Page 60 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"I need to look at one of the dogs in the south kennel. It may take a while."

"I'll survive."

"You can come with me."

"I think I've reached my veterinary limit for the morning."

"Then wander around. You know where everything is now."

Not everything. My gaze drifts toward the open barn doors. Beyond them, I can see the tops of the greenhouses. And the fields. The ones I didn't see last time. The ones Martinez said were partly his.

When I look back, Emma is watching me.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

Her smile follows her out the door. Traitor. Again.

I clean my hands and step outside. I should probably find something useful to do. Instead, I start walking. Not toward the fields. Just around. There is a difference. Probably.

I pass the training shop and wave to Drew through the open doors. Cole is carrying two buckets toward the chicken coop, and someone is repairing a tractor near the equipment barn.

Then I reach the end of the barn. And stop. I stay behind the corner, leaning just far enough to peek around it.

Martinez is in the field.

He's maybe fifty yards away, working between two long rows of plants with a shovel driven into the dark earth beside him. His baseball cap is gone. The gray cotton of his T-shirt is darkened between his shoulder blades, and when he bends to pull something from the soil, the muscles across his back shift beneath the fabric.

This is ridiculous. He's digging. Men dig. There is absolutely nothing fascinating about a man digging.

He drives the shovel into the ground again.

Apparently I have been misinformed.

He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. And that's when I see his stomach.

“Oh, okay.”

Apparently Martinez has abs. Actual abs. This feels like information I did not need. Or want. But my eyes disagree.

I should leave. Immediately.

He drops his shirt. I take one careful step backward. Then another. Maybe if I move quietly enough, I can pretend none of this happened.

"Hart?"

I freeze. No. Absolutely not.

"Is that you?"

There is a stack of wooden crates beside the corner of the barn. I move behind them. I am an adult woman hiding behind vegetable crates because a sweaty farmer caught me staring at him. My mother would be so proud.

"I know it's you."

I close my eyes. There are moments in life when dignity can still be salvaged. This is probably not one of them.