Page 11 of Call of A Eagle

As I stepped outside, my eyes immediately gravitated to Waylen and my owl instantly perked up. I nudged her to the side, not wanting to deal with her antics right now, and started toward him. He was still shirtless, his toned back musclessoaking up the sunlight, while he continued to work in the bed he’d been in nearly all morning.

Exhaling a slow breath, I remind myself that I was only out here to offer him a sandwich, I wasn’t out here to ogle him. However, as I approached, he stood to his full height and turned to face me. I blinked once, caught off guard by how ripped his abs were.

The man didn’t have a six-pack—he had an eight-pack.

“Hey,” he said, flashing me a wide smile. “What do you think? It’s coming along nicely, isn’t it?”

I crammed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and tore my gaze away from him to the garden, hoping I wasn’t drooling over the sight of his muscles. “Yeah, it looks good.” I lifted my gaze to lock eyes with him. “We’re making some turkey sandwiches for lunch. Do you want one?”

“Sure, thanks.” His grin grew, and he leaned toward me, causing my heart rate to spike. “Think I could get two? I’m starved.”

My owl went wild at his sudden close proximity, throwing me off balance, but I quickly recovered. “I’ll put in a request, but I make no promises,” I said, before walking back to the cabin to help Granny with lunch.

Once inside, I closed the front door behind me and leaned against it for support. Closing my eyes, I exhaled a slow breath.

“You didn’t invite him in to sit at the table and eat with us?” Granny’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“I didn’t think about it, no,” I admitted, pushing off the door and heading for the kitchen. “He did say he’d like two sandwiches, please.”

I peeked out the kitchen window, watching as he collected the tools he’d used and headed toward the shed. The moment his eyes met mine, I ducked out of sight, my heart racing in my chest.

Enough, Lyra. You can’t let yourself get distracted like this.

I pulled in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and then I focused on helping with lunch. Once the sandwiches were made, along with a fruit salad, I carried everything to the small dining room table Granny had already cleared off. Before I could step outside to tell Waylen lunch was ready, she’d already called him in.

A wave of nerves washed over me as I heard his footsteps walking through the cabin.

When he entered the dining room, my owl stirred at the sight of him and my heart kickstarted inside my chest. I dropped my gaze from him to the plates I’d been setting out, mentally scolding myself and my owl for our reaction to him.

He was a distraction—one we didn’t need right now.

What we needed was to focus on Granny’s herbal business and get those garden beds back in order so they were easier to manage going forward. Dating wasn’t anywhere in there.

It couldn’t be.

Not right now.

“Thanks for inviting me in for lunch,” Waylen said, his voice caressing against me in the small dining room. “I appreciate it.”

Why was his voice so damn sexy right now?

Granny waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re working hard out there. The least we can do is feed you. Now, sit down and eat.”

I moved to take a seat across from Waylen, but Granny gave me a pointed look and nodded toward the chair beside him. “Sit there, Lyra. It’s closer to the fruit salad, and I know you’ll want more than one serving.” She shifted her attention to Waylen. “It’s her favorite.”

I paused for a moment, but knew there was no point in arguing. Granny clearly had her own agenda. With a sigh, I tookthe seat next to Waylen. Instantly, I could feel the heat of his presence beside me. It settled my owl like nothing ever had.

“Help yourself,” Granny said, motioning to the food on the table, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Waylen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed himself two sandwiches from the stack in the center of the table and flashed us both a smile.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know, I think that garden out there is secretly trying to kill me. Those wild blackberries are vicious. The thorns tore my hands up today.”

“And here I thought you were supposed to be a garden tamer,” I said, keeping my tone light but not letting him off the hook.

Something passed across his face—was that unease?

“I am,” he replied, taking a big bite of his sandwich. “But I swear those blackberry plants have a mind of their own. Every time I pull one up, two more pop up to take its place overnight. It’s like a bad magic trick.”