Page 7 of Anything but Mine

Logan laughed. “You know me, can’t stay still long.” His gaze tripped over Isabella’s lightly tanned shoulders, down to her twisting fingers, then back up to her dark hair. It was that freshly tumbled out of bed kind of hair that made his fingers itch. A red dress clung to all sorts of places he shouldn’t be looking at.

Finally, he managed to focus on Sharon with an easy smile. “I came down to get some of Mrs. Stack’s lemonade. I forgot just how bad the humidity is in August.”

“If you stayed more than a few weeks in the year you’d know that.”

“You might just see my ugly mug a bit longer this year.” Logan forced himself to keep his eyes on the mayor. He’d been on the west coast so much lately that this wet heat was soaking into his damn brain. It was the only excuse he could come up with for his reaction to the woman with the topaz eyes who was trying to look at anything but him.

But every time she did, he felt it like the humidity in the air. There, but not there. A caress of wet heat.

Sharon’s hand fluttered across his forearm. “That’s wonderful. You work too hard.”

“Normally I’d say time off is for wimps, but I’m exhausted.”

He’d prowled his house all damn night. Sleep was as elusive here as it was on the road. He was up to fifty laps a day in the pool just to keep himself sane. He traded whisky out for wine last night to give his liver a break.

“Time off is key,” Sharon said.

“You certainly don’t follow your own advice. I hit Stack’s and all I heard was how much you guys were doing for the festival.”

“Isabella has a lot of new ideas.”

She met his gaze. “I had to bring my A-game. You make it the party to end all parties in our little town.”

Treat her like any other woman. Easy smile and charm. He could do it in his sleep for fuck’s sake. Well, back when he’d actually gotten sleep. Was it the red dress making him nuts, or just the woman?

No.

It was the eyes.

Jesus, they were haunting.

Rule number one, King—don’t shit where you eat.

Winchester Falls was his safe haven. He’d never gone for one of the locals. And fuck, they’d tried. Women from sixteen to sixty had made a play for him since the day his Mercedes had broken down on Main Street all those years ago.

But he was not changing his one steadfast rule for a woman with topaz eyes.

He needed the clean air and his falls. He needed the sameness. And most of all, he needed the quiet. Breaking rule number one was stupid, but getting involved with anyone right now was downright irresponsible.

“Logan?”

He blinked Sharon into focus. Fuck. He’d done it again. Zoned out. It was his perpetual state of being. He could barely stand himself, let alone people. He shouldn’t have come into town. Even for the best lemonade known to man.

He scratched his chin where his beard was heaviest. “I’m sorry. I’m still on L.A. time.”

Sharon nodded. “You run yourself into the ground and then come back here. It’s your way.”

Logan laughed dryly. “You’re always right, Madam Mayor.” He glanced at Isabella, donning his polite hat. “She still likes to lord it over people, right?”

Isabella gave a polite huff of a laugh, then linked her fingers behind her back which emphasized the little half-moons of sweat under her spectacular breasts. Before he could drag his gaze somewhere that wouldn’t get his face slapped, her nipples tightened. Little points that begged for attention.

Son of a bitch.

He clamped his hand on the back of his neck and up along his newly shorn hair. What he needed to do was stuff down the insta-lust. Only boys and idiots were ruled by their cocks. He dragged his attention off the woman that would be the friggin’ organizer of the festival. Because he was about to ruin her day.

?

??I was driving through Main and saw the old barn was being renovated finally. She’s going to have a great sound to her.”

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