Love Language (The Aristocrat Diaries 1)

I also removed a few errant slugs who were hiding in and amongst the foliage. They were even less welcome than the weeds. I wished with all my heart that they would eat the weeds, if I was honest.

There were plenty of those.

“What are you doing?”

I squealed and dropped a giant slug onto my lap. “Ew!” I quickly retrieved it and put it in the wheelbarrow, then looked up at Miles. “You scared me.”

He stared at me. “What are you doing?”

I glanced down at the pile of weeds in the wheelbarrow. “Planting vegetables.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he tried not to smile. Sadly, I knew better, and it would take more than my exemplary wit to get Mr. Grumpy over there to smile.

“You’re doing my job.”

I sighed, tossing another weed into the barrow. “I know, but I need to destress, so I thought I’d do something useful and therapeutic.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “You find weeding therapeutic.”

“You don’t?” I questioned.

“Not particularly. It’s more tedious than anything.”

“You’re weird.”

“I don’t know a single person who enjoys weeding, and I know a great many gardeners.”

“Then they aren’t doing it correctly,” I argued. “What isn’t enjoyable about yanking out a weed? It’s like eating the heads off Jelly Babies.”

He stared at me for a moment. “Do you have a God complex?”

“I did spend an inordinate amount of time playing The Sims when I was younger,” I replied, tilting my head to the side. “That explains a lot.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, if you’re really enjoying yourself, it’s worse in the vegetable garden. Oxalis is threatening to take over the squash bed.”

“Are you giving me permission to play in your precious vegetable garden?”

He shrugged. “It’s your garden. I can’t stop you going anywhere.”

Huh.

“Can I go in the greenhouse?”

“You’re not going in my greenhouse.”

“You just said you can’t stop me going anywhere.”

“I didn’t mean the greenhouse when I said that.”

“But you didn’t exclude it, so I can go in it.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at me for a long moment. “Talking to you is exhausting.”

“I know. That’s probably why nobody is right now.” I plucked one last weed from the dahlias. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to play in the vegetable garden. While I loved roses and dahlias, there was something immensely satisfying about vegetable gardening.

The idea that you could plant a tiny seed at the beginning of spring and it would eventually grow into a plant strong and sustainable enough to produce things that you could actually eat…

It blew my mind every single time.

Miles followed me as I headed towards the vegetable area. “I’m going to regret asking this, but why is nobody talking to you?”

I sighed, picking up the little wheelbarrow and carrying it instead of wheeling it. I was going to hurt myself if I kept bending over to push it. Did I want to spill my woes to Miles? Not particularly, but he was actually talking to me like I existed and sue me for wanting the conversation to continue.

Yes, I had a schoolgirl crush on him. It was ridiculous. I knew that, yet I still had one.

It wasn’t my fault he was extraordinarily handsome with his blue eyes and his dark stubble on his jaw. Not to mention his muscles—gardening was a physical job, and boy, did it show.

Ahem.

Control yourself, Gabriella.

“I, uh…” I put the wheelbarrow down when we reached our destination and looked down at the pathways that were thick with hardened woodchip. “I’ve been secretly taking a horticulture course at the local college. Dad found out yesterday when my tutor called to say I’d left something behind. He’s furious.”

Miles’ brow furrowed. “Why would he be angry about that?”

“I don’t know if he’s angry about me doing it, per se, but more about the fact I kept it a secret.” I shifted uncomfortably. “But he hasn’t spoken to me since yesterday afternoon, so I couldn’t say.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“He’s not talking to me.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“Well, no, but—”

“There you are, then.” He grabbed his own gardening gloves and pulled them on. “You don’t know because you haven’t asked. Instead you’re hiding out here like a disgraced child because you’re afraid of the answer.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil, thank you.” I sniffed and looked away as he shook his head.

He was right, though, wasn’t he? I could go to my father and clear this up in a heartbeat, but I was hiding out here in the garden because it was easier than confronting the truth.

That I’d been wrong to hide it.

I knew that. I’d known it all along, and now, as I thought about it, the only person who could end this stalemate was me.

I had to apologise for keeping it a secret.

“Can you handle that?” I pointed to my wheelbarrow. “I need to find my father.”