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Yeah.
She just wished it was on the other side of her flogger.
With that delicious image lingering in her mind, she fell into a deep sleep, the nightmares kept at bay by one big Texan with a dimpled smile and a stubborn attitude.
Chapter 4
Gibson’s body was too long for the couch, so he’d only managed a couple of hours of sleep, but he didn’t care. He was here. Sam was safely tucked away upstairs. He’d deal with any discomfort involved as long as he could guarantee that.
When he’d driven along the winding, overgrown road that led to the place, he’d never been so worried in his life. This place was at least two miles from anything but fields and cows. Beyond some psycho finding Sam out here alone, what would happen if she hurt herself? Remodeling a house alone was never a good idea. Too many things could go wrong. But out here where cell phones didn’t work? That was crazy. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he would call out his guy friends on something like that, too.
He’d always been drawn to Sam because of her moxie and take-no-prisoners attitude. That was sexy to him in so many ways he couldn’t list them all. She was all fire and sharp edges. But sometimes she could take that invincible attitude too far. He got that she didn’t want anyone to see her as anything but the spirited tough girl. He got that more than she realized. He’d grown up having to shield weak spots, too. But when she’d opened the door this morning, looking so broken-down and emptied out, the harsh ache in his chest had nearly cracked him open.
That shit was unacceptable. No one got to hurt Sam like that, make her cry, put their hands on her. Those idiots from the bar were lucky he didn’t know how to find them. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from tearing them apart with his bare hands.
But if he couldn’t take out the threat, at least he could be here to take care of Sam now. Not that she’d actually let him take care of her. He was under no assumption that he’d won this battle. Once she got a good block of sleep and had her full strength, she’d be back to trying to kick him out. He was prepared to be the ultimate pain in the ass, though. He wasn’t going anywhere unless she came with him.
Hard limit.
After trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch and almost setting off a charley horse in his leg, he gave up on getting any more sleep. He got up off the couch, made a trip to the half-finished bathroom down the hall, and then strolled over to examine the unfinished dining room. Sasha got up from the spot she’d adopted by the unlit fireplace in the living room and followed. Her new best friend, Darcy, joined her. Click, click, click. Nothing more comforting than dog nails tapping on wood.
Gibson reached out to scratch Sash’s head as she sat next to him, her butt half on his foot. “Need to go out, pretty girl?”
Sasha whined and did a little hop with her front legs. Darcy’s tail thumped the floor in a frenetic beat, and he got that near-manic look border collies seemed to be so good at. Let’s do this, bitches! That’s what Darcy seemed to be saying.
“All right, you two. I hear ya. Time to get a taste of the country.” He led them through the kitchen and opened up the back door. There was a large space behind the house that looked to be a long-neglected vegetable garden, but it was fenced and may as well have been labeled Curious Dog Paradise. The dogs bolted outside, happily barking and chasing off the crows that had been pecking around for breakfast. Gib watched them for a while, enjoying their exuberance and making sure they weren’t going to mess with anything that could get them into trouble, then he let the screen door shut and went back inside.
The floors creaked as he made his way back to the front of the house. He examined the dining room with critical eyes. It looked like one small patch of floor was left. Sam had been close to done when he’d interrupted last night. Yet another valid reason for her to be mad at him.
He squatted down and picked up the sanding machine. It’d been a while since he’d tackled any home improvement projects. His position as head of PR at Vandergriff kept him too busy. But when he’d first bought his house, it had been in pretty rough shape. He’d taken on weekend projects to get it how he wanted it. He’d learned a lot and messed up more. A handyman, he was not. But he understood the satisfaction Sam probably got from doing this herself. It could be cathartic.
“I don’t suggest you turn that on unless you know what to do with it,” Sam said from behind him.
He turned around, finding her at the bottom of the stairs, raven hair damp and twisted into a messy bun atop her head. Face scrubbed clean. She looked so young standing there. He was used to seeing her with her dark eyeliner and hair done in some quirky way. But this version of her was just as breath-stealing. He held up the sander. “Don’t turn it on unless I know wh
at to do with it. There’s a dirty joke in there.”
She smirked, some of that trademark attitude back, despite the lingering ghosts in her eyes. “So do you? Know what to do?”
“With a woman or home improvement equipment?”
“I already know you know what to do with a woman.”
He tilted his head. Flirty Sam. Yes. Yes, he liked this. “I’m not quite as skilled with machinery, but I can hold my own. Why? Gonna put me to work to earn my keep?”
She walked forward, her beat-up Vans silent on the floors. “Hmm, now there’s an idea.”
The tone of her voice had slipped into a dangerous place, one he recognized. One his body recognized. “I don’t mind helping.”
She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, her vintage No Doubt T-shirt stretching thin across her breasts as she considered him. “Is that right?”
He lost his focus for a moment just looking at her. Her shirt read Just A Girl, but that was far from the truth. She was so much more. A fucking mystery wrapped up in smarts and sex appeal and kink. He’d only gotten to touch her once, but he hadn’t forgotten how those pert breasts had felt in his palms, how her body had responded to his touch, how it had seemed like the goddamned sun had come out when he’d made her come. His blood rushed south at the memory, and he had to shift his stance to tamp down the reaction. How big of an asshole would he be, getting hard and horny the morning after Sam had been attacked? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can help with whatever you need.”
Her smile was quick, not too big, but enough to punch him in the gut. “Those are mighty vague terms, Gib. You should know how dangerous that is in negotiations. I could make you strip naked and clean the bathroom grout with a toothbrush while I sip iced tea and watch.”
He set down the sander and ran a hand over the back of his hair. She’d meant it as a joke. He tried to smile but managed only a tight grimace. Any image where he got on his knees for her pushed that forbidden button inside him. “Right.”
The silver ring in her eyebrow twitched up as if she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. “Nah, never mind. I know how you can help. Leave.”
