Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(38)

They made out all her decisions to be silly and flippant. She was squandering Granddaddy’s hard-earned money on a hopeless ghost town, and her idea of building tiny houses was an obvious bust. Apparently everybody thought she was incapable of using the brain she’d been given. That had changed her whole view on things that morning.

She pulled her hands away from Wydell and avoided his gaze.

“Hey.” He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to look into her eyes. His brows drew downward. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Thanks for the bandages.” She bounced to her feet. But before she could take a single step, he had her pinned to his chest. He was warm and smelled of clean cotton. God, he felt too good to move away from. And he hadn’t been snarky to her once while fixing up her hands.

Still, they were no good together. This morning was a prime example. Their bodies got on just fine. Better than fine, amazingly. But in the end, he didn’t respect her. He would never stop thinking of her as a princess. Given how she didn’t have the common sense to wear gloves during hard labor, maybe he was right. She wasn’t cut out for this rough town. Her money was the only thing that could help here.

Removing herself from his hold, she hurried out the door. She threw a wave at the guys and had a quick word with Danica before jumping into her truck. She started the engine and backed out, trying not to look at Wydell standing on the porch looking as if his puppy had just run away.

Let him look. I’m not somebody to like on his terms. He either likes me or doesn’t.

She had no intention of letting him close to her again. They had to work together, but after the project was completed, she’d pull her trailer out of town.

Then what? Thought of returning to that big, lonely house she’d inherited left a hollow feeling in her chest. She’d felt her spirit stir the minute she’d set eyes on Los Vista. Leaving would wrench her.

Never seeing Wydell again would too.

Crap, this was worse than she imagined. Somehow her lust had morphed into a strange butterfly sensation around her heart.



*



When Anya showed up to work on the house wearing thick leather work gloves, Wydell couldn’t help but grin.

Damn, she looked good too. Curves for miles in those skinny jeans and a loose plaid top that made him happy because Boyd and Garrett wouldn’t be staring at her quite so much.

“Hi,” she said quietly as she pulled a hammer out of the pink tool belt slung around her round hips.

“Hi. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’ve been letting my hands heal before coming over. And someone has to work out the funding for this project. And the press has been driving me nuts. Have you seen the trucks driving through? And I swear I heard a chopper earlier. Wow—you’ve really made some progress since I’ve been here.” She tipped her head back and looked at the enclosed home. All two-hundred square feet of it. Actually, the place was almost completed. They were just waiting on some pieces to finish the bathroom.

“How are your hands?”

She held one up and flexed her fingers. “Fine. Did you fix the bathroom?”

He tried not to get his ire up at mention of their point of contention. She poked her head around the kitchen wall and then jerked back, blinking at him. “Oh! I forgot. I just got a shipment delivered and the items are in the back of my truck.”

“Let’s have a look.” He clapped his gloves together and squeezed through the door. What he wouldn’t give to throw out a ballroom wing onto this little place. When they put the house on the market, they’d have to state people under a certain height and weight shouldn’t bother coming to view the home.

He almost laughed at the train of thought. And then gulped it back when he eyed Anya in front of him.

She wiggled her fine little ass all the way back to her truck. For days he’d been burning for a glimpse of her. Hell, she’d haunted his dreams when he managed to sleep and he’d added more than a few grunts to the noises of barn animals as he took his cock in his fist and finished the dreams.

With a flourish, Anya lowered her tailgate. He stepped up to it and stared at the few porcelain rectangles lying there. “Horse troughs? Those’re small.”

“No, Wydell.”

Now why did her tone sound flat and pissed off?

“They’re bathtubs.”

“What? Who the hell could fit in there?” Certainly not a strapping Texan.

“An adult can fit if you bring your knees up.” She looked up at Wydell. “Well, most adults. Besides, you can stand in it and shower too.”

“Good Lord.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and slammed the tailgate again, narrowly missing his fingers. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Only pain in the ass you’d get is if you sit in that tub. Maybe we can use it as a breadbox instead. Hey, where ya going?”

He trailed behind her, laughing at first. But then he caught the irritating blades of a chopper again. He hadn’t realized until Anya’s comment that it was a news crew, probably taking images from the air but now swooping close to the ground. She tipped her head back to look at them, annoyance clear on her face as dust swirled nearby.

All he saw was a fellow Marine walking away, only to be shot down. His heart beat too fast, and he couldn’t breathe through the hot sand that seemed to be suffocating him.