Page 3 of Marrying the Gardener
Her head tilts, causing the cascade of her hair to brush the bared freckles on one shoulder. She’s garbed in a sleeveless evening gown that ripples around her ankles. A frail strap holds the white fabric around her neck, leaving nothing of mystery where the constellations gracing it are concerned.
Calculation glitters like the gold in her deep brown eyes. “What were you doing with Vivia, a town over, this late at night?”
I could say it’s none of her business. I could arch a brow and wait until she realizes that fact herself. But, instead, I confess the truth, because the first thing I say to the woman I have a crush on might as well be: “I moonlight as an escort.”
It makes sense that the world doesn’t realize I’m a Bachelor brother. My parents erased me years ago, claiming only four sons. Due to all the time I spend outside, I’m darker skinned than the rest of my brothers, some of whom are indistinguishable from paper. Viktor, Lukas, and I all take after our father, but the resemblance isn’t strong. Despite my build being similar to Viktor’s, I did not go the way of the scruff, and no one would compare me to the tank that is Lukas. My shoulders might be broad, but I’m a long way off from being jacked.
All that said, who would really think any dark-haired guy around the famous Bachelors is related to the four brother celebrities that show up in the news every other week?
My eldest brother’s fiancée’s best friend, that’s who.
Yet it seems the fact of our blood relation has fallen through the cracks.
I guess that’s how little my name comes up in front of Crimson.
Maybe she doesn’t even know what it is.
Maybe, to her, I’m just a gardener.
It’s painful to think how little I cross this woman’s mind when she’s all that consumes my thoughts morning, noon, and night.
“You moonlight as an escort?” she asks, tone unreadable.
“Yes, Ms. Nightingale,” I say, opting fully forI’m a gardener, your highness. Stepping toward her, I try not to let my breath catch as I curl a finger in a waving lock of her hair, draw it to my lips, and kiss. Flicking my eyes up to meet hers, I murmur against the silk, “Do you require my services? You’re arriving awfully late to this shindig. And all alone, too… I could help with that, if you’d like.”
She doesn’t flinch, probably because I’m not a threat. I’ve, on occasion, seen this woman babysit the disaster that isCrisis. Things tend to blow up around my brother’s fiancée, but Crimson, somehow magically, disarms the bombs.
She’s quick witted, athletic,perfect. She could disembowel me in an instant with her keys if she so desired.
And I’d probably enjoy it.
“I’m late,” she informs me, regal as royalty, “because I didn’t want to come. Assuming your job is done now that Vivia’s driven off, are you leaving?”
“I was planning on it. I just need to call a cab.” I roll the shining strands of her hair between my fingers, mesmerized. “I won’t if you buy me, though.”
“How much?”
My heart chokes at the mere possibilityCrimson Nightingalewould be interested in me, but I contain myself and relinquish the beautiful silk of her hair instead of doing something embarrassing. Like begging on my knees in a parking lot for her to be serious. “What are you looking for? Companionship at a party you aren’t interested in? Or to get out of here? Because—” My voice lowers, growing with a need that bridges on desperation. “—I’m not allowed to charge for that…but for you, darling? I’d plead.”
Her soft laugh engulfs me as it leaves her heart-shaped lips.
While I’m bracing myself for rejection,Crimson Nightingaleturns on her heel and says, “Let’s get out of here.”
So—heart hammering frantically—I see myself to the passenger seat of her car.
Chapter 1
?
Down, boy.
Crimson
Streetlights pass as the quiet interstate streaks by, home getting closer with every minute. Even though I didn’t step foot inside Juniper’s party, I’m still exhausted over the possibility that Icouldhave. Several hours ago, did I feel bad that I was blowing off my “friend’s” invitation? Yes. A little bit. Did I care enough to come any earlier than midnight?
Emphatically no.
After a full day of managing relations with my father’s clients, shopping for birthdays, adjusting my schedule to include several other invitations, and maintaining my own existence, I didn’t have the stamina.
