Page 24 of His Pretty Little Duet

"Oh." My voice is too high to not be completely obvious. "Who the gardeners?"

Smooth.

A clammer of noise comes from above us, the sound of serious voices sailing down the stone steps to where I lay by the poolside. Sitting up immediately, not feeling comfortable half-naked on my stomach in someone else's house unless that someone else isn't around, I watch as Clay and a film crew head down the steps. Beside him, a tall, elegant, red-headed woman in a sheer navy suit-dress is deep in discussion with him. She reads from a clipboard in an almost informative way, while he nods as they navigate the garden to the other side of the pool. The camera crew trails them, seamlessly checking their equipment before they all stop and the crew begins to set up.

I peer over at Jasmine, who sits on the other sunbed, just as interested as I am in what is taking place. "Are they filming something?"

"He is probably doing a press release. Maybe something has happened." She tugs her phone out from her bag. She swipes her finger along the black display, bringing the screen to life and begins searching the internet. She hums before saying, "Yep. There's a fire. Looks big too. We had one a few years back, and I volunteered to help with the animals. Ya know, koalas and things." She suddenly cracks up, bracing her phone tightly as she rolls forward a little with the spasm of her laughter. "The headline is calling him 'The District Daddy.'"

Brushing my long straight blonde hair over my shoulder, the ends tickling my lower back, I scoot in beside her. Sharing her lounger, the sides of our bodies press together so I can peer at her phone.

At the sight of Clay on the screen, a little awe spirals within me.He really is a politician...And I've never had anyone to admire before. This warmth in my chest definitely feels like admiration. That explains my mild obsession. It's just admiration.Good.I'm glad that's sorted out.

She reads from the display, nudging me slightly and talking in a hushed tone. "Daddy Butcher has called for all citizens on the north side of Stormy River to evacuate, but the state government won't sanction such a drastic move, saying it's too early, and will affect the trade through the Stormy River docks." She makes a face, her smile tight with a suppressed giggle. "He wants to wrap us in cotton wool. I guess that's why they are calling him daddy."

A scorching hot sensation rolls up my spine, causing my gaze to lift, finding Clay staring at me from across the garden.

We lock eyes.

It's. Just. Admiration.

The redhead is straightening his tie, the glossy curve of her lips moving, but his attention roams the length of me, hispiercing blue stare sliding down my body for what feels like an entire heady minute.

I part my lips under his gaze, feeling the heat of sparks within me, the heat building every second his eyes?—

Then he snaps his head towards the gardeners as though he sensed them. They both drop their line of sight but not soon enough, having caught him watching me. Their unease is noticeable even from this distance.

Clay Butcher looks on with a subtle smile that is more menacing than nice.Like he's angry, but what about?

When his gaze finds me again. The blacks of his eyes have widened, the darkness he carries within them like a shadow consuming the piercing blue that makes him so beautiful to look at, unmasking a different kind of raw, virile beauty that is even harder to tear my eyes away from.

I hold my breath, but then his devastating gaze dissolves as he looks at the redhead before him, nodding as though she had his attention the entire time.

I breathe out in a rush.

What was that?

Clearing my throat, the entire column arid and thick, I force a smile even though nerves skip through the gaps between all the butterflies and the kid in my stomach. "I don't think we should be out here while they're filming, right?"

When I peer across my shoulder at Jasmine again, she is fixed on me, stone-faced with uncertainty. I chew my bottom lip, not grasping what that was or what she saw or thought she saw.Fuck.The entire silent interaction between me andClay Butcherwas probably in my head. The intensity between Clay and the gardeners, too. All my body's manifestation of some kind of meaningless crush.

No, Fawn.

Not a crush.

Admiration.

It's just admiration. The first person to impress me has scrambled my brain, jumbling the appropriate response. So, he didn’t look condescending for a moment but instead looked... irritated, possessive, protective, I don't know!

No big deal.

"Ah, okay," Jasmine mutters, snapping me from my thoughts and standing with the menu in her hand. "Let's get this to the kitchen then. Maggie will want it."

I head up the steps, flanking Jasmine. Each rise of my thighs, each steady placement of my bare feet, seem intensely exaggerated. He wasn't looking at me when I left, but, boy, can I feel his eyes on me now.

The thick air circles my scantily dressed physique like the cloak I wish I had on, a veil for the blaze of my vulnerability.

My skin prickles, but I don't turn around despite the palpable tug on my body to do so.

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