Behind Closed Doors. Debbi Rawlins

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      “HEY, BETH.”

      She heard the familiar voice coming from behind. It was Craig, a guy she’d met at the Watering Hole, walking from the barn toward her. “Hey, yourself.”

      “What are you doing out here, darlin’?” He flashed her that boyish grin he used on every woman who entered the bar. “Looking for me?”

      Beth laughed. “You caught me,” she said, throwing in a coy smile. “Now, what was your name again?”

      “Ouch.” He was a couple years younger than her and liked laying on the cowboy charm, but he was harmless and knew how to take no for an answer. He slid his hat off when he reached her and wiped his smudged face with the red bandanna tied around his neck, his grin widening. “That’s okay, darlin’. You know I like my women sassy.”

      “And I like my hired men working when they’re on the clock,” Nathan said, and how she could have forgotten he was there, even for a second, was ridiculous.

      Craig didn’t seem overly concerned with the gruff remark. “Wait till you hear that engine, boss. I got the tractor purring like a kitten.”

      Beth had turned to Nathan. She didn’t think he was really upset, but he was doing her a huge favor and she couldn’t afford to aggravate him. She found him watching her, his whiskey-brown eyes taking inventory of her face and throat, and she felt that annoying flutter in her chest again.

      He switched his attention to Craig, who’d asked him a question about the tractor, and this was the first chance Beth had to really look without fear of being caught staring. No ifs, ands or buts, she was going to kill Rachel. It didn’t matter that Rachel was engaged. She still had a duty to warn a person about to meet a hottie like Nathan Landers for the first time. For heaven’s sake, a simple heads-up was an unspoken rule that every woman understood.

      The man was well over six feet of lean muscle with broad shoulders and a strong jaw shadowed by a day’s worth of sexy dark stubble. His nearly black hair seemed to be cut in a traditional style, though he hadn’t removed his hat so she didn’t know for sure. And yes, she might’ve preferred it a bit longer but...

      His gaze shifted back to her, those dreamy light brown eyes catching her off guard. “Where do you live?”

      “Me?” She went blank for a moment. “Why?” she asked, noting the lazy, sensual curve to his mouth even when he wasn’t smiling.

      “Just wondering how you plan on moving that lumber.”

      “Oh. My truck.”

      He lifted the brim of his hat and frowned at her pickup. “That?”

      She nodded. “Two trips ought to do it. I’m only going to Blackfoot Falls...to the old boardinghouse.”

      “You bought the place?”

      “Yes,” she said, sighing. “I’m turning it into an inn. Nothing elaborate, only a dozen rooms. I’m trying to keep the early-1900s feel to the place.” She glanced toward the large single-level home with its beautiful stonework and arched entry. “The whole inn could probably fit in your house. It’s amazing, by the way. I love all the details. Did you build it yourself?”

      Their gazes met, the sudden distrust in his eyes taking her by surprise. He said nothing, his expression growing more aloof as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

      So much for pleasantries. Fine. She was tired and already not looking forward to making a second trip. “Tell me where the lumber is and I’ll move my truck.”

      “Inside the east barn,” Nathan said absently, his attention on his phone as though he’d already dismissed her.

      Miffed with his rudeness and trying not to react, she turned and saw several rust-colored buildings. The closest one was obviously a barn, and she guessed that the large, freshly painted structure behind it near the trees might be the stables. Everything, from the house with its wide circular drive to the dozen or so outbuildings, was in prime shape.

      She cast another longing look at the lovely home with the oversize windows and rose beds.

      It finally hit her.

      How could she have been so insensitive? That home had to have been built for his late wife. Beth doubted he kept the gardens tended for his own enjoyment. Even the small charming courtyard between the wrought iron gate and the front door was well maintained.

      “I know where the lumber is,” Craig said, startling her because she thought he’d left. “I’ll show you where to park, then go grab Troy. We’ll have you loaded in no time.”

      “No.” Beth shook her head. “Just point me in the right direction. I can handle the rest.”

      Craig snorted. “You can’t load by yourself.”

      “You’d СКАЧАТЬ