Page 25 of Wilde Secrets

Logan picked up where he left off building closets in the upstairs bedrooms, and within a few minutes, Harper was standing in the doorway yelling over the sound of his power tools.

“Yeah?” He turned off the saw he was using and lifting his goggles. “What’s up?”

She’d changed into those leggings again. The ones that hugged her curves in a way that made him want to send a letter of thanks to their inventor.

Thank you for the glorious gift of Harper Holden’s ass in Lycra.

Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, which left the slope of her neck bare. Her cropped sweater had slid off one shoulder, revealing a scarlet bra strap.

The thought of Harper in red underwear flashed through his mind, and he knew it would be a long time before that image was forgotten.

Why did she have to get stranded on my road?

His life had been perfectly ordinary before she came along, and now even the smell of her shampoo had him shifting uncomfortably. There had to be something wrong with him if the scent of a woman’s shampoo had him getting hard.

Get a grip, man. She’s not interested in you.

He focused on Harper’s words, pushing his thoughts away. It was bad enough that it had taken him three goes to get the cuts right on this length of wood. His reputation for quality work and attention to detail was not helping him today.

“Can you keep it down?” She asked, her voice muffled.

He pulled off his earmuffs and ran a hand through his hair. Her arms were crossed under her breasts which pushed them up against the fabric of her sweater. Logan was trying very hard not to notice.

And failing. Badly.

Harper uncrossed her arms and shifted her hands to her hips, then dropped them by her side. She glanced from his face to his chest, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Logan looked down at himself and brushed a layer of sawdust off his front and onto the floor. He wasn't wearing anything unusual, just an old pair of jeans and a tee with the sleeves cut off. He shrugged.

“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Harper made a noise that was something between a cough and a squeak and shook her head. Her face went bright red, and it took Logan a second to realize it wasn’t that she had found something wrong with his clothes. Quite the opposite.

He grinned, and she flushed a deeper red.

Harper pointedly lifted her chin. “The noise. Can you keep it down?”

The strain she was under showed on her face in the dark circles under her eyes.

He tilted his head, studying her. “Pretty hard to build closets without power tools, Harper.” He gestured at the frame he’d already built on one side of the room. His makeshift workbench was a slab of wood suspended between two sawhorses. After he’d anchored it to the wall he could move to the next room. After that, all he had to do was add the rails, shelves, doors and a coat of paint.

He was so close to finishing. Living in a half-renovated house for the last year, he did not want to extend that any longer. This week was going to be critical to get it all finished.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think you really understand.”

This should be interesting.

He crossed his arms. “What don’t I understand?”

“Look, Logan.” Harper planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward slightly. “I have an impossible deadline to meet and you’re making a racket. I can’t think with all this—” she waved a hand toward him and his tools scattered around the room “—going on. You’ll just have to stop.”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Princess, you’re not the only one with a deadline.”

She scoffed, glancing over his shoulder. “I think my deadline is more important than?—”

She stopped mid-sentence, wincing. “Oh god. I’m being a brat, aren’t I?”

Logan barked out a laugh. “Maybe a little,” he teased, but his smile softened the words.

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