Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(26)

It was Wydell’s turn to roll his eyes, but he set to work. Anya stood back and watched, unable to tear her her focus from the muscles rolling on Wydell’s back. Danica talked and Anya watched. After about ten minutes, a dark patch of perspiration appeared between Wydell’s shoulder blades.

Anya crushed her fingers into fists. What she wouldn’t give to peel that shirt off him and make him sweatier. Last night had been awesome in so many ways. While he’d been buried deep in her, she’d let herself see a new side of Wydell—a softer, protective, giving side.

Now he was just being a…hard ass, just like the others called him. If he was stubborn now when he didn’t have men to lead, she could only imagine the flack he’d given his fellow soldiers.

“Oh hey, look who just rolled outta bed.” Brodie’s drawl brought Anya’s attention from Wydell, and she found the newcomer looking at her. As tall and broad as his buddies, the one they called Boyd wore his black hat tipped lower than the others. As if he was hiding something.

She noted how he kept looking at her, but she wasn’t interested in luring another cowboy to her bed. She’d gotten her fill last night.

What a lie. I’d have him right now if he were up for it.

The guys got into a ring, fists extended. They bumped knuckles and then went through several handshake rituals. Danica folded her arms, amusement playing over her features, but also something sad.

When she caught Anya staring, she composed herself and the sadness vanished. “They always do that. It’s some Marine Corps secret handshake.” As they looked on, the guys turned into a perfectly straight line and saluted in the direction of the park.

Understanding struck Anya. When she first drove into town she’d seen the monument there with the name of a man who’d lost his life fighting for freedom: Matthew Pope. She’d walked around it a few times, wondering at the man who’d been friends or family with the others she’d met.

Danica gave a sniffle. “He was my brother. Their leader. Last year the guys made this monument happen, and…” She sniffed again. “I’m sorry. I’m getting all sappy—it hasn’t been that long since we lost him.”

The men sharply dropped their arms to their sides and relaxed into their duties. Anya felt choked up too. She’d never seen anything so beautiful as their display of honor.

Placing a hand on Danica’s forearm, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Now, I don’t know about you, but I came to help build this house.” She wore a tool belt slung low on her hips. As she removed her hammer and swayed her hips toward her husband, he looked up. Something passed between them, a hunger Anya had felt on several occasions between herself and Wydell.

He wasn’t paying any mind to her, though. He barked orders, and the others got busy. Anya had little idea what she could do to help, but Danica was right—she’d come here to work.

She crowded between and the guys and Garrett started talking to her immediately. He showed her how to use the saw and let her make the first cuts. Then he arranged the boards to frame the front door.

Excitement latched onto Anya and wouldn’t let go. She lost herself in the rhythm of working alongside these great men. Someone yelled out “Clear!” and an exploding pop made her look up.

Without warning, she was struck by a massive bull of a cowboy. She and Wydell hit the ground, rolling. She blinked, eyes watering. Panic hit as she found her lungs totally empty. She couldn’t breathe.

“Oh shit, sweetheart. Take a breath. It’s okay, you knocked the wind out of yourself.” Wydell’s eyes were a similar shade to the sky around him.

She fought to fill her lungs, curling on her side and flailing. Wydell cradled her face. “I got you, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

With a horrible screeching sound, she sucked in enough air to fill her lungs. She did it again, just because it felt so good after the suffocating feeling.

His thumbs at the corners of her lips, Wydell gave her a relieved smile. “See? You’re all right.”

She balled her fist and punched him in the jaw. Too late she realized she should aim for a much softer spot. Wheezing in pain and shaking her fist, she said, “What the hell was that for?”

“I…” His throat worked, and his neck mottled red. “Boyd fired a nail your direction..”

“Are you all right? I was just testing the air pressure,” Boyd hollered. “It ain’t loaded.”

For the second time, he’d reacted to a nonexistent threat and thrown her down to protect her. The pulse in his throat beat wildly, and she knew if she put her palm over his heart, she’d feel it skipping.

Covering his hand with hers, she said, “I’m okay. It’s okay, Wydell.”

He blinked a few times as if gathering his wits about him. Then he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Just stay far away from Boyd. He’s good with a machine gun but can’t figure out how to use a nail gun.” He raised his voice so Boyd heard him.

Nonplussed, the man grinned from beneath his black hat and proceeded to shoot several boards together. Anya stood to the side as the first wall was raised.

“Grab your hammer and do the honors,” Wydell said to her.

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“Get a handful of those nails. You’re going to toenail this wall into the floor.”