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“You never told me yours. You first.” I sit at the table with him, metering my breath as best as I can. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to a man. I’m a grown woman. I can talk to a handsome man and not lose my shit.
I repeat that mantra to myself a half a dozen times in the span of five seconds, though it doesn’t help. My heart only races faster and my panties only feel wetter. Maybe it’s his size, the timber in his voice, the intensity in his gaze.
His face is expressionless as he says, “I told you. Men don’t dream.”
“And I told you they do. So, what’s yours?”
“Aside from keeping you off that stage? I’d say my dream has always been building. I like doing what I do.”
“Wow.Deep. I don’t think that garners my secrets.” I shrug. “Sorry, but I’m going to need more. Something you haven’t told anyone… ever.”
He stares at me with a straight face, and I watch his mind work. I’ve never seen anything like this before. There’s a whole world computing behind his gaze. I’d bet he’s wondering how to weave in the stripping thing again, but as he tips his head to the side, he’s more thoughtful than he has been before. “Listen, little rabbit, I don’t say this to everyone…”
There’s that name again. My heart hammers against my chest.
“It’s been years since I’ve even found a woman attractive, but last night when I went to the cabin, I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He stands and stalks toward me, moving slowly until his hand is in mine. I’m backed against the corner where the edges of the countertop meet. “Your pretty little lips, that thick waist, and your smart-ass mouth.” He sighs warm air against my cheek. “That’s a problem because I don’t get attached this quickly. So, I jerked off, thinking this was all some stupid fucking fantasy. But this morning, I woke up wanting your apple pie again.”
I swallow hard and stare up at him.
His hand lands beneath my chin as he lifts my gaze to his. “I won’t apologize for wanting you safe, but if you need me to say I’m sorry for muddying your life up with my feelings, I can. I agree, they’re a fucking mess.” His big, rough hand trails down over my shoulder. “Do you want me to apologize for that?”
My panties soak even wetter with the heat of his breath against the lobe of my ear. Truthfully, everything he just said is the most backwards thing ever. He’s not apologizing for all the things he should be apologizing for, and he’s apologizing for the one thing he shouldn’t be… his feelings.
I’ve never been more turned on in my life, but I can’t do this. Lainey’s sister may have made sense of a big, grumpy, mountain man, but I have kids to think about.
“I need you to go,” I say, staggering in a breath. I’m not very convincing and he knows it given the way he steps in closer.
“Are you sure… because I feel like you want something different.”
That would be a very accurate interpretation of what’s happening right now. That said, I stick to what few guns I have left. “Yes. I want you to go. And more importantly, don’t come back tomorrow asking for another slice of pie, or anything. Please just finish the roof.”
He nods and slowly moves away, ushering in cool air where his warm body was a moment ago.
I want him back. I want him against me. I want him to do all the dirty, filthy things I know that man is capable of. I see it in his eyes. He wants to be bad, and I want to let him.
“I’ll leave, but like I said, I’m not leaving you alone. You need someone to watch out for you until you get your head out of your ass. That someone’s gonna be me.”
“Is this how all your romances start, because I have to say, it’s insanely endearing.” I roll my eyes.
He smiles, this time for real. “Be good, little rabbit. I’ll be watching out for you.”
With that, he steps out onto the porch and climbs the ladder back up to my roof, leaving me in a puddle of desire and a nickname I didn’t know I was so desperate for.
Chapter Six
Atlas
Dark red lights work the crowd as Peyton takes center stage. The club isn’t what I expected. It’s set up like a country western bar with neon lights and bull skulls affixed to the walls. A DJ plays a country music mix that’s fast and upbeat while a bunch of assholes sit around ogling my little rabbit.
Well, technically, she’s not my rabbit at all. She’s a woman who wants me to stay the hell away from her.Too bad I can’t do that.
I sit in the back at a short round table where a waitress in cowboy boots and shorts riding up her ass asks me if I want a drink for the thirteenth time tonight. It’s her job, and I should be patient with people doing their jobs, but clearly, I can’t be. I hate everything about this place. The faint scent of smoke, the blaring speakers, the drunk, rowdy men hollering obscenities, the hot stuffy air, the heavy scent of cheap cologne, the buzz of the neon lights. This isn’t a place for a woman like Peyton. If she’s showing her body to anyone, it should be out of love, not because she needs money to pay for a fucking roof.
The music somehow gets louder as I watch the strap of her dress fall off her shoulder and then the other.
Men scream and holler and the lights pulse from one side of the room to the next.
She tugs at her dress, anchoring the tight fabric around her breasts before she turns away and shakes her bottom.
