Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2)

Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2) Page 26

He longed to hold her and kiss her till she forgot about the things that didn’t matter. Kiss her till she shut the hell up about ten-million-dollar watershed bonds. Till she kissed him back, caving to the desire he’d seen glimmer in her eyes on that day by the creek.

Would she ever let it happen? He rapped his razor against the dash to clean it out, thinking probably not.

It was sad, really. If she wouldn’t look twice at him, he wished she’d at least let go with somebody.

And it sounded like she’d been with someone for a while. When that annoying History Network guy mentioned her fiancé, Eddie wasn’t sure what’d been more of a shock—that she’d been engaged or the jealousy that clenched his gut to hear it.

But she was back home in Sierra Falls and still alone. It seemed to him like she was afraid to let anyone in. She was terrified to fail. Terrified that someone might see she couldn’t do it alone.

There was more to that girl than she let on, he knew it. Even as a teenager, there’d been something in her eyes that had reminded him of a cat, cornered and hissing, not because she posed any sort of threat, but because she was overwhelmed by her own feelings of fear and uncertainty.

Why a smart, gorgeous woman like her would ever feel uncertain was beyond him. Eddie had never made it to college—with bills to pay and a business to run, he didn’t see how it’d ever happen. But Laura, she was A-list. The full package. She’d put herself through school, a real self-made woman. Hot, successful, whip smart.

So why no boyfriend? Clearly it was her own choice. If she put herself on the market, she’d be snapped up in a second.

He couldn’t figure out what was between her and that hipster film guy. Was that what Laura was attracted to? Guys with tight jeans and hair gel? Hair gel, for God’s sake. Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead slicking a ton of crap into his hair. And then there were those bracelets—the guy had a wrist full of them. He hoped his brothers would just shoot him if he ever bought himself bracelets.

Laura had made it clear that when she looked at him, all she saw was country boy. They’d known each other for years, yet she clung to her judgments of him, refusing to see who he really was. He might not have a college degree, but he read, and he worked hard, and he had his Reno kids, but did she notice any of that? No, all Laura saw was a big pickup truck. But hell, he worked construction, took his campers off-roading, drove in the snow—he didn’t know what she’d have him drive instead. Sometimes he just wanted to pin her up against the side of that truck and kiss her till she saw him for the man he really was.

He slammed the glove box shut, decided. Maybe she’d never let go of whatever it was that had her strung tight, but he could at least do what he could to prove he wasn’t a bad guy.

He needed this gig. Jessup Brothers needed this gig. As much as he hated being public enemy number one in her eyes, he couldn’t back out. He owed it to his brother.

For Eddie, with no family to support, it wasn’t so much about the money. He’d built his cabin himself and owned it outright. Hell, lately all his spare cash went to the Reno kids, for gear like kid-sized sleeping bags and hiking boots for feet that seemed to grow overnight. But Jack had a family and needed the income. What’s more, with his only son just off to boot camp, his brother needed the work, too—the preoccupation that came with such a big job.

They may have needed the gig, but still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do it right.

He snatched his cell from atop the seat. He owed his brother, but he owed something to himself, too: to listen to his gut. And right now, doing the job as it was spec’d in the plans didn’t feel right. Something was fishy. He’d run the job and get the paycheck, but he’d be responsible about it. Laura had been right—he owed it to Sierra Falls to do no less than that.

“Hunter, hey,” he said in a sure voice. There’d be no more Yes, sir, Mister Fox for him. He checked the clock on the dash, suddenly worried he’d called too early, but there was no need for concern. The Fairview exec sounded as crisp and clear as if he were already on his second pot of coffee.

“There have been some developments you need to know about,” Eddie told him. Once he assured the man that all was well with the construction, he dove in. “Sierra Falls was one of the original gold rush towns.”

He detailed the story of the letters, of Buck Larsen, but Fox soon interrupted. “It’s eight A.M. on a Monday morning,” the man said. “I appreciate your town spirit, son, but I’m busy. You need to wrap it up and tell me what the hell this has to do with me.”

“The History Network is here, filming a story focused on how historic Sierra Falls is.” He sat tall, staring blindly at the ranch house through the windshield, weighing his words carefully. He wasn’t a shark in a suit like Fox was, but he would get this right. “Our draw is history. Tourists have been coming for a glimpse into the past, to see where Buck Larsen slept, where he drank. If you fundamentally change the look of the old Timber Creek ranch, you’ll be changing its history. If you lose the essence—”

But Fox cut him off. “TV people, you say? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie replied, a bit thrown by the man’s tone. He’d have thought these corporate types would jump at the sort of publicity that television would bring. “I met them myself.”

“You met them,” Fox repeated in a flat voice, then grew silent. When he spoke again, his manner was exaggeratedly chummy. “You’re absolutely right, you know.”

“I…oh.” Eddie had been about to deploy his planned rebuttal and was thrown by Fox’s sudden agreement. “Good, then.”

“I’m thrilled you’ve brought this to my attention,” Fox said. “If they’re filming about how historic the town is, well, we can’t have their story become how we’re changing history. Besides, I sure don’t want a bunch of TV folks going out to your job site and bothering you while you work.”

“I guess that’s another good point.” Eddie thought fast. He wasn’t done yet and wasn’t about to let some slick company man get the upper hand. “So you agree we need to go back to our original plans. Refurbish the ranch, pretty it up, you can get your solarium, spa, pool, all that. But we keep it to a single story.”

A few minutes later, he clicked off his cell, amazed that Fox had agreed.

He couldn’t wait to break the news to Laura. He could just picture her, building up steam, getting worked up, and that was when he’d tell her.

Laura, all worked up.

Now there was a thing to consider. She was a passionate woman, that was for sure. All that fire, it was hard for him not to fantasize about working out their disagreements in the bedroom instead.

In fact, it was all he thought about lately.

His groin tightened as though on cue.

“What the hell…” He raked his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. He needed to focus. Get to work. Hammering something would take his mind off things, he thought. Hammer. Drill. Screw…And like that, his mind went to the dirtiest of places. He scrubbed his freshly shaved cheeks. “Get a grip.”

Suddenly, he felt hot.

There’d been an early-morning chill in the Sierra air, and he’d thrown on a sweatshirt, but he pulled it off now and dug through his duffel for a clean T-shirt.

A knock on his window startled him. The glass had fogged, so he simply opened the door, expecting to see Jack or one of his crew.

But instead, there was Laura.

Her hair was loose at her shoulders, and she wore jeans and an old concert tee that hugged in just the right places. She was always so sophisticated and put together, but casual like this was when she was at her sexiest.

He couldn’t help the genuine smile that popped onto his face. “Morning, sunshine. I was just thinking about you.”

Twenty

“You…why…” The sight of Eddie half-dressed robbed the words from her brain. She couldn’t help her eyes from dipping to his chest, then back up again. He was cut with muscle in the mark of a man who took full advantage of his body, using it to work and to play, hefting lumber and operating tools and throwing balls. “Where’s your shirt?” she blurted, then felt her cheeks redden at the gaffe.

“Warm morning. And looks like it’s getting warmer.” He smiled his trademark cocky-guy smile, but before she managed to get in a barb, he asked, “What brings you out so early, sugar?” He spoke in a husky morning voice.

Though he still sat in his truck, suddenly he felt too close, and she took a step back.

Why had she come? Why was she seeking him out this early? She should’ve known he’d be alone. Most of all, why was he half-naked?

“I have things to discuss,” she managed.

“Of course you do.” He got out of the truck. It was high off the ground, and yet as his taut body unfolded from the cab and he stood, he still loomed so close and so tall over her. It was unsettling.

“I have things, too,” he added with a smile. “But you first.”

There was that arrogant grin again—she was sure it portended gloom. He was about to stick it to her in some way, she just knew it.

“Me first?” She cinched her arms at her chest. “Don’t tell me…age before beauty?”

“Oh, darlin’, no.” He gave a playful pinch to her chin. “Pearls before swine.” He winked and let go, but the ghost of his touch left her skin hot. “So what brings you here looking like you might like to eat me for breakfast?” He raised a brow, implying so much more than her current temper.

She took another step backward. She was painfully aware of his proximity, like she’d all of a sudden become claustrophobic.

Her reaction to him annoyed her. His ease annoyed her. It sharpened her words. “I found precedent.”

“Precedent, huh? Sounds important.” He paused. “Precedent for what?”

“For stopping this construction,” she said, trying to keep her temper. “What else? There have been similar cases. In each, a federal lawsuit was filed, citing a violation of the National Historic Preservation Act.”