Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(38)

She reached out a hand and brushed it against the warm metal, a breath of awe escaping her.

“What are you doing in here?”

She whirled around with a yelp. North stood there, his big body framed in the hot afternoon sunlight. And speaking of hot . . .

Her face burned at being caught on his property. She felt cornered. The only way out was through him—this big, sexy man who filled her with far too many naughty thoughts.

“I—I—”

“Did you just walk into my backyard?” he asked evenly, that deep voice of his reverberating in the hot, still air of the shed.

She stammered some more. “N-no. The gate was open and then I saw that the shed door was open—”

“So you decided to trespass?” He stepped closer and the air just felt thicker, the space tight, his body bigger.

“I decided to be neighborly and—”

“And take the opportunity to snoop around?”

“No!” Yes. That was it exactly.

They stood there, neither budging. Silence stretched. She gazed uncomfortably into the dark brown pools of his eyes and shifted on her feet. She motioned lamely to the metal sculpture. “You built this.”

He didn’t respond to her noncomment, and that only made her feel all the more lame. Although, he wasn’t indifferent. A muscle feathered along the cheek of his strong jaw.

“It’s amazing,” she added. “Beautiful.”

He turned to stare at what he had created and some of the tension ebbed from his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yes. It really is. Is it for . . . you?”

“A veterinary clinic commissioned me to do it.”

He got paid for creating sculptures? For his welding? How many people could say that? And this guy had spent almost half his life in prison, no less.

She shook her head, marveling. He was more . . . so much more than she realized, and then she felt slightly ashamed. She didn’t really know anything about him. That being the case, she shouldn’t have such preconceived notions of who he was. She prided herself on being open-minded. On her job, she’d seen people with all odds stacked against them turn their lives around. Of course, she’d also seen the dregs of humanity just slide lower.

“That’s really . . . impressive,” she said.

He looked back at her, his gaze sharp. “You sound surprised,” he said flatly.

She winced. “No,” she started to say. “It’s only—”

“I can count, too. All the way to one hundred,” he continued, his voice cutting. “I know my letters and everything.”

“Look, we don’t really know each other, do we?” she snapped. “Why shouldn’t I be surprised?” She motioned to the sculpture. “I can’t do anything like this. I don’t know anyone who can. It’s a surprise because it’s incredible. Maybe you shouldn’t be so defensive,” she accused.

His lips pressed into a flat line, apparently digesting this.

“It’s a compliment,” she added. “That’s all I was trying to do. The gracious thing to do is to accept it.”

After a long moment, he nodded. “All right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He was slow to move, but he finally did, stepping closer to her, a great wall of living heat coming at her. “That doesn’t erase the fact that you trespassed.”

She swallowed. “Er, yes. Sorry.”

“It’s just there’s lots of dangerous equipment in here.” His eyes rested on her face even as he motioned around him with one hand. “And the space is . . . tight. And filthy.”

She stared at his mouth, hearing those last words and suspecting he wasn’t talking about his workshop anymore. He reached a hand between them and touched the thick silk ribbon dangling from the collar of her blouse. Her breath caught at the proximity of his fingers to her breast. “A nice clean thing like you could get dirty.”

She swallowed again. “I won’t come on your property again.”

“Oh, you can come over any time. I just want you to know what you’re getting into when you do.” Okay, he definitely was talking about more than her stepping foot into his shop.

Her face warmed and she remembered his earlier words. He’d charged her with drawing a line in the sand. It was up to her to cross it.

He dropped the ribbon and stepped to the side, suddenly all brisk business as he waved her to pass. “Thanks for closing my gate . . . even though you have yet to do that.”

She sniffed and smoothed a hand down her skirt. “I would have.”

“Right.” He grinned and her stomach did that heady flip-flop.

She stepped past him quickly, making sure they didn’t brush each other. Not touching North would be the smartest thing she had done all day. Far smarter than snooping around his backyard and discovering there was, in fact, much more to North Callaghan than she could ever have imagined.





FIFTEEN




Faith managed to avoid North Callaghan over the next few days. She actually didn’t even have to try very much. They simply didn’t bump into each other. She was starting to wonder if maybe he was avoiding her. For some reason that stung. Was he trying to make a point? Did he really expect her to come after him? To cross that proverbial line in the sand? Not. Happening. She went about her life and tried not to glance next door every time she emerged from her house or pulled into her driveway.