Arranged: An Array Series (Book #1)(65)

“I promise you, I wasn’t,” I countered, blowing on the top of my coffee.

“Some men like the challenge, Ava,” she said, returning to kneading her flour.

“How much more plain can I be without being rude?” It was an honest question. I’d known Ashton for quite some time, and I didn’t want the awkwardness between us. There was already more than enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Did you at least let the man kiss you before—”

I groaned loudly. “Was there anything else you would like to inquire about before I go into Pa’s study and drown myself in paperwork?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something else later.” The muscles around her mouth tensed as she tried not to laugh. Sliding off my seat, I grabbed my muffin and coffee, squinting my eyes at her.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Reynolds,” As I made my way out the door, I heard her chuckling before it even closed.

Rolling my eyes, I headed to the study, closed the door, and began organizing. It didn’t take long to find my rhythm, making fast work of the receipts. The inventory and trade deals were a completely different story, though. I jotted down the things that were in high demand for this time of the year and calculated prices, keeping my focus where it needed to be.

“My God, you are more beautiful than I remember.”

A cold chill rushed up my spine as my fingers froze on the papers I held. I was so lost in my work, I never heard the study door open and close. My lungs forgot how to inhale air as my eyes slowly sauntered to the edge of the desk to the navy-blue carpet in the room. The fast pounding of my heart increased as my gaze reached closer to the door. I already knew what I would find. The man who consumed my thoughts at night, with his perfectly structured face and body.

My eyes landed first on the brown boots, and continued upward to his long legs dressed in darker slacks. Knots began to tug at my stomach when I reached his chest, so broad and hard. I recalled how small I felt against it as we danced and kissed at the Melon Berry picnic. His soft pink lips were parted, stubble above them and around his chin. Hesitating, I squeezed the reports in my hands, mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes. They were dangerous, cunning, beautiful. I’d gotten lost in them and, Femme Fatale help me, I was still drawn to them.

Finally, my eyes met his, and I found him looking at me as though I were a ghost.

“I needed to see you,” he admitted, his voice gently caressing my body. His eyes held mine hostage. “I needed to make sure you were well, and that your father didn’t require any more assistance.”

If George had sent him, I would personally wring his neck, and the four-day trip would be well worth it.

“I’m fine,” I replied, releasing my death grip on my reports. “My father is very well recovered, so your trip here was for nothing. Aren’t your men reporting back to you?” I asked, in an accusing tone. I knew for a damn fact they were.

“To see you, I’d say the trip was worth it, even if you don’t need anything,” he quipped, his voice rough but laced in soft silk. I broke his gaze and tried to focus back on my work; as if I could. At least I could try to look unaffected by his presence.

I shrugged. “I don’t see why. I don’t require anything from you.”

Garrett stiffened, furrowing his brows. “You don’t require anything from anyone. You have too much pride.”

“And too much work to do. Was there anything else?” Meeting his face again, I strained to keep mine emotionless.

“I missed you, Avie.” I clamped my mouth shut. I missed him too. Everything about him. “We left each other in a very bad way. I never got to—”

“Really, no hard feelings. As you said, I’m prideful. My pride was just pricked a little that day, an unfortunate thing. I assure you, I’m fine.”

“What if I said I’m not fine?” he pressed on. “That you can’t just leave like that.”

I couldn’t take anymore. Not his pleading, nor his apologies. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I wanted him too much, and it hurt.

“If you are feeling unwell, there are two very good, educated doctors here who can mend you.”

Garrett shook his head. “No, they can’t mend me in the way I need mending.”

Locking my eyes on an inventory report, my vision blurred as the heat of his stare took away my ability to read.

His body hovered over the desk, casting more tension in the air. “You can’t leave a man you’ve kissed like that and expect him to be okay.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, Garr. You act like it was your first time.”

“It was the first time I’d been kissed like that and felt something.”

I refused to look at him. “I’m fine. Pa is fine. Your job here is done.”

Garrett started to walk toward me in slow, calculated steps. “Not until you accept my apology for speaking to you the way I did.”

“Apology accepted,” I declared, dropping my papers.

He rounded the desk. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.”

“Do you?” His voice deepened. “Then look me in the face and say it.”

I hesitated but accepted his challenge. Before I could speak, though, Mr. Brooks entered the room.

“My Lady, Mrs. Reynolds asked that I”—he noticed Garrett in the room—“place your flowers in here with you since you spend most your mornings here.”