Page 43 of Noble Neighbor
“Right,” her companion drawled, and Sunny cursed the light blush she could feel rise and flood her face. “Harlan says he’s a fine man.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Further conversation halted with the approach of Hud — the owner of the local hardware, Sunny his favorite customer at present — who’d supplied the lumber and other materials.
Sunny gave him a friendly greeting, and while Ronan stepped forward to sign the delivery note, she moved up into the shade of her kitchen porch, needing some time to get her tumultuous heart under control before facing Oliver.
Urgh. Now she was resorting to teenage tactics, delaying the moment of meeting the boy she had a crush on. The feeling of rightness that settled over her at Oliver’s stamp of… ownership maybe, by choosing to park beside her vehicle and not by the others under the trees near the chicken coop, scared her.
And did he have to look so devastatingly sexy as he sauntered toward her, the pale green tee pulling tight across his shoulders, his hips snug in threadbare jeans?
“Sunny.” His seductive voice filled her ears as he stopped beside her.
She shot him a side-eye. “Oliver.”
His warm chuckle wrapped around her, even if his arms didn’t. “Shy, Sunny?” Oliver prodded her arm with his elbow. “You weren’t shy earlier. In fact, I seem to recall, despite my sweaty frame, you had no problem pressing your body to mine.”
“Oliver,” she hissed.
Deep laughter shook his frame. “I get it. No touching in public.”
Sunny had been adamant in keeping the … whatever she and Oliver were exploring between the two of them, private. She wanted no expectations to cloud her thinking.
It was hard enough to keep her mind clear — and her hormones under control — around the man. She did not need additional pressure from her girls. The last thing she wanted was their disappointment when this thing between her and Oliver had run its course.
And it would end. That fact was inevitable.
“But” — Oliver moved his head closer to whisper in her ear — “I’ll find some time,alonetime, with you. Today. Promise.”
His words sizzled through her. Sunny bit back the groan teasing the tip of her tongue, but before she did something foolish, like say, fling her arms around Oliver and beg him to carry her upstairs and do all sorts of wonderful things to her body, she cleared her throat and stepped back, turning to the kitchen door. “Well, with three strong men putting up the hen house, I’ll go busy myself with … other stuff.”
Like figuring what to do with dozens of apples.If only I could call Mama. Sunny exhaled deeply at the futility of her thoughts. Maybe Google had some ideas.
*
Against his will, Oliver liked Ronan “Law” Murphy. When he’d heard the man was helping Sunny with thecoop, he’d very quickly volunteered his and his father’shelp, even knowing Murphy was married.
But it didn’t stop him from complaining. “Thought I was volunteering to work with wood, not dig trenches and lay cement blocks.”
Oliver positioned the last one, stood, and flexed his back, observing the rectangular base he’d completed and, despite his moaning, pleased with his handiwork. The foundation was level, the corners square, ready and waiting for the frame. He wiped the sweat from his face with the shirt he’d long abandoned.
“What? Your hands gone soft from clicking a keyboard all day? Besides, Frank assigned you the chore, not me,” Murphy added, tongue-in-cheek
Oliver sent his grinning father a stink-eye. The man understood his limitations. He could swing a hammer and drill a hole just fine, but the rest was best left to the professionals. His father’s woodworking skills passed him over to settle on Clement. That’s okay. He didn’t mind Clement getting his portion; he wasn’t partial to sawdust. “How about I go inside and see what refreshments I can scrounge up?”
And maybe steal a kiss or two from the pretty lady within.
His father’s gaze drifted to the basket Sunny had brought out earlier. It was still half-filled with sandwiches, coffee, and cold water. “Sure, son. You do that.”
Murphy sniggered, keeping his head bowed and hands busy with his tape measure and a two-by-four plank.
“Maybe I’ll just stay inside,” Oliver threatened. “And leave you two to do all the work by yourselves.” Good-natured laughter followed as he walked away, slipping his tee over his head.
Chaos greeted him in the kitchen. Apple peelings and browning cores littered one area, another section contained various plasticware filled with diced applessoaking in water, and yet another area held the makings of what he assumed to be piecrust dough.Scattered amongst it all were various utensils and trappings and ingredients associated with baking. For a moment he contemplated backtracking outside.
Until his eyes fell on Sunny.
She stood before the stove, tears streaming down her face.
