Present Day…

I loved everything about construction, from the weight of the tools in my hand to the smell of sawdust. Nothing gave me more pleasure than taking a piece of wood or sheet metal and molding it into something useful. During my prison sentence, I’d earned a degree in business, but once I got out, no one would hire me. To pay the rent, I’d taken odd jobs like roofing and framing. Hard work had never frightened me. In fact, intense physical activity eased the pent-up anger and frustration.

After last night, I couldn’t think about anything but Stella. I’d come so damn close to kissing her in the river. The pain on her face had twisted my guts into tight knots, and all I wanted to do was take away the hurt. Banging a hammer helped, but I still couldn’t shake her from my thoughts. Everything I’d done up to this point had been for her protection. Although I had loved my brother, I’d loved her more. One look into her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t a murderer. Her eyes could never lie to me.

Now I felt guilty for ever doubting her. Life behind bars changed a man, his perception of life and his trust in others. I lined up a nail with one of the boards, swung the hammer, and missed, banging my thumb. My curses drew the attention of the other guys. Usually, I stayed silent and kept to myself. To ward off their stares, I turned my back to them and focused on the nail. On the second swing, the nail sunk into the wood.

Through the open kitchen window, Stella’s voice floated on the stale breeze, arguing with Lanie. I didn’t want to listen, but I couldn’t help it. Her questions made my blood pressure skyrocket. What was she doing? If she aroused interest in Chris’s death, the wrong people might start asking questions, and I couldn’t have that. When she ended the call, she moved into view. Our eyes met through the window. She drew her lower lip between her teeth.

“What the are you doing?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice at a reasonable level.

A blush climbed up her neck, all the way to her hairline. “That was a private conversation.”

I dropped the hammer and opened the door between us. She blinked up at me, lips trembling, and nostrils flared. The sight of her heaving tits stirred my cock. Her gaze darted to my mouth. I cleared my throat, stepped inside the kitchen, and shut the door behind me. “Stay the fuck out of it, Stella.”

“I can’t. If Lanie knows something, she needs to come forward. Maybe we can clear your name.”

A growl of frustration scratched my throat. I shoved both hands through my hair then scrubbed my face. “Have you thought this through?” A furrow formed between her brows. She cocked her head to one side, studying me intently. Warmth spread through my chest. Her scrutiny turned me on in a number of different ways. I took a step closer to her, lowering my voice. If Lanie had seen Chris that night, there was a very real possibility that she had something to do with his death. “You’re asking for trouble. Let it go, Stella.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” The ache in her voice renewed my regrets. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop hurting her. I swept a hand over her cheek, brushing the dark hair from her face. The softness of her skin tickled against my clumsy fingers. I bent my head to capture her gaze.

“I won’t.” She lifted her chin, defying me. Unshed tears brightened her eyes.

“Damn it, you’re hardheaded.” I flexed my fingers, warring against the urge to kiss the rebellion out of her. Instead, I grabbed her by the bicep and pulled her further into the kitchen, away from the open window. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to walk away right now. I’ll deny anything you say to the authorities.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Try me.” We glared at each other. With each passing second, my attraction to her grew. Her anger acted as a catalyst, heating my desire. She wouldn’t act this way if she didn’t care for me, and I wouldn’t respond to her emotions if I didn’t still love her.

“I need time to think. I can’t deal with this—with you—right now.” The torture in her voice broke me for the thousandth time. I loosened my hold on her arm and dropped my hand to my side. “Please, Owen.”

We were trapped in a cycle of regrets and apologies. I wanted to move forward, to get on with my life, while she kept dragging us into the past. I opened my mouth to speak, but Cindy’s voice called to Stella from the front door. We sprang apart, retreating to opposite sides of the kitchen. I took one last look at her, memorizing the slope of her nose, the delicate point of her chin, and the turbulence in her eyes before slipping out the back door.