Chapter Six
“So how exactly does a roughneck Devil Dog like you get a woman like Anya?” Garrett hooked a crowbar into the twisted mass of wood and metal he was trying to separate and pried.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Wydell didn’t generally lie to his buddies, but the less they knew, the less they’d rag on him. Besides, he had no clue how to answer a single question about his relationship—or non-relationship—with Anya.
Garrett snorted. “Bro, I saw her trailer rocking when I went through town today. I’m surprised it didn’t tip over.”
At the memory of squeezing himself into Anya’s miniature bathroom and drilling her over her sink, his balls tightened. And he almost laughed too. His shoulders had nearly touched each wall and every time he’d withdrawn from her, his ass had bumped the shower door behind.
But Anya’s screams of pleasure were worth all the bruises and abrasions he’d sustained in the act.
He shook off the heat curling through his groin and focused on his task. He couldn’t wait to finish this lot so they could get paid. The insurance money wasn’t much, but it kept him and Garrett afloat. And Wydell was squirreling some of his cash to build one of the bigger vacation homes he’d dreamed of.
A place to take Anya where they could roll and tumble freely without crashing into everything.
But Garrett’s question had burrowed into his brain. He was right—a woman like Anya needed someone who could take her out and show her the finer things in life. All Wydell had to offer was some twisted skin and a banged-up soul. He looked pretty good to her now, but there wasn’t much to look at out here, was there?
Pushing air through his nose, he dug into his work. The higher the sun rose in the sky, the more agitated he became. Garrett whistled a catchy boot camp cadence, and the rhythm made Wydell think of the long runs they’d been forced to take every day. He couldn’t say he missed the military, but at least he’d always known what was expected of him.
Out here, if he wasn’t working, he felt lost and detached. Except when he was in Anya’s bed.
He glanced at her trailer. The silver glinted in the brilliant sun, but she was probably passed out asleep in the cool interior. He had kept her up all night, after all.
A smile crept over his face, and damn if Garrett didn’t catch him at it.
“Deny it all ya want, Wydell. You’re fucking that woman.”
He opened his mouth to say it was more than fucking. But if it wasn’t fucking, what was it? Making love? The term set his teeth on edge. There was a reason he was called Hard Ass—a man like him didn’t “make love.” And what he and Anya shared wasn’t love. It was more like lust with strings attached.
“I bet she’s prissy in bed. Making sure her hair isn’t mussed and you don’t screw up her lipstick.”
Wydell shot his friend a look. “She’s not that way.”
“Yeah? She looks as if she just stepped off the stage. Beauty queen. Isn’t that what you said once?”
“I was wrong, and you know it. Why are you changing your mind now?”
Garrett shrugged. “Maybe because she just came out of her trailer wearing enough bling to blind a man.”
Wydell wheeled around, nearly losing his footing and falling into the junk he was trying to clear. He blinked into the sun—blinded by the glare off the Airstream as well as the sparkles coming off Anya.
From this distance, she seemed to be electrified. From head to toe, she glittered.
“I can’t tell, is she wearing a tiara?” joked Garrett.
“Dammit,” he said under his breath. He had a feeling there was a reason for her sudden wardrobe change, and it probably had to do with their night together.
And what he’d said to her before leaving the trailer this morning: Sleep in, Beauty Queen. You aren’t used to working that hard. He’d leaned over and kissed her forehead, but before he’d turned away, he’d seen her brows draw together.
“Here she comes.”
Garrett was right—the glitter was moving toward them, growing brighter with each step she took.
“Be right back.” Wydell jumped out of the foundation and strode toward Anya. By the time he could make out her features, his heart jolted. She was beautiful, all dolled up as she was, but it wasn’t her. She’d donned some layers. As armor, or to prove a point?
“Oooh, look at you, all covered in dirt.” She stepped away from him.
“Anya.” His tone was a warning, but he had no idea what he was warning her about. If she thought he was going to keep his hands off her, she was crazy.
She brushed at her sleeve, which was embroidered with silver thread. The buttons were tiny rhinestones. In her ears she wore fat diamond studs, and the band of her hat was silver and rhinestones.
“Like what you see, cowboy?” she drawled in a fake voice.
He looked at her closer, but she spun to show off her behind. Her jeans pockets were encrusted with so many stones it would hurt to sit down. And her boots…
“Are those boots what I think they are?”
She twisted to face him and stretched her toe to show off the calf-hugging supreme leather that cost more than Wydell’s truck. “Why yes, they are. Do you like them?”
“What’s going on, Anya?”
“Whatever do you mean? A beauty queen has to look good at all times.”
Just as he thought. His words had driven her to this act, but he’d been teasing when he’d used them.
“This isn’t who you are.”
She laughed, a high, fluttering sound that chilled him. “Why, of course it is, silly. The sun must have gone to your head. You’d better have a drink. I have to get to the Kents’. Maybe we can talk about world peace while I’m there, and see if they need me to buy them anything.”
She started to turn away, but he caught her forearm, heedless of his dirty work glove’s damage to her silver embroidery. “What are you talking about, buy them anything?”
“Well, I have a fat bank account. That’s why I’m here, after all. To waste granddaddy’s money. Ta-ta!” She pulled away and sauntered off, each shiny object on her body a mini sun imprinting themselves on his retinas.
When his eyes cleared he found Garrett standing beside him. His friend opened his mouth to speak, and Wydell cut him off. “Don’t say a damn word.”
He snapped his mouth shut, which was a first. Nobody was more outspoken than Garrett, especially when there were easy wisecracks to be had.
Another hour of work and they had the debris cleared. They grabbed shovels and within minutes had the nails, glass and splinters removed from the space as well. Garrett leaned on his shovel handle and wiped a bead of sweat off his temple. “Feels good to be finished.”
“Yeah.” Wydell’s mind was still on Anya and her sudden change.
“Before we head to the housing project, I’m going up to Brodie’s and see if he needs any help. They’re loading cattle for auction today.”
“I’ll come along.” Wydell watched Anya’s truck trundle in their direction. He didn’t remove his stare from the expensive vehicle until she rolled to a stop beside them.
“Why didn’t you walk up?” he asked her. It wasn’t like she’d parked across town.
“Me, walk? One trip up here today plum wore me out.”
He tightened his lips. What was she playing at?
“Good job here. Looks great. Maybe I’ll put a building on it, make it into a high-end boutique.”
Wydell lowered his glare at her. “Anya—”
She turned her attention to Garrett. “What’s next today?”
“We’re going to Brodie’s to help load some cattle. Wanna come?”
“Sure! Cattle are smelly and dirty, but I suppose I can give you a ride. I’ll sit in the truck and keep my manicure clean. Hop in.”
Garrett jumped into the passenger seat, which left Wydell in the back, glaring and fighting growl after growl. She was taking this joke a bit too far.
All the way to Brodie’s place, she and Garrett discussed the Bells—how Brodie and Danica had worked their families’ ranches into profitable ventures again. The questions she asked him weren’t airheaded and shallow—her act was all for Wydell.
When they reached the ranch, Wydell hopped out. Anya stayed where she was until Garrett walked around her truck and opened the door for her. Shooting Wydell the side-eye, she purred, “Why thank you. My nails, you know.” She waggled her fingers, which were a bright red.
Huffing with frustration, Wydell went straight to the pen, where Brodie and Danica were having a heated discussion.
“You’re not loading cattle, Danica. It’s not safe in your condition.”
“This isn’t Victorian England, Brodie. A woman doesn’t go to her fainting couch for nine months while servants tend to her. I’m having a baby, and it’s early days. Heck, my grandma helped my grandpa build a house when she was eight months pregnant. For once I’m not puking my guts out. I want to do this.”
A feminine gasp from behind had Wydell turn to see Anya’s eyes gleaming with happiness. She’d just realized Danica was pregnant. Danica, hearing the noise too, smiled at her and waved. Then she lowered her brows at her husband. “I’m not finished with this conversation.”
“I am,” Brodie said, though not too loudly.
Danica came to Anya’s truck. She oohed and ahhed over Anya’s boots when she showed them off.
Brodie watched for a moment before saying, “What’s this all about?”
Wydell unclenched his jaw. “She’s proving a point.”
“Do I wanna know?”
“I wouldn’t tell you even if you did. Now let’s load some beef.”
* * * * *
Anya tried to keep her eyes off Wydell as he worked, but she was failing miserably. His back muscles rippled beneath his T-shirt and the way his jeans hung low on his hips…she shuddered. Watching him wrangle cattle was hotter than a California wildfire.
Too bad he had flatulence—of the mouth, that is.
She’d tried to teach him a lesson. And she’d thought he was done treating her like a prissy beauty queen and had started seeing her as… Well it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the man for her, no matter how wild he drove her.
Danica grabbed a shovel, threw her overprotective husband a look and started on a pile of manure.
Anya watched for a second. The woman Wydell thought Anya was wouldn’t touch manure with somebody else’s shovel, but she couldn’t let her new friend tackle that heavy, stinking heap alone. Especially pregnant.
When she stepped up to the pile, Danica waved her back. “You’re not dressed for this. Your boots!”
Wydell swung around to see what she was doing. Raising her chin a notch, Anya planted one boot right into the manure.
Danica plastered her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Anya smiled. Yeah, her boots were damn expensive, but she hadn’t bought such flashy footwear. They’d been a gift from her momma. She’d never cared much for them, but something had told her to pack them in the Airstream before heading for Los Vista. Turned out they’d come in handy.
Wydell gave her a burning look, similar to the ones he’d given her in bed…or when fucking her on the kitchen counter or rolling in the grass.
She dug her shovel deep, lifted it and tossed. At that moment, Wydell approached her. Cow patties struck him square in the shins and tumbled to rest on his boots.
She stopped. Danica laughed, but Wydell kept coming.
Anya steeled her legs to keep from running away. She might have been pretending to be exactly what he believed she was, but she wanted to prove another point to her new friends. She could work as hard as the next person, and she was damn well going to.
For long minutes she shoveled while Wydell looked on, a groove between his brows. She shoveled faster. The pain in her hands began as a slight sting. But after she’d attacked half the pile, she tested her grip. Peeling her hand off the shovel hurt like a son of a bitch. She winced and gripped the handle again.
Though not before Wydell spotted the blood.
“Dammit, woman.” He was on her in a blink. With more gentleness than a man of his size and strength should be able to show, he pried her fingers off the wood. She hissed.
Danica sucked in a breath. “Oh no. I never thought about you not having gloves, Anya. Come into the house. I’ve got a first aid box.”
“I know where it’s at.” Wydell’s tone brooked no argument. He dropped the shovel and encircled Anya’s wrist with his big fingers. Then he led her toward the house.
She tugged to be released. “I’m not a child. I can walk without you holding onto me.”
Throwing a dark glare over his shoulder, he continued to pull her along.
He’s a hard ass, all right. Stubborn, insufferable man.
The interior of the Bell ranch was cool and homey, with rustic accents sprinkled with a woman’s touch. On the side table was a framed pregnancy test. A longing rose up in Anya.
She stopped dragging her heels and followed Wydell into the kitchen. He jerked his head toward the table. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog for you to order around.”
He pushed out a sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face. The rasping noise of callus on beard scruff ignited her. If her hands didn’t hurt so much, they’d be all over him.
“Dammit, stop looking at me that way so I can fix your blisters.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just worried about my manicure.”
“Anya.” His warning tone almost made her giggle. She bit her lips to keep from smiling while he stomped to a cabinet and found a plastic box filled with bandages and ointments.
As he tenderly took her palm into his and turned it over, he blanched. “Fucking hell, woman, why didn’t you wear gloves?”
“I didn’t have any with rhinestones.”
He narrowed his eyes, and her laugh slipped out.
“Okay, fine. I never thought of it. I’m dressed like this to show you that I really can be a primped beauty queen.”
“I caught on.”
Suddenly she realized she still had her boots on. Alarm crossed his features. Wydell looked concerned. “Am I hurting you? Crap, Anya.”
“No, no. It’s my boots. I walked through Danica’s clean house with manure on my boots.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Hell, Danica does it herself. This is a working ranch and a ranch family lives here, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”
“They’ll worry when they have a baby crawling around on the floor.”
“I’m sure.” He held a tube of ointment over her raw hands. “Now keep still. I don’t want to hurt you more.” As he squeezed goo onto her hands and then took a swab and spread it liberally over both of them, she watched his face. A lump formed in her throat and by the time he finished, she wanted to curl up against his chest and let him protect her from everything.
But he couldn’t. Especially when he shared some uncharitable opinions. His words early this morning had irritated her, but she’d scoffed them off as teasing…until she’d sat down with a plate of eggs benedict and opened her hometown newspaper on her tablet—only to find a snarky article about her efforts in the town of Los Vista.
They made out all her decisions to be silly and flippant. She was squandering Granddaddy’s hard-earned money on a hopeless ghost town, and her idea of building tiny houses was an obvious bust. Apparently everybody thought she was incapable of using the brain she’d been given. That had changed her whole view on things that morning.
She pulled her hands away from Wydell and avoided his gaze.
“Hey.” He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to look into her eyes. His brows drew downward. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Thanks for the bandages.” She bounced to her feet. But before she could take a single step, he had her pinned to his chest. He was warm and smelled of clean cotton. God, he felt too good to move away from. And he hadn’t been snarky to her once while fixing up her hands.
Still, they were no good together. This morning was a prime example. Their bodies got on just fine. Better than fine, amazingly. But in the end, he didn’t respect her. He would never stop thinking of her as a princess. Given how she didn’t have the common sense to wear gloves during hard labor, maybe he was right. She wasn’t cut out for this rough town. Her money was the only thing that could help here.
Removing herself from his hold, she hurried out the door. She threw a wave at the guys and had a quick word with Danica before jumping into her truck. She started the engine and backed out, trying not to look at Wydell standing on the porch looking as if his puppy had just run away.
Let him look. I’m not somebody to like on his terms. He either likes me or doesn’t.
She had no intention of letting him close to her again. They had to work together, but after the project was completed, she’d pull her trailer out of town.
Then what? Thought of returning to that big, lonely house she’d inherited left a hollow feeling in her chest. She’d felt her spirit stir the minute she’d set eyes on Los Vista. Leaving would wrench her.
Never seeing Wydell again would too.
Crap, this was worse than she imagined. Somehow her lust had morphed into a strange butterfly sensation around her heart.
* * * * *
When Anya showed up to work on the house wearing thick leather work gloves, Wydell couldn’t help but grin.
Damn, she looked good too. Curves for miles in those skinny jeans and a loose plaid top that made him happy because Boyd and Garrett wouldn’t be staring at her quite so much.
“Hi,” she said quietly as she pulled a hammer out of the pink tool belt slung around her round hips.
“Hi. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“I’ve been letting my hands heal before coming over. And someone has to work out the funding for this project. And the press has been driving me nuts. Have you seen the trucks driving through? And I swear I heard a chopper earlier. Wow—you’ve really made some progress since I’ve been here.” She tipped her head back and looked at the enclosed home. All two-hundred square feet of it. Actually, the place was almost completed. They were just waiting on some pieces to finish the bathroom.
“How are your hands?”
She held one up and flexed her fingers. “Fine. Did you fix the bathroom?”
He tried not to get his ire up at mention of their point of contention. She poked her head around the kitchen wall and then jerked back, blinking at him. “Oh! I forgot. I just got a shipment delivered and the items are in the back of my truck.”
“Let’s have a look.” He clapped his gloves together and squeezed through the door. What he wouldn’t give to throw out a ballroom wing onto this little place. When they put the house on the market, they’d have to state people under a certain height and weight shouldn’t bother coming to view the home.
He almost laughed at the train of thought. And then gulped it back when he eyed Anya in front of him.
She wiggled her fine little ass all the way back to her truck. For days he’d been burning for a glimpse of her. Hell, she’d haunted his dreams when he managed to sleep and he’d added more than a few grunts to the noises of barn animals as he took his cock in his fist and finished the dreams.
With a flourish, Anya lowered her tailgate. He stepped up to it and stared at the few porcelain rectangles lying there. “Horse troughs? Those’re small.”
“No, Wydell.”
Now why did her tone sound flat and pissed off?
“They’re bathtubs.”
“What? Who the hell could fit in there?” Certainly not a strapping Texan.
“An adult can fit if you bring your knees up.” She looked up at Wydell. “Well, most adults. Besides, you can stand in it and shower too.”
“Good Lord.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and slammed the tailgate again, narrowly missing his fingers. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Only pain in the ass you’d get is if you sit in that tub. Maybe we can use it as a breadbox instead. Hey, where ya going?”
He trailed behind her, laughing at first. But then he caught the irritating blades of a chopper again. He hadn’t realized until Anya’s comment that it was a news crew, probably taking images from the air but now swooping close to the ground. She tipped her head back to look at them, annoyance clear on her face as dust swirled nearby.
All he saw was a fellow Marine walking away, only to be shot down. His heart beat too fast, and he couldn’t breathe through the hot sand that seemed to be suffocating him.
“Wydell. Wydell, look at me, babe.” Soft fingers cupped his face. “C’mon, it’s me, Anya.”
He focused on the blue of someone’s eyes but it took several seconds to realize that the sparkling depths belonged to his woman. He needed her. With a rush of breath, he grabbed her, yanked her against him.
She squeaked but wrapped her arms around him as he struggled for a deep breath. “Shhh,” she crooned, smoothing her hand over his shoulder to his spine. “It’s okay. You’re in Los Vista surrounded by friends.”
He’d been surrounded by friends in Iraq too. Didn’t make him feel any better. But over there, he hadn’t had a soft, sweet woman in his arms. He buried his face against her throat and inhaled her scent.
So perfect.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked.
“No.” The last thing he wanted to do was scare her with the violence that lived in him. How he still thirsted for those missions and victory over their enemies. How, when he wasn’t tormented by dreams of her, he had nightmares of blood and pain.
“I’m okay.” He released her, and she moved back a step, watching him closely.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Best get back to work.”
“Okay, how can I help?”
“You can start by taking those tubs back to the home improvement store.” He hated himself for not budging on this issue, but his agitation about his flashback was greater than his ability to stop being a pain in the ass.
She set a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “Are we seriously going to argue about this after you’ve just clung to me like a drowning man? Wydell, I just don’t get you.”
He narrowed his eyes. A drowning man? He wasn’t. He was Hard Ass, and he was going to show her how to build a proper vacation home.
“Fine, leave them here then. I’ll install one later. Why don’t you go on down to the Kents’ place? I hear they’re in need of some help. Take your reporters with you—they’ll jump all over that story.”
She stared at him. He sensed her sadness and couldn’t look in her direction. She tangled him up too much—he needed some room to think.
“Are you sending me away?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m good at working alone, Anya. I’ll see you later.”
She stormed to her truck, and with the bath tubs still in the bed, she drove away in a cloud of dust.
He stared at her truck for a while before turning his focus on the pile of lumber that would build several more homes. The idea of that wing crossed his mind again, and before he knew it, he was lining up cement blocks to be used as a footer. By midafternoon he had the addition framed. And by the time the sun slipped behind the horizon, those two-hundred square feet had become a thousand.
Standing back to survey his handiwork, he smiled. He’d make it up to Anya later, and he had a feeling she’d like what he’d done. The place looked much cozier yet it was still small enough to appease Anya. And if not, she’d give him the sharp edge of her tongue.
At least then he’d have a reason to kiss her into silence.
* * * * *
The familiar sound of Wydell’s truck engine idling beyond her door brought Anya outside. She hated the leap of her heart whenever she saw him. And the way her nipples peaked at a single glance at his hard lips. The memory of them wrapped around her straining buds was too thick in her mind to shake.
All those times she’d thought she disliked him and it would never work faded away. She did like him—too much. That’s what scared her the most. She needed distance. Yeah, she was going to tell him that right now.
As soon as she approached his truck, he reached out and snagged her around the waist. Walked her back against the metal side of his truck, still warm from the day’s sun. He swooped in and claimed her lips before she could protest.
The slick swirl of his tongue over hers stole her control. She clung to him, letting him mold her body to fit his. When he hitched her up to his crotch, her pussy spasmed with need.
“I’m sorry for earlier.” He nibbled her lower lip.
“For the…bathtubs?” She couldn’t catch her breath before he claimed her mouth again. He dug his fingers into her backside and she cried out as she was pressed high against his hard cock.
He let her slide down is body, nice and slow. His eyes as black as midnight. “For that and my…episode.”
Her heart turned over. “You know I want to help you.”
“I do. That’s why I want you to come with me.” Instead of letting her get into the truck, though, he eased his hands into her back pockets. The pressure tugged her jeans into her pussy. The seam ground into her clit, and she rocked her hips for more.
“Mmm, you like that? Does it feel good?” He crooned into her ear, relaxing his hands for a brief second. The pressure eased. She gulped at the sensation. His eyes darkened as he pushed his hands into the bottoms of her pockets again. The pull and push against her sent her spinning like a twister.
“Wydell.” She could barely say his name.
“You like when I do this?” He slid his hands upward. The pressure released. Then he shoved his hands deep into her pockets again, and the thick seam of fabric pressed into her clit. She trembled for more, breathing too fast. Climbing faster.
He worried her earlobe between his teeth as he continued his exquisite torture. He whispered dirty, hot words into her ear about sucking on her clit and pinching her nipples. About driving into her tight pussy and her soaking his cock.
“Oh God.” Her words came out as a shiver. Overhead, the stars winked down at them. Out here, she felt so free, so loved wrapped in the cocoon of his arms while he gave her a pleasure unlike any she’d received before.
Release. She gasped.
He pressed downward again. “Grind into it, baby. Let me get you off. I wanna hear you scream for me.”
“Wy—dell.” She peaked faster than she’d thought possible. Her pussy tightened almost painfully before she tipped over the ledge and contractions of ecstasy pounded her.
He held her through her orgasm, pressing on her pockets light enough to keep her pulsating. When she tipped her face up to his, he kissed her long and slow and deep. When he had her ready to drop her jeans and mount his cock, he reached past her and opened the truck door.
“Get in.”
She had no idea where they were going, but she could hardly wait to get there and return the favor. Giving him release, watching his face crumple in bliss, was one of the things she’d miss most about Los Vista. Reaching across the console, she tried to place her hand over his bulging jeans, but he stayed her. Entwined their fingers.
“Not yet, sweetheart. I get to lick up all those juices you just spilled for me.”
She quivered with the excitement he was about to give her. Passion was a thick haze in her mind. She squeezed his hand and stared at his profile through the dim lighting of the dashboard. Each angle and line carved from stone. In daylight, he was beautiful. By moonlight, breathtaking.
Dammit, she was in love with the man. Marine, cowboy, builder, insufferable ass, whatever he was. Even without straight-out asking, he’d demanded that she show her true colors to him. Maybe he’d been the first person to ever do so. Before coming to Los Vista, she hadn’t felt as if anybody but her financial advisor knew that the true Anya wasn’t a spoiled girl but a sharp woman who could make good decisions about her life and inheritance.
Wydell might torment and tease her with his comments but he also respected her. She’d seen it in his eyes, especially while she’d been pretending to be the rhinestone-clad glamour girl.
It took her several seconds to realize that he’d stopped the truck. Wydell got out. She did too, not waiting for him to open the door for her. It was enough to know that he would if she wanted him to.
The high grasses brushed her feet, and she looked across a meadow stretching for miles. Untouched land that was prime for grazing or even planting.
“What is this place?” she asked.
He took her hand and led her across the land. Once they were some distance from the truck, he sank to the ground. She stared into his eyes and sat beside him, letting him tug her against his side. A burning need to say something licked at her insides, but she couldn’t. This was his moment, and he needed the time to say what he’d come to say the way he wanted to say it. Maybe he’d talk about his episode more.
“This is my family’s land.”
She turned to face him. Against the velvety blackness, he was handsomer than ever. “All of it?”
“Yes, the top field. The house was down there a ways. Foundation’s still there. It was one of the first places cleared.”
“Did you clear it?” The thought hurt—Wydell untangling the lives of his family and tossing it all into trucks and dumpsters to be carried off.
“Not me. It was before I got home.”
“It must have been a shock to come back to a ruined town.”
Wydell looked down at his boots, then to where he’d said the house had once been. “In some ways I think it…hurt more than the things I’d seen over there.”
She held her breath, waiting for more, but nothing came. She placed her hand on his cheek. “You know I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
“I know. You’re one of the only people I trust, Anya. Everyone else in town, they mean well. But the way they’d help, I’d only end up feeling worse, you know?”
His admission brought tears to her eyes. “I want to help.”
“You already do, sweetheart. You make me remember there’s a lot worth living for.” He captured her lips in a kiss as sweet as honey. She leaned into him, allowing him to lead and set the pace. When he withdrew faster than she wanted, she couldn’t stop but moan. His chest rumbled and he lay back, pulling her atop him. “Let me have you, Anya. Right here on my land. Then I’ve a mind to take you into town for a nice dinner.”
She wiggled over his body. Bracing herself on her palms, she stared into his eyes. “Doesn’t a man like you have some beer and sandwiches in your truck? Town is all right for some, but I like this view better.”
He slid his hand under her hair to probe the hollow at the base of her skull. “God, how’d I find you?”
“You didn’t. I found you.” She hovered over him, breathing the same air as he did before lowering her mouth and taking what she wanted. She’d found a complex man who was slowly learning how to handle her. Yes, this Wydell was quickly becoming the most important person in her life.