“You hate mowing the lawn.”
I do.But I didn’t realize he knew that.
“But it’s stillmyresponsibility.”
He frowns and looks at me warily.“Are you mad?”
I look around the yard again, this time seeing all the work he’s likely put into its maintenance.
“No,” I say on an exhale.“In fact, I don’t really know how to thank you.I feel terrible I didn’t even notice this whole time.”
He drops his gaze to the ground, and I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.Tristan’s never been a big talker, but moments like this I wish I could read his mind.
How many other things has he done for me that I haven’t noticed?
Does he make a habit of this?And if he does, how can I ever repay him for looking out for me?For taking something I’d deem as tedious completely off my plate?
“I’ll just finish up the edges and then get out of your hair,” he says.
“Are you hungry?”I ask.
His eyes shoot up to meet mine, something swirling in his beautiful blue gaze I can’t quite name.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?”I add.
“Sure,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine and making me feel like he sees so much more than everyone else sees.
I go inside to get the chicken that’s been marinating all day into the oven while Tris finishes the lawn.I can’t stop myself from watching him through the front window as I dry my hands and wait for the familiar ding of the oven timer.His muscles bunch and move under his tight skin, his physique more perfect than any man has a right to be.His broad shoulders narrow down to a trim waist, and I watch a rivulet of sweat drip down into the waistband of his pants.
I swallow hard and divert my gaze as guilt consumes me.What the fuck am I doing?Ogling my dead husband’s best friend?I move back to the kitchen, busying myself with mindless tasks until I hear the front door open and Tristan walks in, his shirt still hanging from his back pocket where he’s tucked it in and his torso bare and glistening.
“Mind if I wash up?”
I stare at him, my mouth gaping and my brain shorting out.
His brows furrow as he takes a step closer to me, and a whiff of his manly musky scent hits my nose, causing me to suck in a breath.
“Are you okay?”he asks, concern etched on his face.
I shake my head and try to break this stupid trance he’s put me under.Seriously, what the hell is going on?
“S-sorry.”I shake my head again, hoping the action will shake away the fogginess of my brain.“It’s been a rough day.”
It’s not technically a lie, but it doesn’t ease the ache my guilt has caused in my stomach.
“Go ahead and wash up.Dinner’s almost ready.”
He watches me cautiously for a beat before he nods his head like he’s convinced I’m okay.
That makes one of us.
When he leaves the room, I turn around and brace my hands against the sink, dropping my chin to my chest and taking huge, heaving breaths that are supposed to center me but still leave me feeling off-kilter.I turn on the cold water and splash some on my face, which does the trick.The chill of the water seems to douse the heat of my body and cool the flush on my cheeks.
I don’t know what the fuck that was, but it can’t ever happen again.