Page 18 of Property of Anchor

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”Molly asked.“Because that Anchor guy?He looked like he could bench press a car and still have enough left in him to glare someone into a coma.”

I ignored the tiny flip in my stomach at the mention of his name.

“Yeah, and he was looking at you like you were the damn sundae bar at a biker buffet,” Bernice piped up from her seat, drawing everyone’s attention.

I turned.“What?”

“You heard me,” she said, pulling a stick of gum from her pocket and unwrapped it with slow precision.“That man looked at you like he was five seconds from licking whipped cream off your—”

“Bernice!”

She smirked and popped the gum in her mouth.“Don’t get shy now, girl.I may be old, but my eyes still work.He wasn’t just being polite.”

I waved a hand like I could shoo her words away.“The only reason he was talking to me is because he’s the guy in charge.”

“Prez,” Bernice corrected.

Everyone looked at her.

I blinked.“Wait.How do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Brian said, crossing his arms.“Since when do you know club lingo?”

Bernice shrugged.“I’ve lived a few lives, sweetheart.And more than one of them involved leather, danger, and a whole lotta engine grease.”

Jake made a choking sound that was probably him trying not to laugh.“Are you saying you dated a biker?”

Bernice didn’t answer.Just smirked and blew a bubble.

Molly looked equal parts horrified and impressed.

I rubbed my temples.“Okay, can we focus, please?We’ve got two weeks, tops, to pull off a full redesign, outside and inside.I’ve got ideas, but it’s going to take all of us.”

Dad clapped his hands once.“Alright, team.You heard the boss.Let’s get moving.”

Jake and Brian wandered off toward the supply truck to start unloading ladders and brushes.Molly headed for the porch with her camera.Bernice didn’t move.She never did until she was damn good and ready.

I stepped away from the group for a moment and took in the house again.Its creaking windows, warped siding, and looming rooflines.It really was amazing, in a decrepit, horror-movie sort of way.And if I let myself admit it… yeah, I kind of loved it.

And Anchor?

Damn it.I was still thinking about him.

The way he’d stood in the doorway of the cabin with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes raking over me like he already knew what I looked like out of my clothes.He hadn’t been overly flirty.Just...confident.Quietly intense.The kind of man who didn’t need to talk a lot because the weight of him said enough.

And he was good-looking.Objectively, dangerously good-looking.With that short dark hair, the hard edge of his jawline, and the tattoos that disappeared beneath his shirt sleeves.The kind of man who could ruin your life and then offer to help clean up the mess afterward.

I wasn’t afraid of him, not exactly.If anything, I was afraid of how much I wanted him to look at me like that again.

But it didn’t matter.This was a job.A project.I was here to paint, not drool over the man running the show.

Still… Bernice wasn’t wrong.Hehadlooked at me.And unless my radar was completely off, I wasn’t the only one feeling something.

I sighed, shook it off, and went to grab my sketchpad from the truck.

Time to work.

Chapter Nine

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