I bit my lip. “Oh. Sorry about that. Still doesn’t explain why you’re not dressed.”
He turned in my direction, eyes sweeping over me. It was chilly in the mornings, so I’d put on black leggings and a fitted long-sleeved shirt. Under his gaze, I felt about as naked as he was.
“You seem to fixate on the fact that I’m naked,” he said.
My hand twitched. I leaned against the counter and gripped the edge to keep myself still. “I just think it’s weird to be in the kitchen with nothing between your ass and the mountain air but a flimsy towel.”
“You worried about my ass now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What? No, I just…I don’t want you to get cold, that’s all.”
He stalked closer, the front of his towel gaping just enough to draw my eyes downward. I took a small step back until the counter pressed into my spine.
He was close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his chest. I could smell the woodsy scent of his soap. I could see every individual strand of stubble on his jaw.
And why the hell was I staring at his mouth?
He planted a hand on the counter beside my hip and leaned in. “If you were worried about me being cold, you shouldn’t have used all the goddamn hot water.” He glanced at the counter. “Or drank the rest of my coffee, for that matter.”
He held my gaze for a moment longer, just long enough for me to register that my panties were damp, before he pushed offthe counter and stalked toward the hallway.
I watched his ass as he went. Déjà vu from yesterday, but it was more than that.
I just wasn’t sure how much more.
Chapter Eight
Grant
Igot dressed, seething about my cold shower, and my lack of a second cup of coffee. This was why I had always done my own thing. This was why I had preferred to live alone. Walt had been an anomaly. Now I had a full day of shit to do while under-caffeinated and with soap residue still clinging to my skin.
I came out of my room and headed toward the kitchen, only to find Kara at the table with her laptop open. She looked casual and comfortable, like she belonged there, while I was still simmering. I headed to grab my boots but stopped in my tracks. She had come here to take over this cabin, but did she have any idea how much work it took to maintain it?
I couldn’t kid myself. The odds were that this place would be hers in the end. She was Walt’s family after all.
I’d be damned if all the work Walt and I had done to keep this place standing would crumble to nothing if she took possessionof it.
“Put your boots on, we have work to do,” I said, grabbing my own and getting to work on the laces.
She perked her head up. “We do?” She put emphasis on the wordwe.
I nodded, then walked out the door without further conversation, the cool air doing nothing to calm my overheated nerves.
I didn’t expect her to actually follow. When a minute went by without her appearing, it gave my anger some much-needed justification.
See? People let you down. Better to just do everything by myself and for myself.
The first job on my list was to re-stain the wood of the front deck. It got covered in snow, ice, and salt all winter, then beaten by the sun all summer, so it was due for a re-coat.
I went to the shed to grab the supplies, and when I came back, I was surprised to find Kara standing on the deck. She had on a pair of boots and one of Walt’s old flannel shirts over a T-shirt and leggings. She bounded down the stairs toward me.
“How can I help?”
Her response made me more irritated than it should have. Losing my justification for being pissed off just pissed me off more.
I handed her a paintbrush. “We need to do another coat of stain on the front—”
“Did you wash it first?” She asked, walking closer to the wooden railing and running her hand over it. “You have to wash it and let it dry before you can stain it.”
