The problem was, she was already regretting it. Not because she didn't trust him, but because she was beginning to realize that having Dustin Fleming as a tenant was going to test every boundary she'd ever set for herself. Every rule she'd made about keeping her heart safe. Every promise she'd made about never falling for someone who couldn't promise to stay.
"I know," she said, and escaped to the safety of her own room before she could do something crazy like find out if he kissed as good as he looked.
Chapter 4
Dustin
Living with Vanessa Baldwin was going to test his self-control, and that wasn't something he was known for anyway. Three days into the arrangement, and Dustin was starting to understand that his injured ankle was the least of his problems. The real problem was the woman on the other side of the wall who'd somehow managed to become the only thing he could think about.
She had routines. Morning coffee at six-thirty, prepared in a machine that probably cost more than most people's rent. Shower at seven, accompanied by humming that made him picture her naked under the spray with soap sliding down curves he had no business imagining. Gone by eight-fifteen in her sensible sedan, dressed in business clothes even though she was just going to job interviews that kept leading nowhere.
He knew about the rejections because she left the emails open on her laptop, and he'd caught a glimpse while getting coffee yesterday morning. The woman had a business degree, five years of retail buying experience, and references that should have had employers fighting over her. But the economy had teeth these days, and even qualified people were getting chewed up and spit out.
It bothered him more than it should have. She was handling it with the same competence she brought to everything else, but he'd caught her staring out the kitchen window with an expression that had nothing to do with serenity and everythingto do with barely contained panic. And the urge to fix it for her, to make it better somehow, was getting harder to ignore.
He'd known her for three days. Three days, and he was already thinking like a man who had the right to solve her problems. Like a man who was planning to stick around long enough to matter.
Right now she was in the backyard, attacking weeds with the kind of intensity that suggested gardening was how she processed stress. He'd been watching her from his bedroom window, telling himself it was because he had nothing better to do and absolutely not because she'd changed out of her interview clothes into jeans that fit her like they'd been designed specifically to drive him insane.
His phone rang, interrupting his completely inappropriate study of how she moved when she thought no one was watching.
"Fleming."
"Dustin? It's Dr. Patterson. How's the ankle feeling?"
He tested his weight on it, noting the improvement from even two days ago. "Better. Still sore, but the swelling's down."
"Good. I wanted to let you know that Thunder's bloodwork came back, and everything looks excellent. Whatever you're doing for his conditioning program is working."
Thunder. His horse was the one constant in a life that had been nothing but variables for the past ten years. Four years ago, he'd bought the gelding from a rancher who was getting out of the business, and they'd developed the kind of partnership that made the difference between winning and eating arena dirt.
Except lately, when he thought about Thunder, he also thought about Vanessa. About whether she'd like his horse. Whether Thunder would nuzzle her hand looking for treats. Whether she'd laugh at his shameless begging or roll her eyes at Dustin for spoiling him.
Whether she'd fit into his world the way she was already fitting into his head.
"He's been antsy being stuck in a stall. I've been hand-walking him when I can manage it."
"The exercise is good for both of you. But don't push too hard too fast. You've got time."
Time. Everyone kept telling him he had time, but time in rodeo was different than time in the real world. Every month he spent on the sidelines was a month closer to thirty, and thirty was when most riders started looking for careers that didn't involve getting stepped on by animals that outweighed them by half a ton.
"I know. Just ready to get back out there."
Except he wasn't. Not really. Not when getting back out there meant leaving this house, leaving morning coffee in a kitchen that smelled like Vanessa's perfume, and leaving the possibility of a real grown up relationship with a woman who knocked his socks off.
"Understandable. But remember what we talked about. Rushing back too soon could turn a few weeks off into a permanent problem."
After she hung up, he went back to watching Vanessa's gardening project. She'd moved on to planting something, her movements sharp and focused like she was declaring war on the flower bed. The afternoon sun caught the blonde in her hair, and when she pushed a strand behind her ear, he got a clear view of the line of her neck.
He was definitely losing his mind.
The smart thing would be to grab his gear and head out to check on Thunder. Get some distance, some perspective, maybe some sanity. But his truck keys were on the kitchen counter and getting them meant walking past the back window whereshe might see him watching her, and he wasn't ready for that conversation yet.
Wasn't ready to admit that he'd been watching her instead of acting like a grown man who should know better.
Instead, he limped to the kitchen and started going through her cabinets. She'd said he could use anything he needed, and what he needed was to cook something that would fill the house with enough good smells to maybe get her attention in ways that didn't involve him staring at her through windows.
Her spice collection was impressive for someone who seemed to live on takeout and frozen meals. He pulled out what he needed for his grandmother's chili recipe, the one he'd perfected over years of cooking for himself on the road.
