“I better catch up with Dale.”
He walked past me toward where Dale waited, and this time I let myself watch. Let myself appreciate the way his shoulders looked, the way his jeans fit his ass, the way he moved with that controlled power that made me want to see him lose control.
Made me want to be the reason he lost control.
The moment he was out of earshot, I let out a long, shaky breath and slumped against the workbench, pressing my thighs together against the ache.
One day. I’d survived one day of working with Crew Crawford.
And I had a sinking feeling that by the time he left Lone Mountain, I was going to be completely ruined for any other man.
Assuming I don’t spontaneously combust from sexual frustration first.
CHAPTER THREE
Crew
I made it to my truck before I had to adjust myself.
Fuck.
I was hard as steel, my cock straining against my jeans, and all because Charlotte had stood close enough that I could smell her. All because she’d looked up at me with those green eyes and I’d seen something there. Want, maybe. Or maybe I was just projecting my own desperate need onto her.
Either way, I was screwed.
I climbed into the truck and sat there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to get myself under control. Trying not to think about how badly I’d wanted to back her up against that workbench. To cage her in with my arms and find out if her mouth tasted as good as it looked.
She’s your boss. She’s too young. She’s too good. And you’re only here because you owe Race.
I repeated it like a mantra, but my body didn’t give a shit about logic. My body only cared about the way her curves had looked in those jeans. The way her shirt had pulled across her breasts when she’d leaned over to look at the notes. The way she’d bitten her lower lip when she was concentrating, making me want to soothe the spot with my tongue.
The way she’d looked at me—like maybe she wanted me too. Could she feel the same raw need clawing through my gut.
Stop.
I couldn’t go down that road. I couldn’t let myself believe that the heat I felt was mutual. Because even if it was, even if Charlotte looked at me and saw something worth wanting, I had nothing to offer her. I was a forty-year-old ex-soldier with PTSD and nightmares and a body covered in scars. I was broken in ways that couldn’t be fixed, and she was...
She was sunshine. Competence wrapped in curves, running a business with the kind of quiet strength that came from years of proving herself. She didn’t need someone like me bringing darkness into her life.
Even if every cell in my body was screaming that she was mine.
I started the truck and headed back to the cabin Race was loaning me for the duration of my stay. The roads were getting bad, snow having fallen all day.
Yeah, I was attracted to her. Above and beyond anything I’d ever felt before.
I forced myself to ignore the ache in my groin. I forced myself not to replay every moment of the day—the way she’d smiled when I’d caught the error in the notes and how her voice had gone slightly breathless when she’d asked if I was coming back tomorrow.
I told her I would because I owed Race.
I’d lied. I’d known the moment I caught her in my arms that I’d be there until she no longer needed me. My staying now had nothing to do with the debt I owed Race.
I wanted to see her again. Wanted to be near her, even if I couldn’t touch. Even if all I could do was watch her work and torture myself with thoughts of what could never be.
You’re fucked, solider. Completely fucked.
The cabin was cold when I got there, and the first thing I did was start a fire in the fireplace. I grabbed a beer from my supplies and walked back outside, letting the cabin heat up. Thesmall porch looked out at the dark forest. It was quiet here. Isolated. Just the way I liked it.
Except now, all I could think about was Charlotte. About green eyes and soft curves and a smile that made something in my chest ache.
