Page 29 of Fragile Sanctuary

As I straightened, I saw a shiny silver sedan driving too fast toward me. The BMW emblem shone on the hood, and a familiar license plate stood out on the front grille.

Everything in me strung tight. “Oh, crap.”

9

ANSON

The flashof metallic silver in the bright afternoon sun caught my eye as I turned to watch the BMW drive way too fast toward the guest cottage. Toward Rhodes. Something about that made my gut churn.

Who was I kidding? Everything about her twisted my insides. Too beautiful. Too bright. Too kind. She even took in damn dogs.

“Prick,” Saul muttered next to me as he scribbled something on his clipboard and then offered it to me.

I signed the bottom line without bothering to read the fine print. Saul handled our dumpsters for every project. He’d never screw us. “You know the flash?” I asked.

Saul grunted. “Grew up here. Always had a bit of a cocky shit in him, but then he went down to Silicon Valley. Made some millions. Came back thinking he was God’s gift. Prick.”

I watched as the tall, lean man climbed out of the sedan. I couldn’t help but profile him in swift strokes. His brown hair was styled in a way that told me he didn’t want a thing out of place. Samewith his perfectly pressed slacks and button-down. He needed control. To force everything around him into submission.

The luxury car brand, Gucci loafers, and gold watch I had a feeling was a Rolex told me his image was everything, too. He wanted the best of the best, and nothing else would suffice.

I had a feeling Saul was right. Total prick.

As the douchebag prowled toward Rhodes, a prickle of unease skated over my skin—something about his single-minded focus on her, and the way Rhodes held herself. She was usually relaxed, muscles loose and easy. There was none of that now. Her shoulders were up, revealing the tension wound through them. Her jaw was set, telling me her teeth were clenched. She didn’t want him here.

“They know each other?” I asked, handing the clipboard back to Saul.

His brows rose a fraction in surprise. I’d never asked him a question other than what time drop-off would be. “Everyone in this town knows each other if they’ve been around long enough. Everyone except loners who hide up in their cabins and don’t talk to a soul.”

I didn’t respond to the jibe, simply kept staring at him.

Saul chuckled. “From what I hear, they dated for a bit. Rho broke it off a few weeks ago. Davis wasn’t overly pleased.”

My gaze shifted back to the two of them. The douchebag wasn’t what I thought Rhodes would go for. I would’ve pegged her as either going for some Pollyanna do-gooder, the Peace Corps type, or someone broken she thought she could fix. Not a guy who cared first and foremost about his image. But maybe I was slipping by not being in the field.

The douchebag smiled at Rhodes, all too-white teeth and a smarmy attempt at charm. She grimaced in response. He moved closer, invading her space. Rhodes tried to move back, but there was nowhere for her to go.

Hell.

I was moving before I registered the thought. I stalked toward them, my boots sending gravel flying. It wasn’t long before I could hear snippets of their conversation.

“Let me have my interior designer consult on the project. I’ll handle the cost. You want to make sure you’re making the appropriate design choices with a house of this magnitude,” douchebag said.

Rhodes scowled at him. “I don’t need an interior designer. Shep’s helping me with everything.”

Douchebag scoffed. “Shep runs a good company, I’ll give him that, but he doesn’t have the elevated tastes required?—”

“Rhodes,” I interjected. “Need your take on something.”

Davis whirled at the sound of my voice. “Who’s this?”

A little of the tension bled out of Rhodes’ shoulders as she edged toward me. “Anson works with Shep. He’s handling the fire-restoration piece of things.”

Davis’s eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be advising her to start from scratch? It’s ridiculous to try to repair a structure that’s been so badly damaged.”

A muscle in Rhodes’ cheek ticked, but she stayed quiet.

“It’s a historic home. Can’t put a price on that,” I said coolly. “Some people are just blind to the beauty beneath the damage.”

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