Page 8 of Marrying the Gardener (The Bachelor Brothers #3)

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I hate everything about this.

Crimson

Smiling in a way I hope implies that I’m “in love,” I kiss Kaleb’s cheek and sigh against his chest—which is bare, because he said not having a shirt on is a very arrogant guy move.

I don’t like it, but I do, of course, agree.

My father would often meander around topless as though anyone wanted to see his beer belly.

With untoned firmness boasting the presence of hidden abs, Kaleb might have something worth showing off, but still.

It is beyond arrogant to be half-naked in a house full of women, and it’s clear that my youngest staff member, Charlotte, isn’t having a good time.

Her face blistered as red as her curls the second Kaleb plodded down the stairs with me and I began the charade of presenting his new home to him.

Clearly, a man showing off anywhere at any time is an unwelcome experience.

“What do you think, Kaleb darling?” I ask, muting the undercurrents of disgust that plague me for allowing a man to invade the sanctity of my home and disrupt the peace of my girls.

It’s so we’ll all have a future that’s safer.

I know that.

I know that, but it still hurts.

Eyes sparkling, Kaleb presses me over the island counter in my kitchen and taps a somewhat patronizing little kiss to my nose.

“Our home is beautiful, baby,” he says, glancing toward where Charlotte has been uncomfortably lingering in the archway, large eyes burdened with questions and concern.

“I think we’ve teased the help long enough, don’t you? ”

When their eyes lock, Charlotte gasps and darts out of sight in a fit of short red curls.

“I think they want to meet me.” He chuckles. “And it’s well past time for introductions.”

Charlotte peeks back around the corner, and Kaleb takes the opportunity to snap his fingers at her .

“Girl, gather the rest of the staff in the parlor at once.” His attention slips toward a bottle of wine on a rack I keep stocked for when I’m entertaining select guests, and he lifts my chin on the tip of his finger.

“While we wait for everyone, you can pour me a drink.”

I’d flinch if Charlotte weren’t still watching us.

Because what does he mean pour him a drink ? He’s working. He wants to be inebriated while he’s working ? Managing to keep my smile intact, I say, “Of course, darling. Any preferences?”

“The finest you have. We are celebrating after all, aren’t we?” He rests his hip against the counter and tucks his hands in his pockets. Before I can reply, he scowls at Charlotte, who has not yet moved a muscle. “I told you to do something.”

She squeaks. “S-sorry! Right away, sir.” After she bolts, I lose my smile and set a bottle of wine down too hard on the counter.

While I get a corkscrew from the drawer, Kaleb tenses. “I can handle my alcohol. And I’ll barely be drinking. It’s just a prop. To make me look more insufferable.”

Insufferable, huh? Fancy that he needs help.

I pour his stupid glass of wine and turn, crossing my arms as I dangle the glass stem between my fingers.

In the action, my robe slips off my shoulder, but I ignore it.

“Charlotte comes from a bad background littered with upsetting foster parents. Take extra care with her.” Stiff, I close my eyes and bite out, “ Please . I know I’m already asking for a lot…

but I don’t want to hurt the people I care about any more than is absolutely necessary to maintain this. ”

Approaching, Kaleb corrects my robe and tightens the sash for me before lifting the glass from my fingers. “I understand. Once this is over, I’ll petition everyone’s forgiveness and apologize for my crude behavior.”

My brow knits. “You’re not the one who will need their forgiveness after this is over, Kaleb.”

“Then we can apologize together.” He leans in, toward my ear, and whispers, “Like husband and wife.”

This time, I do flinch.

But his smile is beyond kind when he moves away, checks his surroundings, and pours half his wine in the sink. “Since you’re concerned, let them assume I’ve already drunk some.”

I force a tight breath into my chest. “That was expensive, you know.”

“Do you really care?”

Not one lousy bit. My father was always harder to manage whenever he was drunk, and he was rarely ever sober on the weekends or in the evenings. If I didn’t need the stuff to entertain guests, I wouldn’t have it in my home. So I shake my head. “No.”

“Are you ready?”

I feel ill. But I regain my in love smile and pretend I’m with Crisis at our favorite tea place instead of here.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures me.

“It won’t be.” I go to him and slot myself into place at his side. “But…thank you.”

He takes the lead back to the parlor I already showed him earlier, and there we find my meager team of four: Ava and Charlotte, my housekeepers; Esmee, my security detail; and Adelhilde, my chef.

They all live here, together, in the mother-in-law suite on the property.

And, apart from Ava, I handpicked them myself.

The unrest creasing brows and twisting faces pinches my chest as Kaleb and I stop at the head of the room.

“This is it?” Kaleb asks, scanning them.

Charlotte cowers while the others turn their unrest into frowns.

I dig my fingers into his back before I remember this is exactly what I’m asking for. He’s not even being that rude, all things considered. I’ve seen so, so much worse.

Just.

Never here.

In my home.

In front of my girls, whom I promised to protect when I hired them.

I maintain all the composure I know how to in front of far worse people and say, “It’s a modest home. They manage it well.”

“Hm.” Setting aside clear disapproval, Kaleb fixes me with a proud smirk. “I suppose it’ll do…for now. Go on.”

To avoid Ava’s glare, I focus on Charlotte. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my husband, Kaleb Ch—”

“Nightingale,” he interjects. “I took your name, remember? I don’t need to be a Charter anymore.” Scorn laces the way he says his old name, as though it’s already beneath him, and he swirls his wine, for added effect.

He’s good at this. So it’s a good thing everyone and their monkey’s uncle says that love makes you blind, because if I weren’t, he’d be dead to me already.

“I’m sorry.” I hug him, close, tight, resting my head against his shoulder as though he’s my entire world.

“It will take a little getting used to. Kaleb and I eloped this morning.”

Esmee lets her mouth fall open before she crosses her arms against her broad midsection and says, “You pregnant, ma’am?”

If only I could blush on cue… Unfortunately, I cannot, so I smile—maybe, hopefully shyly—and fix my hand on my stomach. “Well…yes.”

The physical weight of Ava’s disapproval could serve to inspire morning sickness.

Even though I’m refusing to look at her, it burns .

I teeter against shame, guilt, and pain as my fingers tremble.

Instinct demands I apologize to the closest thing I’ve had to a mother my entire life, but an apology doesn’t fit the script here.

Kaleb sets his hand over mine, almost tenderly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. It’s the only way we could be together. You know I would have married you first, if your father could have approved.”

“Your father will still not approve,” Ava says, tone iron hard.

“I intend to prove myself to him,” Kaleb responds, equally hard. “I will show him I’m worthy of being the son he’s always wanted.”

This time, I can’t stop my real emotions from leaking through. The words sting, replaying in my mind, vibrating with truth.

My father wanted a son, and I know how different my life would have been if I were a boy.

I may have been loved.

I may have been wanted.

I may not have been hit nearly as much.

For this entire plot to work, my father and grandfather will have to like a complete stranger more than either of them have ever tolerated me. And even if I despise the men in my family, that still hurts .

Ava catches sight of the tears welling in my eyes and stands, planting her hands on her hips. “Watch your tongue.”

“Watch yours.” Kaleb pins Ava with a look so self-indulgent, I want to hit him. “You’re speaking to the man of this house.”

Ava’s gray brows shoot skyward, and she scoffs. “Am I? Well then. As the man of this house, you should know better than to speak so carelessly around the lady of it. Consider Ms. Nightingale’s feelings.”

“ Mrs. Nightingale,” Kaleb states. “And I think I know what my wife can handle.”

It’s so perfect, this act. This pride. This suggestion that a man knows me better than the woman who raised me. It’s so twisted. It’s so reminiscent of my father. It’s…going to work.

I just don’t know at what cost.

“Kaleb,” I say, around the lump forming in my throat.

His eyes drop to me, and something in them…shifts—horrified.

I continue, “It’s okay. Ava’s only looking out for me. There’s no need to be so defensive. We knew this would be sudden.”

“Sudden,” Ava mutters. “How long did you say you’ve been together?”

“Just over two years,” I offer, bracing myself when I drag my gaze off Kaleb and to her.

“Two years you’ve kept this secret from me.” Ava’s lips prune, and she shakes her head, looking both furious and heartbroken. “I thought I raised you better than this.” With that, she turns from the room, and my entire soul crumbles into dust.

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“Am I a horrible person?” I ask, voice hollow. I am once again lying, exhausted, atop my comforter. It’s evening. And even though we were forced to spend hours together earlier, Kaleb insisted that after this afternoon, we needed to take advantage of our rule to spend time together tonight.

“Absolutely not.” Kaleb kicks off his pants as though my seeing him in his underwear isn’t a big deal at all. It isn’t of course. But it’s odd how little he cares about it as he pulls a pair of gray sweats out of his suitcase.