Abbie Zanders [Zanders - The Realist

The Realist

C larissa

Earth to Rissa. Travis deep voice rolled through me like a wave, tugging me away from my reflections. His shortened address felt warm, intimate. No one had ever called me that before. If youre finished ogling me, Im going to head back to my place.

I felt the heat rise in my face. Yes, I had been ogling him, but Id zoned out for the last couple of minutes. I dont know what bothered me more the fact that hed caught me in the act or that Id wasted several minutes of prime ogling time.

Im done, I said casually, waving my hand in a shooing gesture. You can go now.

He grinned cockily. Lasagna.

What?

Thats what I want for dinner. Lasagna. With lots of meat and that chunky homemade sauce of yours.

I blinked, looking at him blankly.

Our deal, he reminded me. You get manual labor. I get food. Your roof is fixed. And Im hungry for lasagna.

Right, I nodded. I knew that. I did.

He leaned down and petted Ripper, the stray mongrel that had become my shadow. The scent of clean male sweat and heat-activated deodorant tickled my nose and I discreetly filled my lungs with it.

Ill be back around sundown. And Rissa?

Yeah?

Dont stare at my ass while Im walking away. Its objectifying.

I openly gaped at him, but he just winked and strutted yes, strutted out of my kitchen like a big male peacock.

I showed him, though. I stared at his ass the whole way.

Before You Begin

W ARNING: The Realist is first and foremost a love story. However, due to occasional strong language and steamy scenes of a sexual nature, this book is intended for mature (18+) readers only.

Prologue

C larissa

Human beings really are extraordinary creatures. We are the only known species that can alter our perceptions at will to deal with our realities.

Feeling lonely? You just havent met the right one.

Lose your job? Its an opportunity to do something else.

Depressed about getting older? Dont worry, theres a cream, lotion, or scrub that will reduce those fine lines and wrinkles.

I could go on, but you get the point. What we dont like, we rationalize and somehow always manage to convince ourselves that it is not our fault.

I know what youre probably thinking Im a pessimist, a glass is half-empty kind of girl. Im not. Im a realist . And because I look past all of the facades and see and accept things for what they truly are, Ill venture that I appreciate things more than you do.

Or maybe its because each day is a gift I didnt expect to have.

It doesnt matter, really. Im here now, and doing just fine, thanks.

Chapter 1

C larissa

I swung the ax, feeling the power ripple through my arms, down my back, through my core, and into my hips, fighting the urge to grunt. The sound that came out of my mouth was much softer, much more feminine than that.

I didnt split the log down the middle, but I did create a nice crack. One or two more mighty swings and the pieces would be just the perfect size for the hearth. My aim had improved dramatically over the last few months, so I was fairly confident I could pull it off. To be sure, though, I choked up my grip on the handle a little. Doing so would reduce the power, but increase my precision.

Youll get more power if you hold it near the end of the handle.

I didnt acknowledge the deep male voice of my sinfully gorgeous neighbor, echoing my thoughts. I held fast to the belief that if I ignored him, he would go away. I redistributed my weight, hefted the ax back above my right shoulder, focused on my task, and let loose. It landed exactly where I wanted it to, cleaving the dried maple in two.

I resisted the urge to turn around and smirk in triumph. He might view it as encouragement.

Picking up my two perfectly-sized pieces of firewood, I stacked them neatly on my ever-growing stockpile and reached for the next one.

Want some help? he asked.

My aching muscles screamed and whined to take him up on his offer. Travis Maxwell was well over six feet of solid male muscle and broad shoulders. He could probably make short work of the rest of it while I sat back, sipped a cold beer, and watched all those delicious muscles put on a show just for me.

But that would be wrong on so many levels, the most important of which being that I did not want him or his rippling muscles here. Nor his damn fine ass, which was probably the nicest-looking ass Id ever seen on a man. The man could make a living modeling snug-fitting blue jeans.

No.

I balanced the log on the much wider stump - the one that accurately portrayed my wood-chopping learning curve with its many cuts and gashes - and swung. This strike was off-center, but still much improved from when I had first started. Rather than grouse over the fact that I didnt hit the center line, I adjusted accordingly. This log would become thirds instead of halves, I decided.

I would never sweat the small stuff again.

If you plan on spending the winter here, youre going to need a hell of a lot more than that.

Surreptitiously, I eyed my beautiful stockpile of firewood, geometrically balanced and pretty enough to be featured in some magazine devoted to living in the great outdoors. It had taken me forever to do that much. Discovering that it was inadequate was disheartening, to say the least. My aching back, my throbbing leg, and my calloused and blistered hands agreed whole-heartedly.

The upside was that it was only mid-August. I had plenty of time.

Swing, hit. Swing, hit. I didnt give him the satisfaction of revealing my disappointment. Let him think I already knew how insufficient it was.

No one likes a chatty Kathy. Jesus, woman, let a man get a word in edgewise, will you?

Okay, my lips might have quirked a little on that one, but dont judge me. Travis Maxwell was a force of nature. Oh, his friendly banter seemed harmless enough, but even the gentlest stream had the ability to carve a path in solid rock, given enough time. Im a force of nature, too - a great, unyielding glacier. I cant help it that my neighbor had global warming written all over him.