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I’ve tried calling her a few times over the last few days. Texting her. Anything.
Hasn’t done a damn bit of good.
She’s just stonewalled me completely.
I think if I tried driving out there, I’d get a load of buckshot up my ass for the trouble.
It’s still on my mind days later when I’m looking over the fire damage repairs on a fabric shop that got blown out the back with a makeshift incendiary way back when the whole arson mess in town started last winter.
I’m not thinking about building codes or zoning or fire statutes as I do the inspection with my crew and the owner of the building, a young woman named Carmine Andrews, trailing in my wake.
I’m thinking about Libby, Libby, and oh yeah, Libby.
Damn her.
Girl’s worse than an untamed bronco.
She’s got her feelings all hot about the mess with her ranch and her pride—and now nothing’s going to get through. Push her more, and she’ll just dig her heels in.
Stubborn little monster.
I just hate that she’s even more gorgeous when she’s pissed.
Hate it even more how telling her that would just make her furious.
I can’t help a faint smile, though, while I leaf through wiring diagrams where my boys had to put in a whole new wall and salvage what was left of the existing building wiring before patching in new shit up to code.
I’m looking at it, but I’m not really seeing it.
I’m seeing Libby when she basically told me to fuck off a cliff and die, seeing how those witchfire blue eyes just lit up.
If she’s a witch, then she’s sure as hell cast a spell on m—
“—erton? Mr. Silverton, are you listening?”
“Huh?” I lift my head, blinking.
The owner—it was Carol, right?
No, Carmine. She stands in front of me, looking up with a smile and a little toss of her head. She’s clearly expecting an answer.
Aw, shit.
I didn’t even realize she’d been talking.
I offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ma’am, a lot on the mind. What was that?”
She falters but then starts over. “I just said I wanted to thank you for the personal attention and detail you put into this job. You live up to your reputation for a man who likes working with his hands.”
I flash her another quick smile and look back down at the wiring diagrams, checking one last thing. “Is that my reputation around these parts now? I’ll take it. Just glad you’re happy with the job, ma’am.”
She doesn’t answer, which gets my attention more than anything.
I look up again, and she’s staring at me with her brows knit together and a bit of a pout.
Then, with a sniff, she turns and walks away, pretending to be too interested in arranging one of the display dummies just fresh out of its box of packing peanuts.
I glance over at my crew foreman, Alaska Charter.
“What’d I do now?” I mutter from the corner of my mouth.
“It’s what you didn’t do.” He snorts, a chuckle that makes his burly chest shake. He’s a big man, the kind of cement slab of a human you want to have on your crew. Leaning toward me, he mock-whispers in my ear. “Girl was trying to hook up with your clueless ass, boss.”
“Oh.”
Oh, shit.
I take a second look—really looking at her this time.
She’s tall, a little over average height, shapely with thick, lush hips. Today she’s dressed to accent all her best assets. I can’t help but wonder if she’s always got her blouse unbuttoned enough to see the scalloped lace edges of her bra.
Or if that’s my invitation, and I missed it.
I hadn’t even noticed.
Think I’ve missed a lot of things, honestly, like the glossy shine of her lips or the deliberate toss of her hair. I replay the highlights reel of the walk-through and only then do I realize the number of times this woman must’ve looked up at me through her lashes, waiting for me to notice and live up to my other reputation.
It just hadn’t sunk in.
Now, there she is, ripe for the plucking.
Here I am, cataloging details instead of salivating to take her home.
“Oh,” I repeat, and Alaska snickers.
I smack his arm and give him a dirty look.
“Stop that. She’ll realize we’re talking about her, and you’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“Oh, so you’re caring about their feelings now and not their cup size?” He smirks, giving me a once-over like he’s never seen me before. “I thought you’d be after her number in a heartbeat. Or maybe these small-town pickings aren’t good enough after you left your supermodel harem behind in the city?”
I roll my eyes and thwack his arm again.
“You know I didn’t have any sort of harem,” I mutter. “And you know damn well my name’s like mud here.”
“Only because you broke a few too many hearts a long time ago, from what I hear.” He grins wickedly. “No woman hates you quite the same as a woman who used to love you.”
