Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(12)

“Like I said, looks good to me. I’ll make a supply list and we can run into town after them.”

“Why not have the supplies delivered?” She was doing it again—twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.

“We’re pretty far out and the delivery fees will run high.”

“So?”

He shrugged. “It’s your money. But my guess is whoever left you all that dough didn’t build it by squandering.”

“We can deal in bulk. One trip in a flatbed will be much less than many trips in your truck.” After she spoke, a pink flush spread over her throat and face. Avoiding his stare, she made a few more notes he suspected were for a distraction, not real.

He stood and his boot cracked off the support leg of the booth. “Dammit. We need to get a bigger place to hold meetings.”

She was instantly defensive. “There’s nothing wrong with my trailer.”

“Sure, it’s huge if you work in a circus and are used to jumping out of a little car with nine of your best friends.” Cracking a smile, he tapped the paper close enough to her hand to feel her heat run along his fingers. Leaning over her and dragging in a breath of her sweet scent could become a habit if he wasn’t careful.

“Where are you going now? To make the list?” she asked.

“No, I’ve gotta finish this lot and start on the next.”

Her face was tipped up to his. If he lowered his lips a few scant inches, he could brush a kiss over her perfectly glossy pout. He sucked on his lower lip and released it, but she followed the action, her cheeks even pinker.

“When will we meet about this?” she asked.

He pointed out the door. “After I’ve finished for the day.”

“Will Garrett be joining you?”

He straightened, irritation dumped over his system. “Yeah. We’re a team.” He stared ahead but didn’t see anything but he and Garrett shoulder-to-shoulder, manning a big gun.

A feathery touch on his forearm jerked him back to reality, and he looked into Anya’s blue eyes. “Maybe you need an afternoon nap.”

He swung for the door. “Would if I could.” He stomped outside to get to work. They drove away his demons, but right now he was more eager to put some distance between himself and the woman who was taking up too much of his thoughts.





Chapter Three


The whole town turned out for the groundbreaking. They stood in a ragtag half-circle around the backhoe—all twenty-eight of them. Pastor Kent’s children bounced up and down like popcorn in a kettle. The youngest kept toddling toward the giant wheels hoping to touch one and had to be dragged back and finally pinned in his mother’s hold.

Anya smiled at each happy face. This was exactly what she’d hoped for by coming to Los Vista. The townspeople held a light of hope in their eyes, and she, along with Wydell’s vision, had put it there.

Okay, so he still wasn’t very happy about building tiny houses, but it seemed in the past few days they’d come to an understanding.

Wydell stood off to the side with some men who were almost as large as him. Garrett she already knew but she hadn’t been introduced to the others, or the striking brunette who hung close to them.

Anya watched the woman carefully. She spoke to the guys as if she’d known them all for years. When she bumped shoulders with Wydell he said something to her and they both laughed.

Looking away, Anya focused on the people closest to her. She’d gotten to know a few of them, and Mrs. Fletcher had invited her in for a cold drink after she’d seen Anya strolling the barren streets one evening. Since she’d recently gotten a new trailer, they spent the next hour comparing styles and comforts. Anya had also shared her latest annoyances with the press. They were calling her phone at all hours looking to set up interviews. And she had a feeling before long that they’d be popping into town.

Chatter increased as the backhoe operator hopped into the cab with a huge grin, ready to get started. Anya clasped her hands and bounced on her toes. Across the distance, she caught Wydell staring at her. A spike of excitement hit her belly and continued much, much lower. As soon as she offered a smile, he broke from his group and crossed the lot to her.

The man didn’t walk—he strutted. Every part of him seemed to move independently, but as a whole they were something to behold. Everything about him was chiseled, hard and downright lickable.

Wait. She had no business thinking such a thing. Not now. She redirected her attention from his thighs straining against his jeans to his face.

That was worse.

He looked as though he could eat her alive. This intense stare was nothing like the one where he seemed to drift off in his own thoughts. She steeled herself to keep from falling over as he reached her side.

“Big day.”

“Yes,” she answered. The people cheered as the backhoe scoop lifted and poised.

“You should say a few words.”

His suggestion made her mental wheels jam. “What? Me?”

“Sure. This is all your doing, sweetheart. I mean Anya.” The way he corrected himself made her think he might be distancing himself for a reason. Like the beautiful brunette he’d been talking to.

She looked toward the woman, who’d attached herself to one of the men. He slid an arm around her waist and tugged her close. She whispered something into his ear, then kissed him on the lips.