Page 46 of Almost True
He ducked his head under a section of the vine and simply said, “Of course.”
Warmth spread through me at his response, and I had to stop myself from sighing. I liked him so much it was stupid. His answer shouldn’t be something to make me gooey, and yet here I stood, rapidly melting at the way he just said yes. Not, “Are you sure you want to get your hands dirty?” or “No, not from you, Maddie,” or “I’m about done but you can have a seat and talk with me.”
He didn’t put me off or set me aside. He drew me in. And while on one hand, it didn’t make sense that this proved so alluring to me, on the other, it did. People catered to me so much it got silly. They also always had ideas about what I should or shouldn’t be doing with my time, my hands, my body, my face, my business.
But Aidan? Other than that initial rough patch after discovering who I was, he took me as I came. He’d done a remarkable job of treating me like… me. Like someone he was getting to know and not someone who was a foregone conclusion based on the media portrayal or network.
Wasn’t that what I liked so much about our first meeting? To him, I’d simply been Maddie, a woman on a work trip who’d only lifted her head for a few hours before she’d left. I didn’t need anyone to tell me I’d burnt out on work and overextended myself. Whether that would’ve happened at the same time without the stalker, I couldn’t say, but it would’ve at some point. Because when I met Aidan, I’d already been feeling the strain. Meeting him, then Nate’s wedding, and all mixed with the gauntlet of book press… each day that the stalker element came to a close allowed me to see just how quickly I’d been hurtling toward burnout even without the added specter of someone following me.
Here with Aidan, that seemed to melt away. I wasn’t on a pedestal, and I wasn’t excluded. I was in the dirt, so to speak, and it felt better than I could’ve imagined.
“Just hold here. That’s actually—perfect.”
His fingers grazed over mine as he twisted and tucked and did things I couldn’t see while I held a formerly droopy part up. I tried not to let that fleeting contact affect me, but I was only human and I’d kissed him last night. Some insane flurry of boldness in me had given me the guts to press a quick, soft kiss to him after all those nice things he’d said.
I wasn’t someone who needed flattery, but again, he’d seenme.It was, frankly, irresistible.
“You okay there for a second?”
“Yep. All good.” My arms would get tired held up like this but not just yet. He moved around, his boots barely audible as he shuffled to a work bag that I’d noticed on the ground. And sure enough, another few seconds later, he returned, his nearness ushering in a wave of awareness so strong, it necessitated I brace my feet a little wider.
“There. We. Go. I think we’re good. You can let go.”
He stepped back and touched my elbow in signal. That quick contact sent my stomach cartwheeling around my body as I took a large step away and clasped my hands together.
“Good work,” I said, pleased to see the vines all cooperating. He’d woven them together and pinned them so they looked incredibly ornate. They were honestly stunning, and amazingly, also alive, rooted in place at the base of the metal archway. “These look incredible.”
“Thank you. It’s a pet project that is more time consuming than I should tolerate, but I can’t seem to shake it.” He tossed a small bag of what looked like twist ties into his larger work bag and crouched to gather it up.
“Will they bloom again next year?” I asked, taking in the fact that he’d replicated this same style at every intersection and archway.
“They should. Most of these were planted last year, and I’m—” He abruptly cut off and dropped his head to focus on something in his bag.
“And you’re… what?”
He glanced up just enough to reveal his pinched brow. “Oh, never mind. It’s not important.”
Oh my goodness, he was killing me. He looked likethatand he was shy? How many times had I sat through unending diatribes on a given man’s business, investments, real estate opportunities—you name it, I’d feigned as much interest as I could in the name of social graces. And the one person I actually wanted to hear more from held himself so close I had to pry his words out of him.
And pry, I would.
Likely thanks to the general fed-upness hounding me out of my house this morning, I set a hand on his. My heart flip-flopped around when his eyes met mine, and I didn’t let go or back away.
“Tell me. I want to know.”
His gaze slipped over my face, those dark eyes tracking from my own down to my lips. “It’s not all that interesting.”
I huffed a breath. “I want to know.”
His attention seemed to intensify, as though the sun had spotlighted us where we stood and everyone else had left the stage. But we’d already been alone in this little corner of the garden, and now it felt like we were somehowmorealone. Like the air had charged with energy.
I lifted my chin and stood tall, suddenly possessed of the need to push him a little. To insist that he tell me, or better yet, touch me again.
Or better than that, kiss me again.
What did he do? He blushed. Just a little, but I could see the bright tinge creeping up over the line of his dark beard, and all I could think of was running a finger along his jaw.
He gave a little shake of his head. “I’ve been happy with how they’re growing. I wasn’t sure if I’d lose some of them and—”
