How did he know she was a ‘business person?’
“Yeah, I guess.” Tim pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Gotta run. I’ll be back same time next week to check on your progress.”
Reed clenched her jaw. “I’ll be in touch once I review the law.”
“It’s all binding, Ms. Peterson. We ran it by legal.”
“I’ll be running it by my own attorney, sir.”
“Do what you want.” The man pulled the visor of his baseball cap down, probably attempting to hide his scowling eyes. He nodded again to Rogan before huffing his way back to his car.
He pulled out of the driveway, but stopped to talk to a passing car as soon as he was on the street.
“Huh,” Rogan said, watching the exchange. “Looks like he’s chatting it up with Nicholas Bonadello.”
“Who’s that? And should I care?”
Rogan tightened his lips.
“He’s your neighbor. Wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”
“This is a lovely way to start.” Reed moaned.
“Mind if I take a look?” Rogan reached out for the papers.
“Have at it. Guess we’ll have some additional items to add to our list.”
“Eh, you already had this stuff on there. Don’t worry about it. I can commit full-time until we get this place in shape.”
His soft, soothing tone warmed her belly like a cup of freshly made chicken soup.
She didn’t need any soup.
“Please get me your written estimate and we’ll go from there.” She started to walk toward the house. She’d put a call into her sister, a high-powered attorney, if needed, but for now she’d come up with a strategic plan.
“Good day to you, too.”
She turned around. Why the sarcastic tone?
“Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. But now that you’re living in small-town USA, you might want to dislodge that stick from your—”
She held up her hand to ward off his insult.
“I get it. You’re intimidated by a powerful woman. I see this all the time.”
She couldn’t lie—he was a strange combination of intimidation and eroticism as he narrowed his eyes and deliberately closed the distance. She barely even noticed his limp.
He didn’t stop until he was close enough for her to smell honey on his breath and the crispy clean fabric softener on his shirt. Guess he did his laundry, after all.
He leaned in. She swallowed, then raised an eyebrow.
“Intimidated by your power? No. Pissed off because you’re being a bitch? Maybe a little.”
Fire gathered in her gut and she opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort.
“Dad!”
“Be right there.”
With one raking gaze, he took her breath with him as he limped away toward his kids, who were now gathered by the car.
“Ivy has a really yucky diapey!”
Oh, the things she wanted to say to him. How fortunate for him that his kids had saved his skin.
She’d find another contractor. Maybe she’d have to extend the calling perimeter, but she’d get someone reliable. Someone trustworthy. Someone who could follow orders without offering an opinion on every single flipping thing.
Someone whose blue eyes and broad shoulders made her not care that he didn’t like her, but made her wish she were better suited for family life.
Chapter Two
“Thanks for coming over at the last minute.” Rogan opened the door so his babysitter, Avery, could enter. “They’re in their PJs, all fed and brushed. I told them they could watch one movie before bed, but if they give you any problems when the show is over, they’re in big trouble. The baby is sound asleep in her crib.”
“No worries, Rogue. They’re always good for me.” The teenager adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.
“Looks heavy. Aren’t you done with school?”
“I’m taking two summer courses at the community college. Figure I’ll get a head start and earn some college credits since I’ll be graduating from high school next year.”
“Can you pass some of that drive and love of learning to Dylan? He’s been struggling. Thank God it’s summer—I think we were ready to go to war over the homework issue.”
Avery laughed. “I’ll do my best. But he’s way more into building his robots than reading and stuff.”
“Tell me about it. Alrighty. I’m out. Call if you need anything. I replenished the snack cabinet—help yourself.”
Rogan gathered his paperwork and laptop and, with one more goodnight to the kids, headed to Jake’s Lounge. In an attempt to save money after his wife’s accident, Rogan had given up his office. Getting anything done at home was nearly impossible, because even if Avery was there to watch the kids, they’d come looking for him. Jake was an old high school friend and saved a corner table for him. The internet was free, Jake allowed Rogan to use his network printer, and best of all, Rogan could have a beer while working.
During a lull in the evening, Jake slid into a chair across the table, tossing his bar rag over his shoulder.
“You look like a man on a mission.”
Rogan tossed his reading glasses to the side. A few more minutes and he’d be done with the estimate.
“The mission from hell.”
“I heard a rumor about some hot ass city chick buying the old Potter property.”
“You heard half right.”
Hot? With her tall, slender frame and small breasts, she wasn’t the type of woman he’d normally be attracted to. Her bossy, holier-than-thou attitude made her an unattractive package.
He couldn’t understand why his blood fled his thinking head and rushed straight to his boner every time he thought of her.
“She’s not from the city?”
“She is. That’s what my Google search said, anyway.”
Jake laughed. “You still Google all of your prospective clients?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I need to know I’ll be paid.”
“Wish I had that system for the bar.” Jake leaned back in his chair and shouted out to the group of townies at the end of the bar. “Hear that, boys? Pay up your tab at the end of the week or they’ll need Google to find the pieces of your bodies.”
“Hey now,” Harvey shouted back. “Mind your manners or we won’t grace your establishment with our presence.”
The old men clinked glasses at Harvey’s attempt at humor.
Jake leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Think it’ll be a good job?” Jake asked.
“It’ll pay the bills for a bit. Wish I could send the lady away while I work.”
“That sucks balls, dude.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why don’t you try to talk to old man Stanton again? Once he sees how capable you are, in spite of your injury, he’d be an ignorant asshole to not put you back on his team.”
“I won’t go groveling for work. I’m good for a while. I’ve got savings and the odd jobs have been picking up.”
“I’ve heard he’s softened since his heart attack.”
“Doubtful.”
“What about his son, Cole? He’s got his own architectural gig going on here, too. He’s a hell of a lot more powerful than his father. I’m sure he’d hire your sorry ass. Isn’t he a friend of yours?”
“Not a friend. Maybe an acquaintance who feels shitty about his father’s decisions.” Rogan guzzled the last of his beer. “Mind if I print?”
“Go for it.”
Rogan printed the estimate, gathered his papers, and explained to Jake that he had to deliver the estimate before she went bat-shit crazy on him.
In truth, guilt was eating his insides. He shouldn’t have called her a bitch. That was uncalled for. She was right—he was a little intimidated by her. But not for the reasons she thought.
The fact that she was so powerful and strong impressed the hell out of him. She knew her stuff, and he got the s
ense that she didn’t take shit from anyone. He admired that.
The part that intimidated him was that she made him feel things he hadn’t felt for years.
Things he shouldn’t feel.
Rogan twisted the wedding ring on his finger and vowed to keep things professional. Probably wouldn’t be an issue since she looked down her regal nose at him.
***
Rogan pulled into the circular driveway, dimming his headlights as he approached the house. He double-checked the time—not even eight thirty. It couldn’t be too late to drop by now. He didn’t see any lights in the windows, but her car was parked out front.
Maybe she was adding to the list, walking the property.
The sun had set enough that she’d need lights inside, but it was still bright enough to see a bit outside.
He jumped out of his vehicle and called her name. The woods were fairly dark, and he didn’t see a flashlight illumination or anything. No sound. No response to his shout.
She had to have crashed early. She had arrived early this morning, if town tales were accurate, and the drive from New York City must have been a killer. Judging by the pile of weeds next to the house, he’d say she had worked her tight little ass off all day.
He started toward his car, stopping when he heard a loud crash and a shatter coming from the open window of the main house. He bolted to the front door, banging and calling her name. Violent crime almost never happened in Healing Springs, but there was a first time for everything.
The door whipped open as he pressed his head to it, listening for sounds that would determine whether he kicked the door in or not.
She didn’t say anything. She glared at him.
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She was fully dressed, but in a different outfit than what she had worn earlier. Business casual, but still business.
“I heard a noise.”
She looked to the side, probably by instinct, before she made eye contact again. He followed her initial gaze and bit his cheek when he saw the shattered lamp on the floor. It looked like it had been thrown.
“What did the lamp ever do to you?”
“It called me a bitch.”
He grimaced.
“I didn’t call you a bitch. I said you were being bitchy. And you were.”
She started to close the door.
He put his arm up to stop her.
“I don’t need this right now.” Her words were calm, but her aura was not.
He thrust the papers he had brought through the open door.
“You need this, though.”
“I told you eight o’clock tomorrow. You didn’t have to rush them over tonight.”
Her forehead smoothed and her expression softened.
“Thank you for dropping them by.”
“Hey, Reed. Can I ask you something?”
“Is it about the job?”
“Kind of. Why are you sitting in the dark?”
She sighed. Her lips tensed and relaxed and twitched. Her eyelids fluttered.
“The electricity doesn’t work.”
“Did you have it turned on with the electric company?”
“Of course I did. It worked earlier. It doesn’t work now. It’s okay, though. I have a lantern.”
She held up a small battery-operated lantern as proof.
“Mind if I take a look at the breakers?”
“It’s fine, really. I looked at them already. I’ll call an electrician tomorrow.”
“Why wait until tomorrow? I’m certified. Covered by insurance. Don’t worry. Let me get your lights on for you.”
She reluctantly stepped back, allowing him entry into her musty-smelling new home.
She looked so upper class with her fancy clothes, her professionally highlighted honey hair, and her unnatural-looking violet eyes. Her prissy little hybrid car in the driveway probably cost a pretty penny, too.
She looked like she belonged in a McMansion, not a rundown heap of old construction.
He brushed into her by accident as he entered. Instant boner. From only a tiny bit of arm to arm skin contact.
He had to get a hold of himself.
She led him down the rickety stairs to the back corner of the basement, where the circuit breakers were located. Though the house had a certain odor, her perfume caught him off-guard. She smelled like flowers, and he had the insane urge to pick her up and bury his face in her neck.
He chuckled to himself when he imagined her reaction.
“What’s so funny?”
Shit.
“Nothing. Did you try flipping the main switch?”
“Obviously.”
Rogan studied the box with the help of her lantern. The circuits were old and largely unmarked. He found the offending breaker nearly instantly. He flipped it into position and smiled as the lights buzzed on.
“How did you…?”
“You’re good at your job, I’m good at mine. Keep me around and I’ll get everything fixed up in no time.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about taking a shower.”
Well, damn. Now he was excited, too.
He willed his erection to go down as they strolled back to the stairs.
He needed this job. He couldn’t risk scaring her off.
Something caught his eye as she started up the stairs and he avoided watching her legs and ass. The pipes.
“Hey, boss.” Rogan moved over and reached up to touch one of the corroding pipes. “These don’t look good. Might need to factor in a replacement.”
She glared at the pipes. Then at him.
“Unless it’s on the list of violations, it isn’t happening. Not yet.”
“Hopefully they’ll hold.”
“They’d better.”
She started up the stairs again.
“So what made you decide to buy this old place, anyway?” Rogan asked.
“It has a brook.”
“A brook?”
“Yeah, you know. Running water. Small river. I saw the pictures online and thought it would be perfect.”
Rogan scratched his chin, not sure how to respond to such random reasoning.
“Where are your kids tonight? With your wife?”
Rogan bit the inside of his lip.
“She’s not around.”
“Oh, is she away for the week? Taking a mom break? Parenting experts recommend short retreats. So you get to play single dad, huh?”
“It’s more of a long-term commitment.”
“Oh, while you’re here, do you think you could help me move this entertainment center? It’s heavier than it looks, and it’s blocking this closet. I want to see what’s in there.”
“Sure.”
Moments later, he had moved the bulky furniture on his own.
“So what’s your deal? Married? Dating?” Curiosity drove his questioning. Besides, if she was taken it would be a whole lot easier to be around her.
“Divorced. Thank God. You?”
“Widowed.”
“Lucky!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes widening as she realized the gaffe she had made. “I am so sorry. I had a horrible divorce.”
“You’re blushing.” He smirked.
“I don’t blush.”
But she held her hands to her cheeks in what looked like an attempt to cool herself.
“I really am sorry.”
“Don’t worry. It was a while ago.”
“Your baby is almost one—did your wife die in childbirth?”
“Sort of. There was an accident and she died right before they delivered the baby.”
“That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”
Rogan didn’t like sympathy, hated pity. He rather liked how she was before—ordering him around, not knowing his tragic life circumstances, not feeling the need to tiptoe around him. He got enough of that from the people he knew around town.
“Any other jobs you need done tonight?”
“I think I’m good for now. Thank you again for getting the electricity on. I thought I had it.”
“Those things can be tricky sometimes. They require a special touch.”
And there he was again, imagining giving her a special touch. He had to get the hell out of there.
“See ya.”
“Rogan?”
“Yeah.” He paused at the top of the porch steps.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Don’t you want to look over the estimate?”
“No. I’ve made many business decisions with my gut. Don’t make me regret this one.”
He nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Chapter Three
“No kids today?” Reed’s mood was infinitely better, thanks to a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
“Nah, figured I’d give you a break. Don’t want you killing more lamps out of frustration, or squealing at the jump of a frog.”
“You’re really lucky I had a good sleep.”
She smiled over her shoulder as she strolled back into the house to prepare a pot of coffee.
Funny how much better rested she was here, even though her memory foam mattress and one-thousand-thread-count sheets had been left behind. Things here were rustic, but the fresh air must have done her a world of good.
She had spent far too long under fluorescent lights and in stuffy, poorly ventilated buildings.
New beginning?
Definitely.
She had changes to make. Big ones. And most of them had to do with her own personality.
As Rogan tackled the repair work, Reed performed a deep clean on the house she would inhabit. She had to get it in order before she went insane.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt.”
Reed removed her rubber gloves and turned her music down.
“Yes?”
“I’m breaking for lunch. You want anything?”
“Thanks for asking, but I’m okay. I had coffee.”
“Coffee? That’s not food.”
“Maybe later.” She smiled, then turned back to her work.
He grunted and groaned a bit, but he left her in peace.
Why was he growing even more attractive?
She couldn’t eat—her belly was too full of some sort of poisoned love potion. Lust potion. Whatever.
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