Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(45)

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Three days without a single glimpse of Wydell. She was torn about moving her trailer, because she didn’t want to look out the little bedroom porthole and see his broad form working on the tiny houses. On the other hand, not seeing him was a different kind of torment.

Stop. Her mental brakes hadn’t worked so far. She didn’t know why she kept saying it to herself.

Without meaning to, she looked up toward the site again. From what she could see, there was more than one peaked roof up there, which meant Wydell and Garrett were making good progress.

She spun away and picked up the coffee mug off the draining towel. She set about filling her French press and readied her mug with the heated cream and sugar the way she preferred it.

She would not go up there and see how things were going. She didn’t need to.

But it was her investment. It was silly to hand the power over to somebody else without any oversight. If she wanted things done her way, she needed to be hands on with the project.

After the coffee was prepared, she sank to the booth seat and just stared at her mug. The cream swirled on the surface, not quite mixed.

Like me and Wydell. As much as they’d come together, they hadn’t really meshed. Something was missing.

She took a sip of coffee and sighed. At least she had this one indulgence. Lately she was having trouble finding things from her old life that gave her happiness. Staying in touch with old friends had gotten difficult after she’d inherited. Not to mention those bastards at the newspaper…

Her financial advisor had left her several messages, which she was ignoring. What could he want anyway? She didn’t have anything to say to her old family friend if he was trying to warn her about her spending. After all, she had enough in her account to fund several vacation home projects as well as build churches and homes for more Los Vista residents. She didn’t need him to release funds for her.

No, she wasn’t acting cowardly by avoiding him. Well at least she wasn’t admitting it today.

She dragged in a deep breath of the clean country air and noted the beauty around her. Los Vista, though she had no idea how, had begun to feel more and more like home. Maybe it was finally doing something worthwhile that had caused it, but she had a feeling it was more about the people.

Danica had stopped by with home-baked muffins yesterday and they’d sat in her Airstream for hours talking like best friends. The Kent children were turning up so often that their mother had to come and drag them home. Mrs. Fletcher and some other older ladies left in the community were scheming ways to get her to head their women’s guild. To them, her staying was a foregone conclusion.

And Wydell…

She stared in his direction, at the two peaked roofs, and her chest tightened. The past three days had taught her one thing she didn’t want to admit to herself.

She loved him.

The word had never made her want to run before. Because I’ve never loved someone as annoying as Wydell. But the heart did what it wanted, and hers was obviously wayward. Or a masochist.

All her life, Anya had done what was asked of her. She’d appeased her mother by parading in pageants and given her father hopes that she’d become a champion horse jumper. She’d gone for a degree in business because of her granddaddy’s encouragement.

But now that she had the freedom to make her own decisions, she chose Wydell? What was wrong with her?

With a shake of her head, she started walking down the road. Weeds grew up between the cracks without any traffic to tamp them down. The sun heated the cotton on her shoulders, and she turned her face up.

Stretching her legs felt good. She had to admit she was getting a little tired of sleeping in her nook. Tonight she might try sleeping under the stars as she and Wydell had in his truck.

Memories of their shared night sent goosebumps racing over her skin. He’d looked at her with so much intensity and emotion in his eyes. For the past three days she’d been trying to analyze what those long looks meant, but she had no idea. Did anybody really know Wydell?

Nearing the site, she listened to the music of saws and hammers. When she turned the corner and faced the two tiny homes, she gasped.

Then she looked closer, and gasped again.

Her jaw dropped open as her gaze ran along a very long roofline—one that hadn’t been there three days ago. Or in the plans.

“Wydell!” Her bellow seemed to rise from a pit deep inside herself.

He popped his head out a side window. She bit her lip almost in half. Why did he have to look so damn kissable when she wanted to beat him over the head with a two-by-four?

She stomped toward the house, and he jerked his head back inside. “Don’t you dare hide from me!”

He appeared a second later on the small, finished front porch of the first house. Legs braced apart, arms folded and his jeans hanging oh-so-low.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

His heavy stare traveled over her body, starting at her hair. He held her eyes for a heartbeat before letting his attention slip over her breasts, belly, hips.

Her thigh muscles clenched at the urge to wrap around him again and pull him deep into her body. She fought to regain control, and this time won.

“Wydell, I’m going to ask you one more time. What. Did. You. Do?”

He swept his arm wide. “Made some changes. Come inside and I’ll show you.”