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"Yeah," I say, feeling a twinge of sadness. That’s what everyone always said about my grandpa, that he was a recluse but a a good guy.
When he died suddenly a few months ago, he left me with this old, rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It’s all I have of him, so I want to honor it. I want to honor him.
"I'll get started on these repairs right away," Gray says, interrupting my thoughts. "You gonna be okay here alone for a couple of days?"
"I'll be fine," I say, trying to sound confident. "I'm used to being alone."
Gray looks at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. "Well, if you do get lonely, you know where to find me."
I feel a blush rising up in my cheeks. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
He grins and heads back inside, leaving me standing on the porch, feeling more alive than I have in years.
Maybe Harvey was wrong after all. Maybe I can find love again.
Chapter four
Gray
Icancelallmyplans.
Sure, I had other gigs, other houses to visit. My crew is annoyed that I moved everything back on the schedule, and they're begging me for work, but I insist on handling the Sawyer cabin alone.
I want more time with Claire.
And call me a selfish son-of-a-bitch, but it's worth it.
There's enough work to be done on the house that it'll last me a week or two if I drag it out. The things that are pressing will get done first—that leak in the roof, for one.
I hate that she's sleeping in a room so wet when it rains, especially as the rainy Oregon fall comes creeping up on us. I wish old man Sawyer had told me all this stuff was broken; I would have been happy to fix it for him. I’m not surprised he didn’t, he always struck me as a proud man, but I wouldn’t have minded helping him out.
God knows he helped me out when I most needed it.
But Dave is gone, and now somebody has to take care of his granddaughter—the apple of his eye. I can at least do that for him.
I'm more than willing to step into that role.
Since I moved up to Oregon, I've been alone. It's been just me and my work, but just being around Claire has changed that. There's something about her that draws me in, something that makes me want to protect her and make sure she's okay. Maybe it's the way she looks at me, with those big brown eyes that seem to see right through me. Maybe it's the way she smiles at me, a little shyly, like she's not used to being around someone like me.
Whatever it is, I can't resist it.
I'm eager to get over to her place when I pack up the truck the morning after I first met her, bringing all my spare stuff with me. I should probably charge her for the supplies I'll need for this job—it's gonna cost me a pretty penny—but I already know I won't charge her an extra dime. A girl like that, with a body like that and an infections smile...?
Hell, I would do this forfree.
I start fantasizing as I drive up 224 to the Sawyer place, thinking about what I'd do to her if I met her at a bar and if I wasn't working with her. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I do a hell of a lot of daydreaming when I'm out on my own—and it's not like she'll ever know about my dirty fantasies. I think about how I'd take off her clothes piece by piece, then lay her out in front of me. I've got a big oak kitchen island at my place—she'd look nice on it, naked and begging. Jesus, I bet she tastes fucking incredible.
I swerve when a fox runs across the path, shaking my head vigorously.
Get your head out of the gutter, Gray.
She's sitting on the porch with her head in a book when I pull up, her bare feet propped up on the railing. Her eyes lift to my truck, and a smile spreads across her face. Damn, that smile could light up the whole town.
"Hey there," she calls out as I get out of my truck.
"Morning, Claire," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Ready for me to get started on the house?"
"Definitely," she says, setting her book aside and standing up. "I'm excited to see what you can do with it."
