Page 45 of No Place for Single Cowboys

“Chance. I can build the crib.”

“I know you can. But you’re going to let me do it.” He’d meet her stubborn with some of his own.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of macho thing?”

“No. I’m secure in my masculinity. Which is why I’m putting together the crib for you.”

Her mouth twitched. “Fine, I’ll let you do it.”

“Do you want to paint the room too or something?”

“No, please, don’t do any painting,” she said. “You’ve already done too much.”

Cordy got up and stretched, revealing even more of her stomach. Chance forced himself to look away. His heart kicked hard against his ribs all the same.

“I’ll clean up,” she said, “and then I need to get to bed. Thanks for dinner. It was great.”

“You’re not cleaning up,” Chance said, harsher than he meant to. The image of her bare skin was imprinted on his eyes. “I’ll handle it.”

“But you cooked.”

“Go to bed.”

Cordy bit her lip, which turned his gut into one massive, twisting ache. If she didn’t get out of here…

Thankfully, she disappeared into the house without a word.

That left Chance alone on the darkening porch as he reminded himself of all his rules about women and exactly why he had them.

Cordy yawned as she reached for her toothbrush, feeling dead on her feet. Even with all the help she’d had, moving was still exhausting.

And yet she was keyed up, too. There was always something exciting, invigorating about a new place. She wanted to explore more, see every nook and cranny, then head outside and take a long ramble through the woods and the pastures she had seen. Too bad it was already dark.

The guest bathroom in Chance’s house was nice but a little bland. Cordy was tempted to make it feel less like a hotel bathroom, but that was probably a bad idea. She shouldn’t let herself get too settled here.

She rummaged through the toiletry bag she’d packed, looking for her toothpaste. When she got to the bottom, she realized it wasn’t there.

“Crap,” she muttered. “How did that not get put in this bag?”

A search of the cabinet drawers didn’t turn up any either. Cordy was going to have to ask Chance for some. The sounds in the kitchen had stopped some time ago, so he must be done cleaning up. But she wasn’t sure where he was now.

She’d never expected him to make her dinner. Cordy had thought this would be the usual roommate agreement—they’d be friendly but not in each other’s pocket.

Chance kept surprising the heck out of her.

The living room was dark, the hardwood floor cool under her bare feet. It amazed her that Chance had built this all himself. He’d told her it had taken three years to finish, even with his brothers’ help. He’d made it sound like building an entire house was no big deal. She couldn’t tell if he thought it wasn’t that impressive or was trying to be humble.

Iggy was sprawled on the couch, his back wedged under one cushion and his paws hanging off the edge. The dog had made himself right at home—he’d napped all over the house today. Cordy gave him a scratch behind the ears, and he snuffled in his sleep.

The door to Chance’s bedroom was shut. A sliver of light peeped out from under it.

Cordy hesitated with her hand on Iggy’s head. Maybe she ought to leave Chance alone. As long as her day had been, his had been even longer. And she didn’t want him to feel like he had to do things for her like make dinner, build the crib, or paint a bedroom.

Iggy shifted and licked her hand. Then he shoved his head under her palm, asking for more love. That was all Iggy wanted out of life: love from Cordy and comfortable sleeping spots.

She ought to be like her dog. She had Iggy and a place to stay—she ought to be happy. Except when she looked at Chance tonight… something felt empty inside. She kept wanting to reach out and touch him to make it better.

That was dangerous. Cordy’s relationships weren’t aboutneed.She enjoyed being with others, had fun with them, but ultimately, she could walk away just fine.

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