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My excitement deflates in two seconds flat when, through the window over the sink, I spot Declan Maxwell’s truck pulling into the driveway. “You didn’t tell me you switched days with your bookkeeper,” I say pulling free of the hug, hoping the tremble in my chest isn’t detectable in my voice.
I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid Declan as much as possible since Haley’s wedding. The way I’m drawn to him is terrifying. I’m in Daisy Hills to start a new chapter in my life. The last thing I need is a tall, dark, and handsome distraction to derail all my plans. And derail them, he would. Because all I seem to want to do when the man is around is throw myself into his arms and surrender to him. To forget about things like reality.
I never get this way.
“I had to move things around this week—for my date.” Ester wriggles her eyebrows, but before I can pry about this surprising piece of news, there’s a knock at the kitchen door.
I squeak and toss my hand over my mouth in embarrassment.
I need to get out of here—stat. But my damn feet seem cemented to the floor.
Declan struts in, a t-shirt suffocating his biceps and pectorals. The stone blue color is faded, but I can still make out the design. It’s a shirt from a firefighter charity auction a few years ago. I can’t help but wonder who the lucky bidder was that got to take Declan out for a night on the town.
An irrational pang of jealousy shoots through me.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
Liar.
“Ester, I’m sorry about that sprinkler system,” Declan says, stealing side glances at me and interrupting the inner monologue turned argument happening in my head. A small shopping bag dangles from his fingers. Fingers I’ve secretly imagined roaming my body more times than I can count.
I need to get a grip.
I need to get laid.
That’s it. A one-night, no-strings-attached thing. With some stranger who’s not Declan Maxwell. Someone I can have scratch the itch and not miss when they leave. That’s how I’ve handled things most of my life, and I’ve never once regretted it. It was a much easier arrangement when I was bartending in the city.
But in a small town …
Never mind that the idea of any other man touching me kills my lusty fantasies instantly. I think I’m in serious trouble.
“I brought you ladies a treat,” Declan says, lifting the bag in offering before he sets it on the kitchen table.
“Sweetening us up because of the bad news, Marshal?” At least I have my snark as a defense. Never mind my wobbly knees that force me to prop my hand on the counter for balance. I peek into the bag—white chocolate? Dammit. Wetness dampens my panties. The thoughtful firefighter oozes sexiness without effort, and it’s scrambling my brain. I pretend I don’t care about the gift—who told him anyway?—but my tastebuds are dying for a truffle.
“There’s not much I can do about that,” Declan admits, looking genuinely compassionate.
“It’s not your fault,” Ester says, waving toward a chair and urging him to sit down at the kitchen table. It’s now that I notice her giant ledger with its worn cover. No amount of convincing has persuaded my great-aunt to so much as consider a computer. “Knox warned me that the system was on its last legs.”
“He did?” I pipe up, surprised at this bit of news.
“Couple years ago.” Ester looks at me with sympathy, though I swear there’s a twinkle in her eye I can’t quite trust. Is she up to something? “Hope this doesn’t push back your grand opening, sweetie.”
“That depends on how quickly we can get it replaced.” I stare at Declan, intending to put him on the spot. The irritatingly sexy man doesn’t even have the decency to squirm in his seat. He’s not unsettled by me in the least. Just another reason I should keep my distance. I’ve never been a woman who gave away her power when it comes to man.
With Declan, would I even have any?
“I made a few calls,” Declan says, an easy smile spread across those oh-so-kissable lips. Look away, Cassidy! Look away! “I have a friend who can get it done early next week, barring any unforeseen setbacks. Probably have is finished by Thursday.”
Thursday. Meaning I could still keep the grand opening scheduled for next Saturday. One I’ve been advertising all over town and online. It’ll be a juggling act, trying to get bookshelves stocked and ambiance staged around a construction zone, all for the professional photos I plan to use online to hopefully draw in a huge crowd on opening weekend.
But this unfortunate arrangement sounds like a better alternative than pushing back the grand opening date.
“He’s a little short-staffed at the moment. One of his guys is out with a broken leg,” Declan explains, that carefree smile still in place. As though this admission isn’t causing him any heartburn. And why would it? It’s not his dream on the line. “But I happen to have some free time coming up and offered to give him a hand.”
If I still had my coffee, I’d have choked on it.
