Only His (Fool's Gold #6)(23)

“That’s not me. I don’t find perfect appealing.”

“Okay. Then what is it?”

He was attractive, she thought. Normal. Lately her friends had been falling for normal, nice guys. She envied them.

“What happened?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Construction accident. Fell off the side of a bridge. Nearly broke every bone in my body. Took a long time to get better.”

She sensed there was more to the story. He must have spent weeks or months in the hospital, hundreds of hours in physical therapy.

“Do you have a lot of pain now?”

“I know when it’s going to rain, but I’m okay.” He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Want to see my scars?”

She found herself wanting to say yes. To tease him back, to let her guard down for a few minutes. To remember what it was to be like everyone else.

“Maybe another time.”

“I’m here for a couple of years. I have plenty of time.”

“But then you’ll go to a different project?”

He nodded. “Nature of the business. I’ve seen most of the world. Travel is exciting.”

“I prefer staying in one place,” she said, admitting a truth before she could stop herself. “It took a lot of looking to find this town.”

“What do you like about it?”

“The people. They’re very warm. As is the climate. It’s a great location.”

What she didn’t tell him was that here she was allowed to pretend it all was real. That she was just like everyone else, that her past had never happened. Here she was simply Jo, the owner of Jo’s Bar.

“So, show me,” he said. “I’m the new guy. Don’t I at least deserve a tour?”

She looked at him. For once, she was tempted to give in and flirt. To touch and be touched. It had been years since she’d been with a man. Years since she’d allowed herself to be that vulnerable. Last time the consequences had destroyed people. Because of her great need to love and be loved, a man had died.

“I can’t,” she said abruptly. “It’s not about you—it’s not personal. I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be.”

Will nodded slowly, then got up from the stool. He tossed a ten on the bar.

“The drink’s on the house,” she said stiffly.

“No, thanks. I only accept drinks from my friends.”

With that he left. She watched him limp out. When the door closed behind him, her stomach lurched and she wondered if she was going to throw up.

She’d hurt him, she knew that. Just as painful, she’d hurt herself. But she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t take a chance. This time, there would be too much to lose.

“I LOVE THIS TOWN,” Tucker said, as he closed the email. “They’ve approved our permits ahead of schedule.” He looked across the small trailer toward Nevada. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

“While I’d love to take credit, no. I’ve told you. Everyone is very excited about the project. You’re bringing jobs and tourists to the area. Where’s the bad?”

Her words made sense, but the ease with which everything was moving forward made him a little apprehensive. Every job he’d ever been on had problems. He preferred them to be up-front, so he could deal with them and move on.

“Don’t worry,” she told him.

“Worrying makes me good at my job.” He stood and crossed to the coffeepot. “Want some?” he said, holding up the full pot.

“Sure.”

She rose and carried her mug toward him. He moved toward her. She moved left, he moved right, which meant they went in the same direction and nearly bumped. She backed up with comical speed.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“You’re a little jumpy.”

“I’m not.” She sounded more defensive than indignant.

“It’s a small trailer. We’re going to bump into each other.”

“I’m aware of that and it’s not a problem.”

“You’re acting like it’s a problem.”

Defensiveness turned into annoyance. “You’re reading too much into the situation,” she snapped.

“Am I?”

Her chin rose. “You are.” She held out her mug. “Could I have my coffee, please?”

“I think you’re attracted to me and you don’t know how to handle it.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Are you insane?”

“I’ve never been evaluated by a professional, but I’m thinking no.”

“This is all about what happened before. We agreed to let that go.”

He filled her mug, set the pot back in place, then leaned against the corner of Will’s desk. Teasing her was more fun than he’d expected.

“I’m not the one who brought it up.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I wasn’t. But you have been. A lot.”

Color stained her cheeks. “Not in the way you think. You’re trying to prove something. Well, you can’t. I’m over you and—”

She stopped talking and pressed her lips together.

“Over me?”