It had been a week since Liam arrived, but it felt like a year. No matter what I did, I felt watched—like unseen eyes followed my every move. And I didn't have to guess who they belonged to.
Liam.
He wasn't just watching. He was waiting. Waiting for me to slip, to prove him right—that I didn't belong here, that I was a danger to his family. It was suffocating.
Ella and Evans were still as warm as ever, but things weren't the same. Not because they had changed, but because I had. Or maybe because
Liam had.
The worst part? He wasn't even doing anything. I know how ridiculous that sounds. How does someone make your life unbearable without even speaking to you? But that was exactly it. Liam didn't acknowledge me. To him, I was either invisible or an unwanted guest overstaying my welcome. He never said it out loud, but I felt it in every glance, every sharp look, every heavy silence when we were in the same room.
One thing I'd learned about Liam was that he was always watching. He was quiet, unreadable, the kind of person who never let anything slip. Always wearing that cold, expressionless mask, as if emotions were a foreign concept to him. The air around him screamed don't mess with me or you'll regret it.
So I did the only thing I could—I avoided him.
And for the most part, it worked. And that's why I was here, chasing a damn chicken just to avoid Liam.
I barely saw him, but I always felt his presence. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch, an invisible weight pressing down on me. And apparently, thinking about him was enough to ruin my coordination because—
Flap!
The chicken flew straight over my head.
I lunged to catch it, but in the process, I tripped over my own feet, lost my balance, and—
Splat.
Face-first into the mud.
I groaned, pushing myself up, only to realize I was completely covered. I looked like a swamp monster, minus the horns but definitely with the stench. Great. Just great.
This was all Liam's fault. If I hadn't been thinking about him, I would've focused, and none of this would have happened. See? This was what I meant when I said he was making my life miserable—without even trying.
Shaking off as much mud as I could, I stomped toward the house. I needed to clean up before Ella saw me and had a heart attack.
As I reached the corner of the house, I decided to wash off some of the mess before heading inside. The stench was unbearable. Unfortunately, I was so focused on scrubbing off the mud that I didn't sense him until I stepped inside—
And came face to face with Liam's unreadable expression.
Speak of the devil.
His sharp gaze flickered over me, and then he sniffed the air slightly before grimacing. "What's that smell?"
I rolled my eyes. "Gee, I don't know, Liam. Maybe the fresh scent of nature?"
His nose wrinkled in disgust. "You smell like something died."
I scoffed and walked past him, already predicting where this conversation was going. The second I did, he shifted uncomfortably.
Then—
"Jesus Christ, Sara, did you fall into a pile of sh—"
"Ha-ha. Hilarious," I cut in before he could finish. I didn't stick around to hear more. I was already halfway up the stairs when I heard him muttering something under his breath, but I was too unbothered to care.
I stripped off my mud-caked clothes and went straight to the bathroom, my skin and the poor soap paying the price for my clumsiness. I scrubbed my body and hair relentlessly, determined to erase any trace of that awful stench. By the time I was done, I smelled fresh, felt clean, and was in desperate need of a distraction.
Ella had gotten me some new clothes—a collection of sundresses, shorts, skirts, and simple shirts. Cute, but definitely on the modest side. Lucky for me, I knew how to work with any outfit, turning even the plainest piece into something eye-catching. I had a knack for pairing colors and styles, and today, I wanted something... fun.
I pulled out a black miniskirt and a fitted white top that barely reached my navel, leaving my waistline and bellybutton exposed. Perfect. I was done with farm chores for the day, and right now, I needed a drink. And what better place to get it than the winery?
Technically, I was banned from there.
But let's be real—why do you think I was wearing a miniskirt and a cropped top? Do the math.
I had... friends there. Friends or guys with hopeless crushes on me—it was all the same. As long as I flashed a smile, they gave me what I wanted.
Men.
I stepped out of my room and into the hallway. As I entered the living room, I noticed someone standing there. Stepping closer, I recognized him.
Jack.
Interesting. What was he doing here? Today wasn't market day.
"Jack," I called.
He turned at the sound of my voice, and just like that, his face turned bright red. Oh, I do love having that effect on people.
"S-Sara," he stammered, eyes darting everywhere except at me.
I tilted my head, smirking. "What are you doing here?" I took a slow step closer, watching him squirm.
"I, uh... I have a message for Mr. Evans," he said, voice uneven.
"Well, he's not here. He's out at the farm," I replied, watching as his gaze flickered downward for a second.
Oh.
I caught him. He was checking me out.
I grinned. "Jack... are you checking me out?" My voice dipped slightly, teasing. I shifted my weight to one hip, making sure he noticed.
"What? N-No! I—" He practically choked on his words, his face somehow turning an even deeper shade of red.
I sighed dramatically, pouting. "That's a little disappointing," I murmured, stepping even closer, my fingertips grazing the hem of his shirt. "You make it sound like I'm not worth looking at."
His eyes widened. "No! That's not what I meant! You're—you're definitely worth looking at."
I bit back a smile. "Oh?"
Jack swallowed hard, clearly regretting his choice of words. His back hit the wall as I closed the distance between us. He was trapped now, and he knew it.
Slowly, I raised a hand and traced an invisible line down his chest. His breath hitched.
Got him.
Jack's breathing turned shallow, his entire body stiff against the wall as I dragged my fingers down his chest. Slow. Teasing. Just enough to make him suffer. I let my fingers hover just above his skin, close enough that he could feel the heat but not close enough to give him what he wanted. His breath hitched. He was waiting for it, needing it. And that's exactly why I didn't touch him.
He was trembling. God, this was too easy.
I tilted my head, letting my fingertips trail even lower, just above his belt. The way his stomach tensed beneath my touch sent a thrill through me. His breathing hitched—short, ragged gasps as he clenched his fists like he was trying to hold onto the last shreds of his sanity.
"Relax, Jack," I murmured, dragging my nails lightly over the fabric of his shirt. "You look like you're about to explode."
"I—" He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes darted away, like he was too scared to look at me.
I smirked. Pathetic.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, pressing closer, my hand hovering at the waistband of his jeans but never quite touching. "You were checking me out earlier. Where's that confidence now?"
He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body locking up. "Sara, don't—"
"Don't what?" I asked, my fingers dancing along his lower stomach, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin material. "Don't make you weak?"
His hands twitched like he wanted to grab me—whether to stop me or pull me closer, I didn't know. But he didn't move. Didn't push me away.
He couldn't.
His back was against the wall, his body betraying him, his breath coming in uneven pants.
I owned him in this moment.
I leaned in just enough to let my breath ghost over his ear. "You're so tense, Jack," I purred. "Maybe I should help you loosen up."
A strangled sound tore from his throat. He was done. His restraint was cracking, his whole body screaming for relief.
And then—
Boom.