Chapter Two
“She’s going to be fun to work with,” Garrett said as they wrapped up for the day.
Wydell wanted to groan. He’d bitten off several such noises during the afternoon. Garrett obviously found Blondie very interesting.
“I think she’s going to be a pain in the ass.”
“Really?”
“She’s a damn beauty queen. Can’t you see it?”
Garrett blinked at him.
“For Chrissakes, man, listen to her voice. She has that same cultured drawl as Miss Texas. You don’t get raised talking like that. You learn it. ”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t watch pageants.”
“Neither do I. But if you listen to her a while, I bet you’ll hear her views on world peace.”
“Hell, I’d love to. Bet she can bring all kinds of peace with curves like that.” Garrett ran a hand down his abs.
Wydell felt his irritation spread like an infection. For a few heartbeats back when Anya and Garrett had shared a smile, Wydell had felt violence rise up inside. The kind that knocked out men’s pearly white teeth. Guess that wasn’t healthy—he needed to keep that in check.
“She’s not into your type.” Wydell tossed a rope on the seat of his truck.
“How the hell do you know?”
“Come on. She’s got more money in her truck and trailer than either of us have ever seen. She probably sleeps on silk sheets.”
“Who wouldn’t like that? All soft and slippery.” Garrett stared at the silver Twinkie glinting in the late afternoon sun.
Wydell elbowed him in the ribs and went to find his crowbar, though not to inflict any damage on his friend. He’d remembered that he’d dropped it when Anya approached them.
When he looked at the lot they’d mostly cleared today, he didn’t see someone’s loss. He saw potential. Good ground with the water and sewage lines still intact. If Anya was really willing to fund this project, he was prepared to do anything to make it happen. Even work with a clueless, uppity beauty queen.
“Are you headed to the ranch?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah, for a bit. I’m going to get cleaned up then meet Anya.”
“Maybe I’ll tag along. I don’t have any ideas about vacation homes, but I’m good for some conversation.”
The growl was back in Wydell’s throat. “I got it handled,” he rumbled. “Why don’t you go on over to the other ranch and see if the Popes needs help with their horses?”
“I’ll do that. They always needs help.” Garrett sauntered toward his own dilapidated truck. Beside Anya’s, their vehicles looked destined for the junkyard. “Catch ya tomorrow, Corporal.” He gave a lazy salute that would have had him sweeping sunshine off the sidewalks back in boot camp.
Wydell gave him a grin and the middle finger. Half an hour later he was squeaky clean and driving back into town with several rolls of paper on the seat beside him. He’d labored for weeks over some of these plans, but he had a feeling Anya would approve. She probably had a couple vacation homes of her own.
When he knocked on the door of the Airstream, his chest got a funny, tight feeling. He cleared his throat twice before the door opened.
The wind was punched from him as he set eyes on Anya’s honey-blonde hair swinging loose around her golden-tanned shoulders. Wearing a glitteringtank top and jeans encrusted with rhinestones on the edges of the pockets, she looked as out of place in Los Vista as an opera singer at a rodeo.
She gave him a weary look and stepped back to allow him in. As he squeezed his shoulders through the narrow door, turning sideways to do so, she asked, “Where’s your sidekick?”
“Had work to do.”
The inside of her little trailer smelled like homemade cookies. “You baking?” He glanced toward the kitchen that could only produce miniature cookies for a family of elves. There was a child-size range with two burners and an oven that couldn’t possibly fit a cookie sheet.
“Baking? Oh no. It’s a scented candle.” She pointed to a small table where a flame danced over a puddle of melted wax. They stared at each other. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt.
But still, sexy as hell. That blonde hair was doing things to his libido that he couldn’t promise not to act on. In his imagination he forked his fingers through the silky strands and let them fall around her bare breasts as he sucked and licked and lapped and—
He stomped on the fantasy and leaned over to dump his armload of plans on the kitchen table where they’d sat earlier today.
“What are all those?” Her words came out a little hesitant, as though she’d forgotten how to speak.
“House plans. I figured I’d show you what I have in mind and we’ll talk costs and how this is going to work between us.”
“I’m willing to invest quite a bit to get this project afloat. Let’s see what you’ve got.” The interest in her expression gave him a little thrill low in his spine. Together they turned for the booth, but he was too big and the space too cramped. They ended up tangled, his thigh crushing her against the tabletop.
When she tipped her head all the way back, he flexed his fingers into fists to keep from living his fantasy of touching her hair. Last thing he needed was to know it felt as good as it looked.
Her gaze skittered away. “Please have a seat.”
Getting into the constricting booth wasn’t his idea of fun, but he didn’t have a choice. He scooted onto the coral leather while she slid across from him. His cock bulged against his fly, thinking of the flashy rhinestones encrusting her back pockets and accentuating her full ass.
Good padding to take a pounding from behind. And her legs were perfect to sling over his shoulders.
Jesus, what am I thinking?
He cleared his throat. She fiddled with a lock of her hair, drawing attention to the rings she wore.
Rich girl rings—real gemstones and white gold. Way out of his league, for sure.
He unrolled one of the plans and pinned it to the surface with his hands.
She blinked. “Whoa. What is that?”
He shot her a look. “A twenty-five hundred square foot ranch house with an open layout in the living areas.”
She pointed at the multiple eaves on the front elevation. “It looks huge.”
“Not as large as I expect people like yourself live in. But it’s a good size for a vacationer.”
“No, no. This is all wrong.”
He gaped at her. “I’ve got other plans.”
“No, I don’t mean this particular plan. I mean you’re thinking about building large homes.”
“Well, it’s Texas, sweetheart. We like things big.” Including curves. He skated his gaze over her honeyed hair to her round breasts. Funny how he could picture her in a flowing pageant gown as easily as in the nude, rolling in his sheets.
“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.
“Wydell. What are you doing here?”
He looked at the flowers she held and then dragged his attention up to her face. So slow. Her breasts tingled and her nipples puckered under his intense stare. She forgot what she was holding. One stem slipped from her grasp.
Before she could retrieve it, he bent and scooped it up. “I have some alternate plans.” When he offered her the flower, she snatched it from his broad, callused palm.
“Good. Let me just put these into a vase and I’ll take a look.”
So he did draw the plans himself. After looking at the level of detail in that last plan, she’d wondered. He was multi-faceted, it seemed. Not just a god of a man who could do underwear modeling or a brute doing manual labor.
As she arranged the flowers in the vase and went to the sink for a cup of water, she felt him track her every move. It unnerved her. She didn’t know him, and they were alone. Yet somehow she knew he wasn’t dangerous. Except maybe to her senses. They were going haywire. He smelled as fresh and good as the air outside. His tanned face made his blue-green eyes stand out. And his muscles…
She suppressed a shudder and turned, cup still in hand.
Their gazes locked, and for an eternal heartbeat, she was trapped.
At once, they both moved, un-fusing their stares and drifting to the table. They slid into the booth and once again faced each other.
She set the cup aside. “Where’s the plan?”
“Right here.” He reached under the table as if digging in his pocket. When he rested his hand on the tabletop and unfolded his fingers, she blinked at what he’d left on it. A tiny scrap of paper with a child’s drawing of a house on it. Square box, triangular roof and microscopic measurements. There was even a puffy cloud and a sun with a smiley face in the sky.
The guttural noise that filled her trailer came from her. She shot to her feet and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
He stood too, more slowly because he had to do some shifting to get out of the booth. An amused smile tipped his hard lips and for a split second, her body reacted and she almost smiled back.
She clamped down on her gesture and poked a finger at him. “You’re making fun of me, but I assure you I don’t think it’s funny.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are your views on poverty?”
She opened her mouth, the question halting her thought pattern. “What?”
“How about global warming?”
“Huh?”
“World peace?”
Suddenly, his jests fitted into a lock that opened the door of her rage. “I am not some beauty queen!”
He cocked a brow in a way that interested her far more than it should have. “No?”
“No!” Just because he was right didn’t mean he was right. Besides, that had been her momma’s doing. She hadn’t asked to be primped and prodded into a gown, put on stage and made to sing America to the judges.
Dammit.
“If you don’t leave my trailer this minute, I’ll remove you myself.”
“Then what, sweetheart?” His drawl reached into her depths and made her clench her thighs. If she didn’t hate him, she might actually enjoy the responses he drew from her.
“I’ll find a well to throw you down!”
He burst out laughing. Insufferable man. She shoved him toward the door.
“What about your plans?” he asked. “Your teeny tiny plans?”
“Redo them in a normal size. If you aren’t capable, I’ll hire someone who is.”
At that, he sobered. Braced in her doorway—actually, he might be wedged—he stared down at her with the first stirrings of regret on his handsome face. When he scuffed his knuckles over his jaw, the noise raised the hairs all over her body.
“I’ll start on them after my ranch work.”
That got her. “Ranch work?”
He stood far too close. “Yeah, I do some work on my buddy’s ranch in exchange for room and board.”
Wydell Jackson was a man of many faces, and she hadn’t seen this one yet. He stared at her—through her—as if he didn’t see her at all but was someplace else. She searched his face, noting the strain around his eyes and mouth. Five heartbeats stretched into six.
He shook himself, and his eyes cleared.
“You worked all day. You’re going to work all night too?”
“Work soothes me, Anya.” Her name falling from his lips was a ripe cherry she longed to taste. Why did he have to be so damn confusing? She needed a good worker, though, and he was that much.
She extended her hand. “I’ll look at your real plans as soon as they’re ready.”
He took her hand briefly. Then he snatched his hat off his head, revealing warm brown whorls plastered to his head. Curly strands that would have broken girls’ hearts in high school.
He raked his fingers through his hair before placing his hat back on, low over his eyes. “Sounds good. In a town of twenty-eight, it’s not hard to find you. I’ll just look for the silver Twinkie.” His lips tilted in a dangerous and infuriating smile as he left.
She leaned out the door. “Are you calling my trailer a Twinkie?” she called after him.
When he turned, she saw nothing of his former strain. He was pure, rugged male beauty with a crooked, toe-curling smile. “Hope you sleep well, sweetheart.”
He’d called her that before, and each time her heart had leaped a little. But this time something warm and liquid slid through her. “I intend to.”
He laughed. “In that little bed? Not likely.”
When she closed the door and locked it for the night, she could only think about one thing—Wydell had noticed her bed. And now her mind was going to have a hell of a time disconnecting him from it.
* * * * *
Wydell hunched over the old workbench. His eyes were blurred with fatigue and his neck ached, but he was determined to finish a set of plans for Anya’s tiny home. When she’d shown him the photo on her tablet, he had to admit some ideas had popped into his mind. Ways to make more with less lumber. How to add storage. Done right it could cut down on utility bills, and everyone liked that.
As he thought of Anya’s built-in vase and handful of scrubby wildflowers, he chuckled softly. What a woman.
The corner of the barn was cozy at this time of night. Wydell suffered from insomnia, as did most men after war. He couldn’t close his eyes without gruesome images swirling in his mind. Sitting at the workbench on an old stool was the closest he got to comfort these days. It wasn’t much, but he’d had some of his best ideas at this time of night.
He used a fat pink eraser to rub away a mistake and redrew the line. While he constructed the home in his mind, he considered Anya’s reaction to each detail. She was opinionated for sure. Trouble was, she wasn’t exactly in touch with the common man.
She smelled of money and class while he just smelled like hard work and sometimes manure.
He sat back and eyed the plan. The yellow glow of an old desk lamp highlighted his work. Until you looked at the dimensions he’d carefully written, you wouldn’t know this was a tiny house. The front was charming with a gabled end and wide steps. But would it appeal to hipsters? What the hell was a hipster, anyway? His knowledge stopped at beards and Starbucks.
The other questions were how much money would it take to build and how much could they sell it for? More profit meant more houses. He planned to appease Anya for now, but he still thought new blood would want to live in something larger than a goldfish bowl.
He dropped his pencil and scrubbed his hands over his face. Exhaustion was creeping in with the sun. Typical. He often fell asleep before dawn, only to be roused by Brodie coming in for morning chores.
He suddenly wondered how Anya was sleeping. Her Airstream was probably half the size of her normal bedroom in whatever castle she lived in. And that nook at the back containing her mattress had looked small. Hell, she had more pillows than space. All bright colors. What he wanted was to see her tanned curves and her blonde hair spilling over crisp, white sheets.
Something stirred low in his stomach. Time to hit the hay before he thought about t too much. He stood and stretched with a juddering yawn. But as soon as he fell into his cot, he was wide awake, his mind racing. He was experienced enough with insomnia to realize the more he tried to slow it, the faster it went. So he just folded his arms beneath his head and rolled with it.
Hours later, after thinking up a second tiny house plan, feeding cattle and trying to stay out of the way of the newlywed couple, he found himself standing in front of Anya’s door.
She probably wasn’t awake yet. Didn’t debutantes sleep all day and party all night? Not much partying to do around Los Vista right now, though. He took a chance she’d fallen asleep early and knocked.
She came to the door within seconds. He had the insane urge to grab her and bear her back inside her trailer, his tongue in her mouth and her soft hips cradling his cock.
“Wydell.” She sounded surprised. “Back to insult my trailer so soon?”
“Yes. Can I come in so I can take a closer look at what I want to insult next?”
Her lips twitched. Her very glossy lips. In high school girls had worn thick fruit-flavored lip gloss, and he’d spent plenty of time dying to taste it. With Anya it was worse.
He tore his focus from her pretty pink pout. “Can I come in?”
She stepped aside far enough so he could get a run at the door. If he stopped partway through it, he was liable to get stuck. He launched himself inside. She gave him another of those lip twitches that was almost a smile.
Holding up the plans he’d drawn, he said, “Will these do?”
“Depends on if you’ve drawn something the size of a cracker. Let’s see.” As she breezed by him, a cloud of citrusy perfume flooded his senses. He couldn’t help but look at her backside—rounded and tight in skinny jeans. Her top was looser today, though, and he longed to gather the cloth on her spine and pull it taut to see her curves.
Shaking himself, he scuffled to the table and unrolled the plan. The first time he’d had trouble keeping the plans flat. This time he was better prepared. He withdrew a handful of rocks from his pocket to weight the corners, and Anya’s long brows met in the middle.
“What are those?”
Without replying, he showed her by setting each stone in the corners. Dirt crumbled off and he brushed away the grains.
“Hey! Stop that. You’re getting dirt all over the place.”
“Little dirt never hurts. Besides, you’re not in the pageant now.”
Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. Gently, he settled a finger under her chin and shut her mouth. She jerked from his touch, but it was no use. Her skin had scalded him, and his body wasn’t going to forget the feel of her silky skin or fine bones anytime soon.
He cleared his throat and pointed to the plan. Now that he looked more closely, he saw some things that could be improved upon, but he wasn’t about to tell Miss Know-It-All.
She leaned over the surface, her thick hair swinging forward. He revisited his fantasy of bundling all that hair in his fist and sinking into her soft body.
“Wow.” The word startled him from his musings.
“Wow?” His voice came out too gritty.
She looked at him closely. “You look tired, Wydell. Your eyes are bloodshot.”
Somehow touched by her voicing it, he said, “I don’t sleep well most nights.”
“Oh. That’s not good. I’d suggest some sleep aids, but you don’t look like the type of man to take a pill before bed.”
He tightened his lips. “No.”
She studied his face for another second. Damn, why did she have to look, sound and act so sweet? He knew it wouldn’t last. But it didn’t stop him from hungering for more.
Turning her attention to the plan again, she pointed at a few areas. “This is great. And I love this addition. A selling feature.”
“Yeah?” He leaned over her and the plan. The tabletop was far too inviting. Actually, it was the perfect height for bending her over.
“Yes, and this nook is a great idea.” Words gushed out as she discussed all the small details that were practical yet interesting. Nothing so stupid as a built-in vase, though. How did you even clean that out? He shot a look at the flowers, expecting to see drooping stems, but they were thriving.
“I absolutely think this plan will work.”
“I can make up some variations. I have other ideas.”
“No, no. This is great for our brand.”
He blinked at her.
“I mean, we can change up the interiors a bit, but the outsides should all look the same to attract our buyers.”
“The hamsters,” he said flatly.
“Hipsters. Let’s stick with this plan and I think we have our marketing tactic.” She gave him the full force of her blue stare. His chest compressed. Or maybe it felt too full. Either way, he was glad she wasn’t kicking him out this time. Maybe they could work together, after all.
The more Anya looked at Wydell, the more intrigued he became. “Were you trained as a draftsman?” she asked.
Confusion spread over him and then cleared. “No. Never set foot in a college.”
“These are good, though. How much do you think it will cost to build one?”
“About ten percent of the cost of a normal house.”
She fizzed with an inner excitement that rubbed off on him. Too bad he wanted to rub a lot of parts against her too.
“Hmm.” Her throaty humming noise sounded almost orgasmic.
“What do these kinds of houses usually go for?” he quickly asked. His question made her clasp her hands together.
“Let’s look at some online.” Her tablet was still on the table, and she wiped a grain of dirt off it before giving him a disgusted look. In a few swipes she had a real estate site open with a few price options.
“I think we can come in with something competitive.” He tapped the screen just as she did. Their fingers brushed, and she snatched her hand back.
“I agree.”
“Guess there’s a first for everything,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Us agreeing.”
With a humph, she sank to the booth and pulled a paper tablet from a stack of books and magazines. A pen had been stuck in the spiral binding, and she brought it to her lips while staring at the screen. Such a thoughtful pose shouldn’t turn on a man so damn much, but seeing those full lips wrapped around the tip of that pen was giving him a severe case of blue balls.
He awkwardly slid into the seat across from her, fixated on her mouth. When she curled her tongue around the cylinder, he closed his eyes with a barely suppressed groan. Then she did something unexpected—she clicked the end against her teeth to raise the nib.
“You’re going to damage your enamel doing that.”
She gaped at him, her mouth open again. Automatically he reached across the table to close it, but she was too quick. She leaned away and shot him a dirty look. “My teeth are none of your concern. Now let’s put some numbers on paper.”
He wanted to lay her out on the first bed he saw. He glanced at the rear of her trailer to the sleeping nook the pillows all arranged neatly. What fun he’d have tossing them out and diving between her curvy thighs.
Something stabbed him in the forehead. The pen clicked, and he batted her hand away. “Stop that.”
“Pay attention.”
He rubbed the spot where she’d pressed the pen. It was slightly damp. From her tongue curling around it?
Damn, she shook all his screws loose. He couldn’t think straight around her. When she was silently scribbling, she looked so damn cute. Lips curved as she made a note along the top of the paper and then added a couple of sums to the growing list.
When she pushed the tablet toward him, he nodded. “Looks good to me.”
“You didn’t even look at it.”
“I can read upside down. I’ve been looking at it the whole time.”
She eyed him with severe mistrust, and he couldn’t help but laugh. The sound was strange, muffled in the silver Twinkie.
“Like I said, looks good to me. I’ll make a supply list and we can run into town after them.”
“Why not have the supplies delivered?” She was doing it again—twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.
“We’re pretty far out and the delivery fees will run high.”
“So?”
He shrugged. “It’s your money. But my guess is whoever left you all that dough didn’t build it by squandering.”
“We can deal in bulk. One trip in a flatbed will be much less than many trips in your truck.” After she spoke, a pink flush spread over her throat and face. Avoiding his stare, she made a few more notes he suspected were for a distraction, not real.
He stood and his boot cracked off the support leg of the booth. “Dammit. We need to get a bigger place to hold meetings.”
She was instantly defensive. “There’s nothing wrong with my trailer.”
“Sure, it’s huge if you work in a circus and are used to jumping out of a little car with nine of your best friends.” Cracking a smile, he tapped the paper close enough to her hand to feel her heat run along his fingers. Leaning over her and dragging in a breath of her sweet scent could become a habit if he wasn’t careful.
“Where are you going now? To make the list?” she asked.
“No, I’ve gotta finish this lot and start on the next.”
Her face was tipped up to his. If he lowered his lips a few scant inches, he could brush a kiss over her perfectly glossy pout. He sucked on his lower lip and released it, but she followed the action, her cheeks even pinker.
“When will we meet about this?” she asked.
He pointed out the door. “After I’ve finished for the day.”
“Will Garrett be joining you?”
He straightened, irritation dumped over his system. “Yeah. We’re a team.” He stared ahead but didn’t see anything but he and Garrett shoulder-to-shoulder, manning a big gun.
A feathery touch on his forearm jerked him back to reality, and he looked into Anya’s blue eyes. “Maybe you need an afternoon nap.”
He swung for the door. “Would if I could.” He stomped outside to get to work. They drove away his demons, but right now he was more eager to put some distance between himself and the woman who was taking up too much of his thoughts.