Page 5 of Treat Her Right

Conan rubbed his chest, opened his mouth to say God-only-knew-what, then noticed Zack. He scowled. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself in front of your neighbors, Wynonna.”

Frozen half in, half out of the door, Zack just stared. Domestic troubles? God, he didn’t want to be involved in this.

Wynn rushed forward and took the tray from him. “Just ignore Conan,” she said, “he’s a bully.”

Conan ran both hands through his blond hair, which Zack noticed wasn’t the least bit frizzy, and growled. His eyes turned red and his face blue. “Wynonna, I swear I’m gonna—”

He reached for her and Zack, without really thinking, stepped between them. The tray in Wynn’s arms wobbled, but she maintained her grip.

“Look,” Zack said, not sure if the woman would need any help or not, “this is none of my business, but—”

Wynn rudely pushed her way around him. “You’re gonna what?” she taunted Conan. “What else can you do?”

Conan reached for her again, and Zack grabbed him.“That’s enough,”he roared.

Zack hadn’t had enough sleep, he was still disturbed by the calls he’d made the night before, and he had no tolerance for petty bickering.

And he absolutely, positively, would not put up with a man hurting a woman, not even a pesky too-big neighbor woman he barely knew and who looked like she could damn well defend herself.

Silence fell. Conan, with one brow raised, stared at Zack’s hand wrapped around his thick wrist. Zack had big hands, but still, his fingers barely touched.

Conan’s gaze shifted to Wynn, and he made a wry face. “A gallant in the making?”

Wynn set the tray down and rushed to put herself between the two men, facing Zack. Her fingers spread wide on his chest, pressing, restraining although he could have easily moved her aside and they both knew it. Wedged between the two of them, she was so close to Zack he felt her breath and the heat of her body. He twitched.

Wynn stared into his face with an expression bordering on wonder, patted him, and then said with quiet sincerity, “Thank you, but Conan would never hurt me, Zack. I promise. He just likes to needle.”

Conan, still caught in Zack’s unrelenting grasp, snorted at that. But he replied easily, “She’s right, you know. I might want to swat her every now and again, but I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Swat her?Zack peered into Wynn’s large golden eyes and imagined all kinds of kinky sexual play between the two of them.

He wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or intrigued, and his indecision on the matter was unacceptable. He frowned, feeling very put upon.

Then Conan continued lazily. “Wynn, however, has never shown any such consideration. She’s been kicking my ass since we were both in diapers.”

Wynn gave Zack an apologetic nod. “It’s true. Conan is such a big lug, he’s always let me practice up on him.”

Conan tugged on his hand, and Zack, feeling numb and rather foolish, and for some damn reason, relieved, released him.

Brother and sister?

“She’s so big,” Conan continued, “she’s always looked older than her age. When she was in ninth grade, college guys were hitting on her! She needed to know how to fight off the cretins. So I’ve been her personal punching bag for longer than I care to remember.”

Still with her hands pressed to Zack’s chest, Wynn glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Not that he feels it,” she said to her brother, “regardless of how he carries on.” Facing Zack again, she explained, “A steamroller could go over Conan and he’s so thick with muscle he wouldn’t notice.”

Zack inhaled and breathed in the scents of vanilla coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, early morning dew on green grass—and Wynn. She smelled…different. Not sweet. Not exactly spicy. It was more a fresh scent, like a cool fall breeze or the forerunner to a storm. His muscles twitched again.

Damn, but this day was not going at all as planned.

And he could only blame one very big, and somehow very appealing, woman. A woman who was not only his neighbor, but still touching him, still looking at him with a mixture of tenderness, humor, and…hunger.

He’d known tall women, hell, Mick’s wife Delilah was tall. But he’d never known such a…sturdywoman. Her open hands on his chest were nearly as large as his own. Her shoulders were broad, her bones long. Unlike Delilah, Wynn wasn’t delicate.

But she was sexy.

He needed some sleep to be able to deal with the likes of her. And he needed more time.

And most of all, he needed sex, because he knew when he started getting turned on by a loud, pushy amazon, it had been far, far too long.

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