Zoya Hart has been eluding her gold-digging stepmother for the last few years. Knowing that this woman will do anything to gain control of her and her late father's company, Zoya finds herself hiding out on a farm. Now, with a PI on her trail, Zoya'...
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Roman figured Zoya was staying with Mariana because she'd not been home since Saturday. Just as well. And besides, this is what he'd wanted all along. To have the whole place to himself. There was only one problem. He hated it.
Not having her across the hall drove him nuts. Sitting at the dinner table alone made him downright surly. And missing out on her fucking word of the day pissed him off. He'd tried to ease his pain by going to Rockin' The Boat, but couldn't get interested in anything there. He could find something wrong with all of them. Too tall, too slim, not the right shade of red.
Most nights he had a couple of drinks, then came home and got drunk in private. That way, he didn't have to worry about losing sleep. He fell into a whiskey coma and came too when the booze wore off. He had to stop acting like a teenager with his first crush. He didn't understand it; why did he think about her all the time?
He rubbed his hand over his four-day-old beard. Hell, he didn't even to want shave anymore. Didn't want to do much of anything.
Thankfully, Flynn and Ophelia would arrive tomorrow and he'd have plenty to do. Fishing. Target practice. Ophelia kicking his ass at video games when before prison, it had been the other way around. He'd take them into town when the festival started to check out the barbecue cook-off and antique car show. Ophelia would probably find her own niche. Roman remembered how much he and O liked the three-legged race and tractor pull. Too old for that now but the pancake breakfast was always a big crowd pleaser. He'd talk them into getting up early for that.
He walked to the window, peered into the early morning light, and his heart stopped. She was in the garden. Hoeing weeds and dragging dirt around the stalks of the tomato plants. She wore a shirt he'd not seen before. A blue button-up. The top two unfastened allowing the fabric to fall open at her throat. Even from this distance he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra.
The memory of having those breasts in his mouth caused his cock to jump. Damn it. He opened the door and ambled toward her. "Hey."
She didn't look up or stop working. "Hey."
"You been staying at Mariana's?"
"Yeah."
Why wouldn't she look at him? "When are you coming home?"
That stopped her, but she still didn't face him. Just leaned against the hoe handle as if considering his question. Then she took a deep breath and went back to working the dirt. "This isn't my home."
"Yes, it is. You pay rent. That makes it yours. My sister and Flynn will be here tomorrow. I wanted you to meet them."
"Why?"
The question caught him off guard. "Because I've told them about you. We live together. You lived with Charamel. I think they'd like to know you." Damn. None of that sounded like a good reason. Truth was, he didn't give a shit if they met her or not, he needed her to come back. She gave him something to look forward to, changed the repetitiveness of his days with her quirkiness. He missed her word of the days. He missed her. So why couldn't he say that?
