Page 8 of Backed By You
The crackle of the fire has me taking my seat. My chair is angled so I can look out over the setting sun that’s filling the evening sky with stunning waves of natural hues.
I scratch behind Hulk’s ears—his favorite spot—and enjoy the low-burning fire as the slow cover of night falls upon us. Bravely, I steal a glance toward Beau who’s still standing on his porch. It’s a toss-up whether he originally came out here to spy on me, or if he, too, came out to watch the sunset. Because the second the sun is gone, he retreats into his cabin.
For a split second, I feel a twinge of guilt for not inviting him to sit with me. Then I remember his rude, unsolicited commentary regarding my flowers, garden, tree—my dog.
Let’s hope he doesn’t give me a hard time when I pick up the porch swing I had custom-made tomorrow.
He shouldn’t mind, right?
Three.
Beau
I’mupandmovingbefore dawn. I’ve slept better propped against fucking boulders than I did last night. I had this moronic sense that I acted like a real prick yesterday, and now I can’t seem to getherout of my head.
Callie Ryan.
For a gorgeous woman with a body that could make any grown man insane, she’s sure got a mouth to match. I put her on the defensive during our first encounter, but I’ve got questions—questions that are causing my curiosity to spike beyond belief.
Starting with why her dog, Hulk, follows German commands but is a certified PTSD service dog? Why does she need a service dog in the first place? Is he trained for another type of protection? It sure as hell seemed that way based on how he was behaving toward heragainstme.
Her comment about Hulk getting a taste of my ass showed me just how serious she was about not taking any shit from me. Problem with that is, she has to. This is my property, my cabin. What I say goes. Whether she likes it or not.
So, I walk the property line beside her cabin, measuring the next two additional cabin sites that’ll be built beside hers. I mark the trees that need removing with spray paint and tape off the sections accordingly. And since the dealership doesn’t open for another hour, I start cutting down brush.
The rip of the chainsaw echoes through the tree line, and a sick thrill spikes my pulse when a feminine shout reaches my ears. I suppress a grin and glance over my shoulder to see her standing on the front porch of the cabin. She’s wearing those damnable pajama shorts from last night where her ass was hanging out.
My hands twitch at the passing image of running my hands over the perfect honey-glow of her bare shoulders, midriff, and tan legs.
I swallow hard.
Fuckin’ hell.
She’s yelling at me, but I can’t hear it over the roar of the chainsaw. I wait a beat, mainly just to piss her off, then shutdown the machine in hand.
“—It’s 7:16 AM!” Her voice is a sexy, angry rasp with that hint of an accent I haven’t quite placed yet.
She’s got a ‘city girl’ aura around the way she speaks.
I grunt. “And?”
She throws her hands in the air. “It’s too early to be doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing. It’s Saturday.”
I raise a brow. “It’s my property. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.”
She glares at me. “I live here.”
“I’m well aware of that.” I shoot a pointed look at her Jeep she never repositioned like I told her to.
“I—I’ll file a noise complaint,” she says, and I cock a half grin.
I tip my chin to her. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “To the police.”
“Like I said, this is my property. I’m your landlord, you’re my tenant. If you’re going to file any noise complaints, it’d be to me.” I fight to contain the shit eatin’ grin itching to spread across my face at her sass.
She crosses her arms over her ample chest as she huffs her frustration. And just when I think she’s going to give me an earful, she spins on her heel, storming into the cabin with a slam of the door.
