The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(26)

Her tone was hard. “You want me on this job? Fine. Dandy. Good. Then I’m in charge here, not you. You got a problem with the way I handle things? Fire me and get someone else.”

He leaned down, his face so close to hers they were almost kissing. “Do you really want me to can you? Because I will. In a heartbeat.”

They glared at each other, the air crackling.

He lifted her hand by the wrist. Twisting it around, he inspected the black-and-blue mark on the back. “How’d you get this?”

“None of your business.”

“How many others are there? And where?”

“Listen up, big man,” she said in a low voice. “Over the last week, I’ve stripped three bathrooms, taken up a thousand square feet of hardwood, disconnected dozens of electrical sockets and removed countless lights. If your point is that I’m a klutz or I don’t know what I’m doing, you’re dead wrong. The men have contusions and cuts, too. It’s part of the job. A job I’m damn good at, by the way.”

His eyes stared down at her, the irises so dark they were nearly black. She expected him to cut her to shreds with that sharp tongue of his and she was prepared to meet him head-on with some choice slices of her own.

Instead he stayed quiet until she was ready to jump out of her skin.

She couldn’t stand it any longer.

“So are you canning me, or what?” she demanded. “Because if you aren’t, you need to remember something. This is not your boat. I’m the boss here. If you can’t handle that, then don’t come into White Caps again until the project’s finished.”

His eyes narrowed even further and she thought he was going to kick her out on her butt, she really did. He was that angry.

And then all the emotion sucked out of his face, as if he’d opened a drain somewhere. The self-control struck her as eerie and intimidating.

He dropped her arm and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t take unnecessary risks. Truly. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re right. Because you’re not my problem. Or my responsibility.” He walked over to the door. “Thank you for reminding me.”

As the plastic flap fell back into place behind him, Cass felt as if she’d been dropped at the side of the highway and abandoned. Which was nuts. She didn’t appreciate his chest-thumping routine, so why should she feel let down when he cut it out?

Not my problem.

She closed her eyes.

Funny, what bothered her most was the reminder that he saw her as nothing more than an irritation. After the dinner they’d had, she’d thought she might have broken through to him just a little.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

*

Alex forced himself to stay away from the house for the whole week. He figured it was a good idea to give them both a chance to cool down.

Cassandra was right, of course. It was her job, her crew, her profession. He had no right to stick his nose into her business. God knew, if someone had come onto his boat and tried to tell him what do, he’d have tossed them overboard in a heartbeat. All things considered, she’d handled the intrusion a lot better than he would have.

Especially given the number of power tools she’d had at her disposal.

The thing was, he hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time. He’d gone down to the house because he’d been unable to stay away any longer and he was curious about what they were doing with the truck. He’d walked into the kitchen, caught a quick glimpse of her about five feet from that straining rope, and he’d totally lost it. What he’d wanted to do was take her into his arms, but that would have been inappropriate. So he’d yelled at her instead.

Something that was equally uncalled for.

The sound of truck engines turning over had him looking at his watch. Three o’clock. The men were leaving for the weekend.

Picking up his cane, he didn’t bother with a coat as he headed for the door. He owed Cassandra a better apology than the one he’d given her and he needed to get the groveling over with.

As he hobbled down to the house, he pictured her rising up on tiptoe so she could meet him in the eye and keep arguing with him. Not many people fought to get closer to him when he was pissed off. His crew tended to duck and cover when his temper got pounding, and even Reese had backed away.

Cassandra’s strength as she’d met him head-on had been a surprise. He’d always known she was lovely and smart, but had never considered her tough. Naturally, the hard edge turned him on even more. He could appreciate lovely. He could respect smart. But strong made him tingle all over.

As if his libido needed the help when it came to her.

When he got to the house, he pulled back the plastic sheet and stepped into the kitchen. Cassandra was bent over the propane heater, shutting it off.

“Hey.”

She wheeled around, putting her hand to her throat. After a quick glance at his face, her eyes refused to meet his. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“Have you come to check on our progress?” She picked up a clipboard, folded back a couple pages and made a note.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I owe you an apology.”

That got her attention. Her eyes shifted to his. “You mean for Monday? You already gave me one if memory serves.”