Page 54 of The Only Time

I have to look away, afraid I might just fall in love with her right here.

She turns around and grabs our plates then brings them to the island. We sit there and have a nice, casual breakfast. I ask more about her company, learning about all of the traveling she has done over the years. She has been to Italy more times than I could have ever dreamed. There’s no way my work would allow me to be gone for long enough to do a trip to Europe.

It’s incredible that she has been able to accomplish this success at such a young age with her brothers. And it sounds like they all love what they do.

After we eat, I insist on doing the dishes so she can go take a shower. Eventually, we end up walking back to my barn. The walk back to it is silent, but I feel at peace for the first time in ages.

Once we get into the barn, I turn on the light and the familiar feeling that washes over me whenever I step in hits me. Everything feels simple and easy in here.

I know that when I get to work, my mind will settle in ways that it can’t anywhere else in my life, minus when I spend time with Mia, and that’s a terrifying realization.

I follow her around as she looks at everything I have in here. I’ve sold some items to random people online, but I am constantly working in here, so I have an entire wall filled with my work.

Her hands slide gently over my art as she studies everything. I can’t take my eyes off of her. The way she purses her lips while she thinks, how her eyes open wider when she likes something, I’m drawn to every movement.

“You really are talented. Why aren’t you doing this for a living?” she asks as she continues down the line.

“It’s not a career. It’s a hobby.”

“Who said woodworking isn’t a career? There’s plenty of people who do this for a living.”

I kick the dirt below me as I avoid looking at her. “People would think I’m crazy if I left my career to do something that pays less, like a lot less.”

“Why do you care what people think? Isn’t it more important for you to be happy?” she says like it’s so simple.

“Who said I wasn’t happy? You’ve known me for a couple of weeks. If you’re implying that I’m not happy,” I reply, slightly annoyed that she is seeing right through the walls I put up.

“Forget I said anything,” she says quickly. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know why she thinks I’m not happy. So, I don’t wake up every day excited to go to work, but—does anybody? It’s called being an adult. We can’t all love our job and make the kind of money that she makes. She’s living in a fantasy world if she thinks that happiness in a career should be everyone’s goal.

“Okay. I think I know what I want you to make me,” she stops and faces me with a smile.

In an instant, I forget that I’m mad at her. I raise my eyebrows. “What would you like?”

“I want a porch swing like the one you have on your front porch. I’ve been too afraid to sit on yours because there’s no wall behind it, and I keep picturing my ex in the bushes, but I would love one for my house.”

My jaw tightens as she tells me about her latest fear. Just the thought of anyone making her feel afraid sparks a fire in my chest. I hate that her ex has any kind of hold on her.

“A porch swing it is,” I say through my unyielding anger in hopes to distract her from her fear. “Let’s go pick out the wood and stain you want.”

Later that day, I’m sitting in my office trying to catch up on some work when I get a text message from my mom reminding me that we are having a family dinner at my parents’ house tonight.

The first thing I think is that I don’t want Mia spending the evening alone, but that’s not all of it. I don’t want to spend the evening away from her.

I stand up out of my chair and find her reading a book in the reading room I have upstairs.

“Reading anything interesting?” I ask as I lean against the door frame with my hands tucked into my pockets.

She looks up at me as a hint of red stains her cheeks. “Probably nothing you would be interested in.”

Now, I’m curious. I push off the frame and sit on the side of the lounge chair that she’s lying in. I grab the book from her hands and start to read. My eyebrows shoot up when I read the words, a bit taken aback.

“Why Miss Giannelli,” my voice mutters deeply, “these are some dirty words.”

She worries her lip which makes my dick slightly hard knowing what those lips can do. “I’ve never read a book quite this—graphic before.”

“Oh really? Might I ask what has inspired this upgrade in your smut reading?” I ask as I hand the book back to her.

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