Page 12 of Vicious Sabotage

Carver clenched his fists at his sides. He’d run rescue missions. Hell, he’d even protected diplomats.

Working with Livia was harder.

A moment later, she returned carrying a bundle of bedding. She dropped it at his feet. “You get the couch. Hope you have a terrible rest.”

He doubted he’d sleep at all. Not when anyone could blast through that single cheap door lock and invade her house.

Without another word, she spun around and stalked back to her bedroom. Her stiff spine warred with the twitch of her curvy hips. She probably wasn’t even aware that her attitude and her body operated in different universes.

One screamed tough girl.

The other? Come get me.

As he picked up the pillow and blanket she dropped on the floor, his mind worked at the puzzle that was his new ward.

His very resistant, uncooperative, sassy ward.

Owning a bar and dealing with men probably gave her a hard exterior. Truth be told, he couldn’t spot even a tiny scrap of a soft inside to balance that out.

She was a tough woman who climbed on her bar to get her customers’ attention and broke up fights like she did it on an hourly basis. Hell, she might. Eden, Montana didn’t seem all that civilized, for all the many churches lining each side of the main road.

After dumping the bedding on the couch—equally as small as the rest of the place—he returned to the front door. There had to be some better way to secure it. After a moment, he moved a vase of daisies in a blue jug from the blue painted entry table and set it in front of the door.

It wouldn’t hold back a home invader, but the object would tip over and make a noise to alert Wolfe before an intruder ever took a step through the door.

“What are you doing with my flowers?”

He pivoted to look at Livia. She hadn’t changed out of the clothes she wore to the bar, but she had run a brush through her hair. The long mass lay smooth over her shoulder. Less tangled than it had been from the night of constant work.

“That’s an old trick,” he told her.

“Pretty sure you learned it from a cartoon cat.”

He couldn’t stop the short huff of laughter from bursting past his lips. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t watched cartoons in a long time. What’s it been for you? Five years?”

The dimple sucked into her cheek, creating a deep pucker to go along with her scowl of disapproval. “I see this is going to be a long night.”

He nodded in agreement. “A very long one.”

After Livia walked away, Carver made his humble bed on the couch and listened to the sounds of the house. The refrigerator hummed. Despite the late hour, a neighbor across the street was playing country music, the notes drifting through their open window.

And Livia took a long shower.

The first few minutes, he tuned out the sound of the water. But soon, he was picturing her naked within those white tiled walls he’d checked out. Her freckled skin streaked pink from the warmth of the water, and her red hair darkened by the wetness.

Even her red curls between her legs.

He groaned and flipped onto his side, facing the back of the couch, trying to shut out the loud thoughts in his head.

It had been months since he was with a woman. The last one-night stand had left him far from satisfied when the woman asked for his phone number—and cold, hard cash in US dollars.

Disgusted that he’d slept with a woman like that, and more annoyed that his judgment had been so far off, he left with a personal vow to steer clear of the opposite sex for a while.

That was right after the attack on his SEAL team. His only excuse for the poor judgement call being that he wasn’t totally in his right mind at the time. Still, it was no justification.

Eventually the water switched off and the house went quiet. Livia was most likely asleep. Carver rubbed his eyes to erase the image of her, sweet, vulnerable…

And silent for once.

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