Bloom of Love (Long Valley #10) - Erin Wright Page 0,3
else?” Carla asked politely. Every one of her spidey senses was going off – there was something going on here. Something she hadn’t figured out yet.
The only thing she loved more than a mystery was solving a mystery.
“No, no,” he mumbled, pulling his cap back on his head firmly. “Have a goo – is this your cat?”
Carla blinked twice, completely confused by the change in topic, and then saw him leaning over to pet Leo, and she laughed. “Oh yes, he’s mine. He’s our shop cat. He loves everyone. He’ll let you pet him until the cows come home, and then still complain that you haven’t petted him long enough.”
“Nice kitty,” Christian crooned, and Carla smiled to herself. He sure was a damn nice guy, which squared up with what she remembered about him from high school. He’d been a year ahead of her and they’d never really run in the same circles, but she’d never heard a bad word about him.
He straightened up and pulled on his cap in one swift motion. “Have a good one,” Christian said, pulling on the brim of his cap, and then he was disappearing through the front door, the jingle of the bell co-mingling with Carla’s lusty sigh.
That ass.
Those eyes.
She had about as much chance of dating him as she had flying to the moon next week, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a good-lookin’ man when she saw one.
And there was a lot about Christian Palacios to appreciate.
Chapter 3
Christian
I myself am often surprised by life’s little quirks.
~Westley in The Princess Bride
Christian scratched at the rash again, cursing fluently under his breath. The best thing about being bilingual was, he knew all of the best swear words in two languages.
“What’s up with the rash?” Stetson Miller asked, jerking his head towards the swollen red bumps on Christian’s arm.
“Nothin’,” Christian said automatically, dropping his arm by his side and flashing his boss a quick grin. “An allergic reaction. I just took a Benadryl. It’ll calm down here in a minute. Must’ve gotten into something.”
Stetson nodded, unconcerned, already having mentally moved on. “Good. Look, I need to head over to Declan’s place for a minute. He’s fighting his new combine and needs me to take a look at it. You guys got this handled?”
“Of course. We’ll be fine.”
Stetson headed out, his pickup leaving a cloud of dust in its wake, as Christian turned back to the fence they’d been fixing, wiping at the sweat trickling down his brow. Two more farm hands were further down, fixing another weak spot, but after this, they could probably call it for the day.
Which was damn good. Because petting Carla’s shop cat was quickly turning into an incredibly stupid thing for Christian to have done, and he was officially miserable. Fixing fence was never fun at the best of times, but doing it while wanting to tear at his skin was making the project just that much worse.
He realized he was scratching the rash again and forced himself to stop. Picking up his wire pliers, he knelt down in the lush summer grass and grabbed the thin metal strand, pulling on it and tightening it up. Cows used any excuse in the world to go wandering out where they weren’t supposed to be, and a loose fence was more than enough of an invitation for them to take a stroll into the neighbor’s field.
The rash on his arm was distracting as all hell, though, pulsing with each beat of his heart, and he had to grit his teeth to avoid the temptation to tear at the skin.
So yeah. He was allergic to cats. He should’ve petted Carla’s shop cat like he should’ve eaten glass for breakfast. But he’d wanted some reason – any reason – not to leave the shop, and had been desperate enough to do something he damn well knew he shouldn’t.
Desperation. It was a thing.
And after causing one of the biggest flare-ups to his allergies that he’d had in years, he’d gotten what out of it again?
That’s right, nothing at all.
Carla had been so damn sweet, promising him that she’d drop the flowers off herself the morning of the party. It’d been the one thing he’d held onto after he’d left sans a date or a promise to chat later or even her phone number. He could’ve asked – he should’ve asked – but he had just as much experience asking girls out on dates as he did riding bucking bulls.