“I could have shot you” he grumbled.
“For being in my shed? Or because I didn’t take you up on your invitation for a date? Yikes. Have things changed that much around here?”
“Still have the snark, I see. And I didn’t ask you on a date. I asked if you’d like for me to show you around. That’s called hospitality. They don’t have that where you come from?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call this hospitality,” she huffed.
“I was defending the property.”
“If you don’t object, can we take this inside? I’m forming icicles on my icicles.”
Another too long hesitation and finally, “Okay. Come on, Susie-Q.” With a click of his tongue, the dog followed him, retracing the footsteps she’d made. When they came upon the large impression in the snow where she’d fallen, Zander chuckled. “Snow angel?”
“Funny.” She stomped past him, clenching her teeth against the icy wind and pushed open the door that squeaked loudly in protest. She stepped into the semi-warm kitchen and took off her wet sweatshirt. Thankfully, the seventeen-hundreds-something cookstove gave off a little bit of heat from the last of the kindling. Opening the door to poke the contents, she bumped her numb fingers and an ache traveled up into her wrist. “Shoot!”
“How long were you outside? You’re a pretty shade of blue.”
“Great. Thank you.” Wynn turned and came face to face with sex appeal in nice fitting Wranglers. He was standing three feet from her now, eyes blazing and hair tousled. A lock of the dark mass had fallen over his forehead making him look a lot younger. She guessed he was thirty, maybe thirty-two, but she’d never been good at gauging a person’s age…or their personality.
At least he’d pushed his gun into the waist of his jeans, but he stood in a stance that reminded her of a warrior preparing for battle. She guessed they weren’t on the best of terms and, admittedly, she hadn’t been nice to him earlier. Not that she needed to defend herself, but she didn’t trust anyone now.
His steely eyes glinted with danger as they bore into her—seducing her. She tried to focus on anything and not the thudding of her heart knocking against her ribs. She shouldn’t be thinking how good looking he was, or how nicely his clothes fit him, or how he stood tall and broad. He stared back at her pensively, not the least bit modest, and she felt the need to throw him a log of wood to gnaw—or maybe her body would work fine too. He looked powerful enough to bite through nails and spit them out like a wad of tobacco. Yeah, he wasn’t any happier to see her than she was him. Who cared? She didn’t owe him anything, although she couldn’t deny the teeny tiny flicker of awareness between her legs that she hadn’t felt organically in a long time. This here, standing in front of her was what outside folks would call a “real cowboy.” She was in cowboy country, after all.
“I don’t take too kindly to being pulled out of my warm house by someone who didn’t have better things to do than throw shit around in a shed,” he grumbled.
Fighting the smile that ached to erupt, she knew it would only stir the pot. That’s not what she wanted, at least not on the first day in town. She needed to make friends, not enemies, and Wynn had a feeling this man would be the best type to have on her side. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but as you can see, things are a bit out of place around here.” She ambled up to the dog and held out her hand as an offering for him to sniff.
“She doesn’t take up to strangers very quickly,” he warned.
“This precious girl?” Wynn bent to one knee and gave the dog a good scrub behind the ears. “She’s real scary there…a real tiger.”
Did she hear him growl?
Wynn brought her chin up, looking at him, noticing the hard set of his jaw. “I don’t recall you telling me your name.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were interested.”
The smile came whether she wanted it to or not. “I asked.”
“Zander Cade. What are you doing here?”
“Making this place my home. Lucky me, right?” She stood up and crossed her arms over her waist. She sighed as she looked at his strong jaw covered in a thin layer of black whiskers that matched his hair except for the tendrils of grey entwined in the thick mass. He had dimples when he smiled, she’d noticed at the gas station, but she wouldn’t see any sign of them tonight. “I have a feeling that wasn’t the meaning of your question, although that’s how it came out.”
One corner of his mouth dropped. “Perceptive. The mountains can be a harsh place in the winter. Sure you don’t want to leave come morning light?”
“Is this the red-carpet welcome? It isn’t very warm.”
“If you wanted warm you should have moved to Florida.”
“Okay. I read you loud and clear. You’re tired. I’m tired too, so how about we call it a night?”
“I’d like to say it has been a pleasure, but somehow I think you’d see straight through that lie.”
“Wow, we definitely got off on the wrong foot.”
“You think?” One thick brow slammed up and creases appeared on his forehead. “What I’d like to know is what in the hell were you doing in the shed, in the middle of a snow storm, pulling up wood dressed like that? I’m guessing remodeling isn’t the answer.”
“No, that’s not the answer. I needed wood to burn. I could have gone for the hutch and tables, but something tells me they’re antiques. I don’t tend to hold on to material things, but I’m guessing my grandmother did.”