Page 28 of Marrying the Gardener
Not being able to force a blush might be my downfall since itcertainly steals the realism from my love story.
As it stands, Charlotte isn’t supposed to be head-over-heels for the man, yet I don’t think she’s stopped blushing for even a second since she first laid eyes on him in all his topless glory yesterday.
When she brings our food to the table, I want to steal the red from her pale cheeks, but I settle for picking up my fork instead. “Looks delicious. Thank you, Char, Adel.”
Precious, Charlotte beams, folds her hands before her apron, and asks, “Do you need anything else, Mrs. Nightingale?”
“Not right now. I appreciate you.”
Joy fills her until she remembers this isn’t a normal morning. Her sunshine dims as she flicks her gaze toward Kaleb. Taking a breath, she says, “A-and you, sir? Can I get you anything else?”
Kaleb doesn’t spare her a glance as he taps a finger to his half-full coffee cup and turns the page in his newspaper.
I bite my tongue to avoid snappinguse your wordsat him. This is mild behavior, and I know that. I know that because I’ve experienced far worse than pretentiousness and self-importance. This is fine. I’m just on edge because my people deserve better thanfine.
Lifting my tea cup, I sip and transport myself mentally to Brew Tea, Crisis’s and my favorite tea shop in Sunset. While there, surrounded by idle chatter and across from my dear twin’s infectious smile, I review my tasks for the day. After breakfast, I’ll continue my routine. I’ll play with General for a bit. I’ll check my schedule. I’ll make my important calls. I’ll respond to any important missives. I’ll order that present for my father’s top shareholder’s wife…
It’s her birthday next week, and she’s turning fifty, so it has to be something more thoughtful than flowers since the goal is to come off as a little more personal than a dentist office sending an automaticHappy Birthdayemail. Hm. I’ll dwell on that later.
Where personal matters today are concerned, I have to do something about the scent of Kaleb’s skin on my comforter. All last night, it haunted me, and I will not be spending another evening with it, thank you very much.
“Ava,” I say, broaching.
The woman turns, smiling at me as though everything is…fine? Maybe everything is fine now. Maybe she’s decided to take a different angle in this situation. Anything is better than her disappointment. “Yes, Mrs. Nightingale?”
Mrs.
I swallow and force a smile. “Could you have my bedding washed today?”
Her smile falters as her brows lift, and she cuts a look at Kaleb, who chuckles suggestively and turns another page in his stupid paper.
I blink at them, then at Charlotte, whose face manages miraculously to deepen in hue. Tense, she fumbles the coffee pot she’s holding, splashing hot liquid across the table. Color drains from her cheeks. “S-sorry. I’m so sorry. I…I’ll clean it up right away, Mr. Nightingale.”
My stomach twists as the perfect opportunity to be a Class A donkey presents itself. If Kaleb startsyellingat Charlotte, I am not going to be okay.
She’s frail, younger than me, and just trying to get by after tragedy took her parents, leaving her orphaned as a teenager—old enough to miss precious memories, too young to get by alone.
She deserves nothing but safety. Nothing but kindness. Nothing but—
My heart drops when Kaleb moves, and I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.
Folding his paper, he sets it aside and…lifts his cup so Charlotte can wipe the table under it. “It’s all right,” hemurmurs, gentle. “Accidents happen.”
Her eyes hit him, and her rigid body stills.
Sweet as an angel, he breaks out a tenderness I know had to serve him well in escorting.Warmcannot define his current expression. It’s radiant. So radiant, it puts Charlotte in a daze that doesn’t break until he goes back to his insipid paper.
Once she’s managed to invent another shade of red, clean up, and get him a new cup of coffee, he hums dangerously.
My entire being tenses.
“I believe,” he turns a page, “we were talking aboutdirty bedding?” His eyes meet mine above the pale gray paper.
Ah.
Well.
When he puts it likethat, I am thinking I should have sucked up existing with the faint, earthy scent of his cologne until the usual washday.
