Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(8)

“This isn’t what I had in mind.”

That stopped his mind’s wanderings dead in its tracks. “Alright. What’re you thinkin’?”

Excitement lit her eyes and she scooted from the booth. He knew he shouldn’t twist to see her walk the few steps to the living area, but he couldn’t help himself.

That ass…Jesus, it was crack to a junkie jonesing for a hit. He shifted to ease the ache of his cock just as she returned to the table with a computer tablet.

When she thrust the screen in front of him, he shook his head. “Are those outhouses?”

That drew a huff of annoyance. “Of course not. They’re tiny houses.”

He screwed up his face. “They’re tiny for sure.” The last word came out as “sho” and she looked at him as though she didn’t understand. “For sure,” he said, infusing his voice with the inflection she was probably accustomed to.

She pushed out a noise that was almost a snort. “This is the wave of the future in the housing market. People are going smaller, becoming more aware of the energy it takes to power a larger house.” She tapped the screen. “This is our project.”

He met her stare head on, wondering if she’d flipped her pretty blonde lid. “You’re telling me that people want to buy these itty bitty houses and live in them?”

“Why, yes.”

“And you think there’s a market for them here?” He started laughing. He couldn’t help it.

Her wrinkled pert nose told him she wasn’t amused. “I’m totally serious.”

“I know you are, which is what makes it funnier. Look, lady, I don’t know where you come from, but nobody’s going to buy a house the size of an egg.”

“They are not the size of eggs.” Damn, she was pretty when angry. Pink-cheeked with fire in her wide blue eyes.

“Sweetheart, if you lined up twelve, you’d have a carton.”

“Ugh. You’re being so narrow-minded. Don’t you see? Each house is a minimal investment. Not as much money because there aren’t many supplies needed. We can build a lot of them in a short amount of time.”

Ah, so she wanted in and out of town quick. Probably better.

“You don’t need to stick around while they’re being built. Just put some funds in an account or give me your address to ship you the invoices and—”

Her half-scream, half-growl echoed through her own tiny space. Her stare sliced into him, but he wasn’t so easily cut down. Not when he wanted to pull her into his lap and grind into her nice and slow.

“I am not here to act as your bank!”

He drew a deep breath of the cookie-scented air. “Why are you here, Anya?”

“Because I saw your town and knew I could do some good. And I will. With tiny houses. Hipsters have a lot of income, and that’s our target market. If we bring them into Los Vista, your town will have a reason to rebuild. Isn’t that what you want?”

He couldn’t respond. There were no words.

“Hipsters? Don’t you mean hamsters?”

“Ugh. Not funny. Now go and draw up some smaller plans for me.”

He slowly unfolded himself from the booth and took his time to gather his plans. “You’re set on this?”

She all but stomped her foot. “I am.” When she lifted her stubborn little pointed jaw, his cock stretched another fraction. Too bad she was such a pain in the ass.

“Fine. Tiny houses. For hipsters.” He yanked open the door, almost pulling it off the hinges, and stormed away from the silver Twinkie as fast as his boots could carry him.

Mother of pearl, what was he getting himself into?



*



Anya moved to the small window over the kitchen sink and breathed the country air. It was filled with the scent of growing things, and she’d always loved freshly mowed grass and the smell of earth being tilled up for planting. Her family had employed several gardeners, and she’d spent many summers following them around.

She needed a deeper breath. She went to the door and swung it wide. Los Vista really was stunning. The land rolled beneath a blazing sky of orange and pink. She sucked in a deep breath, somehow feeling at home in a trailer in a strange place.

Since she’d seen the town on TV, she’d felt a sort of kinship with the people who lived here.

Well, except Wydell. That man was a real piece of work. While beautiful to look at—her hormones had a party every time she saw him—he’d treated her with as much disrespect and disdain as some of the people she’d encountered after receiving her inheritance.

He viewed her as nothing but a wallet, but he was going to listen to her plans if he wanted to save his town.

When she looked toward the lot where he’d been working all day, she couldn’t help but picture him there, big muscles straining to clear the debris. The wind freshened, and she saw some yellow wisps blowing. Flowers.

Out of the rubble comes beauty.

Leaving her door open, she left the trailer and meandered across the lot. As she reached the tall green stems with dainty yellow flowers, she smiled to herself. She finally had a use for those built-in vases.

She spent several minutes collecting the blooms. With a bunch in hand, she returned to her trailer, and found it was already inhabited.

It seemed a big bull had pushed his way inside.