Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Fortunately, we got down to business after that, and for a long while, I was too focused on refinishing Hunter’s floor to worry about refinishing Hunter’s—no. I needed to stop thinking in double entendres immediately. Giving in would mean I’d fully re-assimilated into the Thicket, and I was not here for that—I was too focused on refinishing the floor to worry about anything, and that was a nice change. My muscles warmed and loosened, and the damp heat of sweat beaded against my skin until I had to pull off my hoodie.
The physical work was far from my daily routine, which usually involved toiling at my desk sending emails or meeting with other executives about projection spreadsheets. Recently, my boss had dumped so many projects in my lap that I’d told Seamus I felt like I was standing beside a problem conveyor belt, with barely enough time to solve one problem before the next was in front of me. I certainly never got a chance to see the fruits of my labor in a meaningful way, the way you could with floor sanding.
But while that was often frustrating, I reminded myself that every job had its downsides. My career was stable, and the work itself was mentally stimulating—logistics was like a puzzle, and I’d always been good at those—plus, all the hours spent at work meant even my matchmaking mother couldn’t nag me to date more. At least, not as much as she’d probably like to.
A bottle of water dripping with condensation rolled toward me and bumped into the side of my knee, jolting me out of my justifications. I looked up from the pipe I was sanding around and turned off the palm sander when I saw Hunter cracking open his own bottle of water.
“Drink that,” he said gruffly, nodding at my bottle. “You’ve been working up a sweat.”
So had Hunter. The front of his shirt was plastered to his chest and shoulders, highlighting every ripple of muscle. This is what he’d look like in bed, I thought helplessly. This is what he’d look like after we’d worked up a sweat in a different way.
I looked away quickly. Fantasy, not reality, I reminded myself.
I flipped over to sit down and uncapped the water before taking a deep sip. “Thanks.”
“You do good work, Nutter. Better than I thought,” he said, like his honor compelled him to admit it, and I couldn’t deny the warm rush of pleasure at the grudging compliment.
“I’m not lazy,” I reminded him. “Never was. Remember how I earned that skating merit badge one bruising fall at a time?”
Hunter’s lips twitched. “I remember since I was the guy you were falling on most of the time. But I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for this sort of work, what with you being a corporate drudge and all.”
There wasn’t a direct question there, but Hunter set his water bottle in the center of the floor and dropped down beside it, draping his elbows over his bent knees, and regarded me curiously anyway.
“Yeah, well.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my forearm. “I do spend my day behind a desk, but even us corporate drudges hit the gym occasionally.”
Hunter looked me up and down for a moment as if measuring my physique to determine the truth of my words, then muttered a noncommittal “mmm.”
“Mmm?” I repeated, scowling. “What’s that supposed to mean? I have a gym membership. I work out.” I wasn’t built on the same scale as Hunter, but I was plenty strong. I casually flexed my biceps, hoping they’d show to good effect under my own sweat-damp T-shirt.
“Meh.” Hunter shrugged. “I’ve heard about those city gyms. You ride a Peloton while discussing stock prices with your fellow city-folk, right?”
I opened my mouth to disagree, then remembered my most recent spin class and closed it again. “I lift weights too,” I said, chin in the air.
“Sure, I can see that,” he agreed. “Paperweights, I assume?”
I made a noise of outrage, and Hunter burst into laughter that made it clear he’d been teasing… and I’d given him exactly the reaction he’d wanted.
“Nobody uses paper anymore. Jesus,” I said in the most dignified voice I could muster. “And besides, we can’t all be muscle-bound, uh…” I racked my brain for the few snippets of information about Hunter that my cousins had let slip the night before. “Plant farmers?”
His smile widened. “I prefer nursery owner. I started Jackson’s Organic Blooms after I came back from college.”
“You started your own business? Here in the Thicket? How’d you decide on that?” I wondered.
Hunter scratched his beard and shrugged. “The usual way, I guess. I’ve always loved farm life, measuring time by the way things grow.”
I nodded. I remembered this about him.
“I started growing plants in high school, so that was kind of a natural fit, and I knew I didn’t want to work for anyone else.” He placed one elbow behind his head and pushed it down with the opposite hand, wincing at the stretch. “And Licking Thicket’s my home. So I told my parents my plans and convinced them to let me set up my greenhouses on a parcel of their land. Took a couple years, but things are going well.”