“This house was built to last,” he says, amused. “My family owns thousands of acres of land. There’s plenty to live on. You wouldn’t be starving. So, what do you say? Are you going to help me with the farm?”
I don’t know why, but he kind of looks smug. And then I remember.
He doesn’t think I have what it takes for physical labor.
“Sounds like a date.” I take a huge gulp of my coffee, emptying half the mug, and jump up with a triumphant smile on my face.
He downs his coffee and stands, a smile creeping up his face. It’s only then that I realize what I’ve just said.
Holy shit!
What the fuck’s wrong with me?
“Obviously not a date but—” I wave my hand in the air as more heat rushes to my face.
His smile widens, revealing two rows of perfect, white teeth. Teeth I can’t help but imagine nibbling on my body and tugging gently at my sensitive skin.
The thought instantly makes me horny.
Oh, God.
I’m a lost cause.
“Not a ‘date’ date,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Obviously. Let’s call it earning your bacon while you’re lying in my hay.”
He can’t possibly expect payment. But, in spite of his smile, his expression is so honest, I’m not sure he’s not serious.
I clamp my mouth shut to keep back a snarky remark because, let’s face it, I’m flat-out broke and might just have to work to earn my keep. Judging by the way his gaze seems to brush the front of my top, I’m not sure what that work might entail.
“If you think I’d ever fuck you in exchange for staying here, you’re wrong. I’d rather sleep outside, in the dirt.”
He leans into me, his breath brushing my lips. I can smell the faint scent of coffee and bacon, the heady mix of aftershave and him. An instant throb forms between my legs.
“It was a joke, Ava. I’d never expect you to pay for anything. Be my guest for as long as you want. The fucking part is voluntary, though I’m pretty sure there’ll be lots of that.”
He pulls back and I stare at him, open-mouthed and struck speechless.
Nope, I still don’t get him.
CHAPTER TEN
I’ve never considered myself ugly, but I’m no blond model material either. My figure is not bad, with a bit of extra padding here and there. Guys always seem to like my generous chest size, but that’s not impressive either.
No one like him—rich and instant-panty-drop sexy—has ever hit on me.
You rejected him, and now he thinks you’re a challenge.
That must be my answer.
Combine spectacular looks with a bruised ego in a guy, and he’s major trouble. It’s like he turns into a bloodhound, sniffing you out, pursuing you relentlessly. Once the job’s done, he’ll lose interest and be gone before you even realized what just happened.
“I know I keep asking the same stuff, but I can’t figure you out.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How does the dirty talking usually fare for you?”
“What dirty talking? I haven’t even started yet.”
I sigh at his infuriatingly sweet tone. “Okay, let’s try again. So, what is it that you do? Irritate the hell out of a woman so she gives in just to get rid of you?”
A smile flashes across his lips. “I don’t usually need to. Women usually throw themselves at me. But—”
“But?” I raise my brows at him, silently coercing him to enlighten me.
“But I might not have any other choice with you.”
“Ah.” I nod knowingly, mocking him. “Maybe not everyone is into you, you know? Does that make sense?”
Before I know it, he grips my chin between his fingers and leans forward. Our breaths intermingled, I’m forced to meet his green gaze, and I don’t like what I see there.
Longing.
My own longing for him to kiss me is reflected in his eyes.
And then there is something else.
Determination.
Raw, hard, primitive determination.
The kind I don’t possess.
He’s used to getting what he wants. I knew that from the first moment I saw him. What I didn’t expect was that, for some reason, he might be wanting me.
“I’m everyone’s type, Ava,” he says, his voice low. “You just have to realize it.”
He lets go, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation on my skin.
I shake my head, more out of need to convince myself that no man could have such an effect on me than disagreement. “Be that as it may, you’re not everyone’s type to handle, and I can assure you I’m not interested in getting involved with a guy like you.”
“And what kind of guy do you think I am?”
“Mmh, let me think.” I bite my lip in mock contemplation. “The kind of guy who thinks you’re on every woman’s bucket list of things to do before they die.”
“Wow. You have me down to a T.” He eyes me, amused. “So, why don’t you join the crowd?”
I let out a laugh. “Seriously? Is that even a question?”
“It is.” He nods. “Women usually throw themselves at me. Except you. You seem to be the exception, which poses the important question: why do you keep rejecting me?” His question sounds genuine, like he’s given it a lot of thought and can’t for the life of him figure out the answer.
“You’re too much,” I admit.