Chapter 89

The proud angel picked herself up, nose in the air and walked to her seat without a word until now. Not even a look, or a flirty gesture. He ought to be glad she had taken the hint and stayed away from him. 

He groaned and grabbed a pillow to bury his face in. Shit! Shit! Shit!

He wasn't happy. He couldnt figure out why he wasn't grateful that she no longer bothered him. I'm either stupid or mentally unstable at this point. Tired and knowing he would not fall asleep soon, he left his bed and walked to the backyard. It was lit up with an electric bulb and had a simple wood carving table that held his toolbox and fresh logs of wood. He grabbed a piece of wood he had been working on, and his grim face morphed into one of contentment and peace as he got lost in the sweet scent of basswood. 

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