Chapter 3 Aria (3)

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I awoke the following morning with a burden of foreboding weighing heavily in my chest. The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a warm light. I tossed over in bed, burying my face in the hard pillow as though I could silence the thoughts that haunted me.

Liam.

Every time I tried to push him out of my mind, his face appeared before me-his dark, brooding eyes, his calloused fingers, the way his smile had that small twist to it, as if he knew exactly what to say in order to infuriate me.

I groaned into the pillow, forcing myself to forget the flame that had flared between us while working in the garden yesterday. It wasn't even the way he walked or how his muscles tensed in the sun-it was all of it. All of our memories flooded my senses. The way he made me feel alive, the way he'd been my everything. until he hadn't been anymore.

He'd been a mistake.

He was still a mistake.

But I couldn't help remembering the way his fingers had brushed against mine while we worked. A casual contact, nothing unusual, and yet it had felt like a jolt, an electric shock that ran right through my chest and down to places I hadn't seen in years.

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a simple sundress, the kind that billowed and touched only lightly against the skin, hoping the fabric would muffle my mind. I didn't have time to think about him. I had things to do-things that didn't include *him*.

But as soon as I emerged from my bedroom, there he was.

Liam.

He sat on the back porch, a coffee cup held in his hand, his legs stretched out in front of him. He seemed to belong there-like he had never been away. His eyes snapped to me the moment I came outside, a glimpse of something raw flashing across his face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by that cold, calculated expression he'd honed over the years.

"Morning," he whispered, his tone low, the word an offering and he holding back for me to take it.

"Morning," I managed, stepping out onto the porch with a moment's hesitation. I resented the fact that he could still get my heart to pound a little bit faster from a simple word.

He said nothing else. Just sipped his coffee and looked at me, as if he was studying me. I could feel his eyes on me, tracing the lines of my body, lingering on my naked skin. I told myself I didn't care, but I was lying.

"Garden's almost done," he said casually, breaking the silence. "I'll have it done today."

I nodded, but my thoughts drifted away. His statement was harmless enough, but it was too familiar. Too comfortable. Like nothing had changed at all.

When everything had.

"I want to make sure you're on task," I said, my voice a little harder than I meant it. "There's still a lot of work to be done around here. I'm not paying you to just sit around."

He didn't blink at the bite in my voice. His expression didn't falter. Instead, he just nodded slowly. "Of course. I'm here to work, Aria. I said that yesterday."

His voice was calm, too calm. I hated that he wasn't getting angry at my attitude, that he wasn't having a tantrum like I wished he would. That he wasn't begging. He wasn't doing anything to restore the man he used to be-the man who had crumbled at the first sign of my temper.

But I was crumbling now.

Not him.

I wanted to blow my top at him. To tell him to take off, get the hell off my property and never come back. But I couldn't. He had over me in ways I did not wish to admit, and the last thing I needed was to admit that I was still *hopelessly* attracted to him.

"I'll be inside," I growled, my tone raspy. Not waiting for permission, I spun on one heel and marched back into the house, trying to slow my breathing.

I was being ridiculous. He was just a man.

Just a man whom I had loved and lost.

But the longer he was here, the more futile it was to resist the magnet pulling me in his direction. And the most dreadful thing of all-*he knew it*.

***

The day trudged by too slowly for convenience. I tried to get work done-on the estate, on the things that were waiting to be tended to-but my mind kept wandering. It was impossible not to wonder what Liam was doing. Whether he was present, bare chested, sweaty, the way I had envisioned him at that moment in the garden. I could picture him now, his bare back, the sun lighting the muscles which had always gotten my heart racing, even when I hated him.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, shaking my head. That wasn't what I needed to think about now. I needed to get to work. But whenever I looked out the window, I saw him working, intent, his movements purposeful and sure.

The pull was strong. I couldn't fight it anymore.

During lunchtime, I paid him a visit. He was bent over beside the flowerbeds, weeding, his shirt soaked with sweat, sticking to his back. His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his arm bulging with every movement, and I couldn't help but stare.

"You don't need to do all of this," I said, firm but gentle. I needed him to understand this wasn't an open door-not a door he could use for himself as an opportunity to infiltrate my life.

He tensed, his eyes meeting mine with that same hard, unflinching gaze. "I told you, Aria. I'm here to prove myself."

I shook my head, annoyed with him staring at me the way he was. *What did he want?*

"Prove yourself how? By being my gardener?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. It was hard to keep the anger when all in me wanted to give in to the craving building in my veins.

He did not seem offended. He even seemed to derive amusement from what was taking place. "You have a lot of pride," he said in a quiet, measured tone. "I don't know that I've ever seen you as you are now."

"I wasn't like that previously," I snapped, moving forward on him. "You don't get to just come back into my life like nothing has occurred."

His eyes grew dark as he stepped forward, bridging the gap between us. "Who told me I was trying to come back? Maybe I am just trying to set things right."

I took a step back, gasping in my throat. "I don't want you to set things right. Not with me."

He was too near now, his scent surrounding me, a rich mixture of mud-scented cologne and the faint sheen of perspiration. He stepped closer, his hand floating gently along my arm, and a spark of electricity shot through me.

"You're lying," he breathed, his voice hoarse. "You want me, Aria. I know it in your eyes. You've always desired me. Even when you detested me."

I pulled back, my chest heaving. "No," I said, but even I didn't believe I meant it. "I don't want you."

But the moment I spoke the words, I knew they were a lie. The truth was standing right there in front of me, irrefutable, hanging in the air between us.

He took a step further, his body looming over mine, and I couldn't even move my eyes. His fingers brushed against my cheek, the contact so light and it sent shivers down my spine.

"Aria," he murmured, his mouth inches from mine. "You don't need to play it cool. I'm not going anywhere."

And I wasn't even certain if I wanted him to.