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“I don’t need to.”

“You do.”

“Stop telling me what I need.”

That almost-smile appears again and it changes his face just enough to make him more dangerous.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

I step closer.

Maybe it’s stupid but I’m angry enough not to care. “You don’t scare me, Dane Miller.”

His gaze drags slowly down my body and returns to my eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“Good.” The word comes out rough.

My pulse kicks.

His eyes sharpen.

I lower my voice. “Whatever you think is going to happen here, it isn’t.”

Dane bends slightly, bringing his mouth closer to my ear without touching me.

Every muscle in my body locks. “I need a wife.”

His breath warms my skin.

I force myself not to move.

He straightens. “You need a hundred thousand dollars.”

I glare up at him.

Dane finally smiles. “Seems like your uncle finally had a good idea.”

Chapter 2

Dane

Ididn’t bid a hundred thousand dollars on Lila Dawson because I was drunk.

I don’t drink enough to make mistakes that expensive.

I did it because I’ve spent six months watching her.

Not in a creepy way.

I watch her carry casseroles into the Devil’s Peak nursing home every Sunday afternoon. I’ve seen her deliver soup to Mrs. Watkins from the church when the old woman is sick, then come back two days later to shovel her driveway because apparently feeding people isn’t enough.

I’ve watched Lila climb onto the roof of Dawson Lodge with a toolbox strapped around her waist because Hank can’t manage ladders anymore.

He took a bad fall three years ago. Shattered his hip, screwed up his leg, and has walked with a limp ever since. Somewhere between the painkillers, retirement, and realizing his niece could run the place better than he ever did, Hank developed an enthusiastic relationship with whiskey.