Chapter Seven

By the time Nate's shiny white truck pulled in, Hanna was finished with half of the top floor, intent on working her way down.

Even with all of the few remaining functional windows open and a faint breeze blowing through the house, the heat up here was stifling. Sweat soaked her hair and dripped from the end of her nose. She wiped it away with a damp, gritty arm and kept going.

After so many days of being cooped up in Rex, the work felt good. Her muscles ached and her hands were sore from picking up rough chunks of plaster and splintered lath. At least she'd had the gloves to keep her from cutting herself on the nails and broken glass littered about—even if they were way too big for her hands.

They fit Nate, though, and the thought of having her fingers where his had been seemed acutely intimate somehow.

She heard Nate call her name, so she poked her head out of the nearest window. "Up here."

He lifted a giant foam cup in each hand. Even from here she could see condensation beading up along the surface—proof that whatever he was carrying was ice cold. "Brought drinks. Come on down."

The thought of icy liquid had her scrambling down the cluttered steps and out into the bright sunshine. Last night's storms had cleared out, leaving behind blue skies and white billowy clouds rising in tall plumes that promised the chance for more storms later today.

She didn't know where the lake was in Whisper Lake, but she could smell it nearby, all green and faintly fishy. Above that was the earthy scent of manure and wildflowers blooming in the pasture across the street.

Cattle grazed lazily, sticking mostly to the shade under a strip of trees that bordered a creek. Two new babies slept curled up like puppies, their mamas taking turns watching over them.

There were a few houses scattered out here, but none of them close enough to invade the bubble of privacy this place created.

That was probably why the kids had chosen it as party central.

Nate had parked under an oak tree in the shade. The tailgate was open and he stood leaning against it. In his hands was a plastic package of baby wipes.

"Thought you might want these," he said. "Now that I know you're not afraid to get dirty."

She gladly took the offered wipes and cleaned her hands and face of as much sweat and grime as possible.

At least she didn't have to worry about him coming on to her looking like this. Or smelling like this.

"Hope you like sweet tea," he said, offering her a drink.

"I'd like anything cold and wet at this point. Thanks."

She took the drink and sucked it down until her head screamed from the cold.

Nate laughed. "You look positively wilted."

"That's a very polite way to say I look like a wet rat and smell like a donkey."

He nodded. "I was raised to be a gentleman."

"How'd your work go?"

He grimaced. "About as well as I expected. Getting a business loan these days isn't as easy as it used to be."

She eyed the old Victorian. "She's worth it."

Nate shook his head. "The money isn't for the house. I've already got that set aside. This is for something else. Something big."

She wanted to ask what, but it seemed intrusive, so she held the question back. As it was, she was reeling from the idea of having enough cash to do the work this house was going to require. Nate was a lucky man to have those kinds of funds.

"Well, I hope it all works out," she said.

"I'll make it work." There was no arrogance in his tone, just a simple statement of fact, as if he could inflict his will upon the world with enough time and effort.

She drained most of the tea, then slid her gloves back on. "Thanks for the drink. I'd better get back to it."

"It's too hot up there for you to be working. Besides, it's getting late and I want to make sure you're settled in before nightfall."

"I already peeked in the garage apartment. All I need is a place to wash up and a bed—the bed being optional."

"What about dinner?"

"I'll ask Declan if he'll drop off my cooler after work. It's full of food, so I'm good."

"I'd rather take you to dinner." Nate's green gaze pinned her in place. He was so damn handsome, she nearly forgot that she was no longer interested in men.

But handsome or not, she had to set him straight. She was done making mistakes. Her life was too much of a shithole for her to bend her rules even a little.

No men. No new friends. No more contact with her family.

She was a shiny new creature determined to create a shiny new life. All she needed was Rex and a chance.

"I appreciate the offer," she told Nate, "but I need to stop you right there. I'm not going to date you. I'm not going to sleep with you. All I'm going to do for you is work. If that's not enough, then tell me now so I can figure out my next move."

He was silent for a long minute, then nodded. A flicker of disappointment crossed his features before it was replaced with that charming grin. "Okay. That's fair. And probably for the best. As hard as you work, I'll count myself lucky to have you as an employee, no matter how brief a time it may be."

He stuck out his hand, and Hanna shook it.

It was then that she realized her mistake. He'd given her a chance to touch him, and she'd jumped at it. No thought. No hesitation. Just that instant need to please him.

That had always been her downfall. She'd learned the art of pleasing her man from Mom—no matter how bad for her that man might be—and had yet to break the habit.

She pulled her hand away from his and slid the glove on before she could make any more mistakes. "I'll work until it's too dark to keep going and start again tomorrow as soon as it's light enough to see."

"You don't have to work that many hours," he said. "I'm not a slave-driver."

She lifted one shoulder, feeling it ache at the movement. "You need the job done and I need the money. Besides, I'll be cooped up in Rex again before I know it. I'm enjoying the fresh air and exercise."

"Suit yourself," he said. "I'll check in on you in the morning. Can I get you anything before I go?"

She shook her head. "I have everything I need."