Page 2 of Garrett

“There are six cabins, you can stay in one,” I hear myself say. “If you don’t mind rough conditions.”

His smile turns wicked. “I like it rough.”

Jake actually facepalms while Elena fails to suppress a delighted laugh.

Elena says something about the sculpture, but I’m too busy trying not to imagine exactly how rough he likes it. I force myself to study the artwork instead—though really I’m watching his hands as he makes final adjustments, imagining those capable fingers on my skin.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say, meaning both the sculpture and the man who created it. “The way the metal seems to flow... you designed this?”

Something shifts in his expression. “Metal’s honest. It either works or it doesn’t. No pretense.”

“Unlike people?”

Our eyes meet again, and this time there’s something deeper than attraction. Recognition, maybe. The sense that we both know something about masks and pretenses.

“Dinner?” Jake suggests with completely transparent innocence. “We could discuss the renovation plans.”

I should say no. Should go back to my temporary cabin and keep making calls. Should do anything except spend more time with a man who makes me want to throw away years of careful control.

“I should really get back to the cabins.”

“You should eat,” he says. “Can’t have my new boss falling off a mountain from hunger.”

“Your new boss?”

“Unless you’re scared to hire me?”

I lift my chin, meeting that challenge head-on. “I don’t scare easily.”

“No,” he says softly, eyes intense. “I don’t imagine you do.”

The air between us crackles with possibility. With promise. With the kind of tension that could either destroy everything or remake it into something incredible.

Two weeks ago, I was sitting in my perfect Manhattan office, staring at acquisition reports and feeling nothing. Now I’m back in Montana, hiring a walking security risk to renovate property I probably shouldn’t have bought, while my best friend lives her small-town gallery dreams with her mountain man.

Ryder would say I’m being impulsive. But for the first time since I can remember, I feel alive.

“So,” I say, pulling out my phone and pretending my hands aren’t shaking slightly. “Should I call you Contractor, or do you have an actual name?”

“Garrett.” He steps closer, right to the edge of my personal space. “Garrett Mitchell.”

“Well, Garrett Mitchell.” I tap his number into my phone as he recites it, trying to ignore how his proximity makes my skin tingle. “I hope you’re as good as you think you are.”

His answering smile is pure sin. “Guess you’ll find out.”

Elena coughs something that sounds suspiciously like “get a room,” and I realize we’ve been staring at each other for way too long.

What the hell have I just gotten myself into?

Chapter 2

Garrett

Dinner last night was a mistake. Not because of the food—every restaurant in Heart River seems better than the next. No, it was a mistake because three hours of sitting next to Rachel Winston and her luscious curves had my cock straining against my jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever reacted to a woman the way I did with her. Even if she is the little sister of an Army buddy.

Jake, another friend from the service and the reason I came to Heart River, spent the whole meal throwing knowing looks my way while Elena drew Rachel into stories about their college days. I learned more than I probably should have: how Rachel put herself through school, how she built her gallery from nothing while her family pushed her toward corporate law, how she actually knows her shit about engineering because she originally planned to design skyscrapers before art stole her heart.

Every detail made her more intriguing. More dangerous. Just like the way she’d unconsciously licked her bottom lip while arguing about contemporary sculpture, or how her dress hadslid up her thigh when she crossed her legs. I’d spent half the meal fighting the urge to reach out and touch her.

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