that.” He scans me from head to toe, the brim of his hat shielding his face from my view for a long, merciful moment that helps me get my bearings. “And you were planning to mow in flip-flops? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

I glance down at my feet, where his gaze has settled, and wiggle my exposed toes. “They’re all I have. Kinda ruined my other ones last week, remember?”

We look up at the same time, our gazes meeting in the middle.

“You only brought two pairs of shoes?”

“One. Roberta got these for me afterward.” I shrug. “I’ve got a few more coming in the mail from home, though.”

He removes his hat and runs a hand through his dirty blond hair, then over his face, before dropping his hand. “You’re never gonna get that mower to start. It doesn’t work.”

I kick the tire, frowning. “Why not?”

He goes on as though he didn’t hear me. “And besides, it’d take you forever to mow this lawn with that thing. Do you remember how long your dad would be out here?”

“A few hours.”

“Exactly.” He replaces his hat and points to his riding mower. “I’ll teach you to use the zero-turn if you want. It’ll make your life a lot easier.”

I quirk a brow. “You’d do that?”

“Sure I would. I said I wanted to watch, not that I had all day to do it.” He turns and climbs onto the mower. Once seated, he pats his lap. “Come on. I’ll take you for a spin.”

An uncomfortable feeling settles in my gut. Gratitude alongside wariness. The knowledge that I need to keep him at a distance, as well as the desire to get closer. Remnants of an old crush, I reason. I’m an adult now. I can be around him—can even be attracted to him—without mistakenly believing it’s more than that.

Right?

“Unless you wanna cut it by hand?” He narrows his gaze. “In which case, I’m sure Henry’s got a pair of scissors that should work.”

I scowl but step forward, taking his offered hand to climb on board.

He grabs my hips to situate me farther back on his lap. When my gaze darts to his, he raises his eyebrows. “I have to have space for the handlebars to close.” He grabs the bars and pulls them together in front of us, demonstrating his point. “Is this okay?”

I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak.

“Great. I’m just gonna take you for a quick tutorial today, because I can’t in good conscience let you mow in open-toed shoes. But this way you’ll know how to do it, and next week I can drop the mower off for you to use whenever you want it. Deal?”

It takes more effort than I’d like to admit to say, “Deal.”

“Great.” He flashes a wide smile. “So you have to have the handlebars closed to go anywhere. They’re currently in a neutral position, which is why we’re standing still. To move, you push them forward.” He retrieves my hands from my lap and places them in the right position, then covers them with his own. “Like this.”

We lurch forward, which throws me against him. I can already feel his strong thighs beneath my own, the firm plane of his abdomen against my lower back. But now I’m flush against his chest. My hands are covered by his. Every nerve ending in my body is standing at attention, desperate for the sensation of Truett’s touch.

It was hard enough to remain focused when we were two innocent teenagers and my greatest fantasy was running my fingers through his hair. Turns out, with a little more knowledge under my belt, I’m having a very hard time watching his hands flex over mine without picturing them slipping beneath my waistband, down, down until they are buried inside me…

“Did you hear me, Delilah?”

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