Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(30)

But today they were building the roof of the tiny house, and she had construction work to oversee at the Kents’.

Very slowly, he withdrew from her. She curled onto her side on the bench while he disposed of his condom. When he turned to see her beautiful curves and the look in her bright eyes, his heart gave a jolt.

Despite their differences, he liked her. Maybe more than liked.

That’s the hormones talking.

He wasn’t a man who spilled his seed and didn’t feel a connection afterward. Especially for a woman like Anya—a strong and bold woman who drove him just crazy enough to keep him coming back for more.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked sleepily.

He sank to the small edge of space on the cushion, and she moved her thigh to give him room. As he looked down at her, seeing the red marks on her throat, an animalistic need to possess invaded him.

He stroked her hair off her forehead, and she turned into his touch like an affectionate kitten.

His chest tightened. “What you’re doing for the Kents is unheard of,” he said.

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised.”

“I’m not, really. I know you’re not a spoiled rich girl.”

Her soft smile stole his damn heart—and soul.

Crap. We can’t be together. It’d never work.

“Thank you, Wydell. You’re not so bad yourself, when you aren’t insulting me or my trailer.”

He gave a crooked smile. “I was about to ask about that cupboard there.” He pointed to a miniature door no bigger than a tablet computer high on the wall.

“Why?”

“I know a family of hamsters who need a place to store their china. If you aren’t using the space—”

“Get out!” She shoved him off the bench. Laughing, he scrambled to his feet and started dressing while she lay there, naked and sprawling.

Once he was clothed, he went to the door and looked back at her. “I’ll see you at the house later, right?”

“Nothing could keep me away.”

“That’s my girl.” Before he could examine his words or see her reaction to them, he opened the door and hopped out.



*



Before Anya was fully dressed, she heard the door of her Airstream open again. She spun, the ruined bits of her top clutched to her bare breasts.

Wydell was silhouetted in the door, blotting out the sun—and sending her senses into a free-for-all.

“Umm, did you need something?” she asked. The expression he wore now didn’t match his parting words. That’s my girl. She’d laid for long minutes considering them, trying to fit them to herself and failing. They were two different jigsaw puzzles tossed into a box together, and nobody could piece them together in any semblance of order.

Once in a while, two parts meshed together before realizing they didn’t really go.

“What I said just then…” His jaw worked but he didn’t complete his sentence.

“Yeah?” She wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Why should she?

“It was just an expression.”

“Okay, I get it.”

He scuffed his knuckles across his upper lip, creating a noise that prickled the hairs on her arms. Damn, why did her body have to sit up and beg for everything about his? In bed, they were well-matched. Outside of it, where it counted, they agreed about as much as a cat and dog.

“I mean, it just slipped out. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “It was a mistake.”

She placed her hand on her hip, dropping her top. One breast slipped out, and he stared at it. Quickly, she clutched the cloth over her nakedness.

“You don’t need to explain. You’re right. It was mistake, just like all the others. Which is why I’m never going to let you near me again.” Fury hit her as though she’d slammed into a brick wall. And right now, talking to Wydell felt just as intelligent and productive.

She pushed past him at the door. He stepped aside and she descended the steps. After slamming the door, she stood there for a second, gathering her wits.

When the soft breeze caressed the side of her bare breast, she jerked back to reality. Looking around frantically and praying one of the town kids wasn’t wandering nearby to see her, she grasped the top to her chest and ripped open the trailer door again.

Wydell stood there, amusement carved across his face.

“This is my trailer. Get out.”

Without a word, he squeezed his big body out of her Airstream. For a moment she watched him cross the turf, headed toward his abandoned truck back at the Kents’. The construction zone milled with busy people, and she had no doubt that by the end of the day, they would see the bones of the home and parish.

How stupid of her to fall into Wydell’s arms again. What was the matter with her? Sure, he was a stud in bed. He’d given her more orgasms than most of the guys in her past put together. But that didn’t make up for the fact that he was an infuriating, insulting jerk.

“Beauty queen,” she huffed under her breath, slamming the door with so much force that a few pictures on her wall tilted.

She glared at them and dropped her top. Stomping bare-breasted to the back of the trailer, she rummaged around a drawer until she found a clean tank top. Not bothering with a bra, she yanked it on and then went into her small, tidy bathroom. There, she slathered her arms, neck, and face in sunscreen.