Page 67 of Surly Sheriff
Beau straightened and lifted Kismet to the floor, ignoring the disgruntled look the dog gave him. Placing a knee and hand on the bed, he shifted his body over Rae’s, and stretched out behind her, easing his arms around her.
Without hesitation, she shifted her back against his front.
He tightened his hold.
“Safe,” she mumbled.
At least, that’s what it sounded like to Beau.
Her breathing eased.
The dog jumped back onto the bed, curling up in front of her.
Beau didn’t rebuke the dog, understanding the instinctive need to protect.
*
“Holy cow, Beau. It’s like a truck of dirt upended over you.”
Beau chucked the load of drywall in the dumpster and turned, his gaze wandering over the gorgeous sight hovering a safe distance away. Tight black jeans and snug brown turtleneck hugged Rae from neck to hip, showcasing her curves in a most delightful way.
He tugged the thick gloves from his hands and grabbed the bottle of water stuffed in his coverall pocket, chugging back a fair amount, clearing his mouth and throat of the dust getting past the paper mask. “You cut your hair,” he rasped.
She flipped her fingers through the perky ends and peeked from under the shaggy platinum bangs, fluttering her lids. “You like?”
He grinned. “Sassy.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Bold and sexy.” Her eyes travelled from the rubble piled high in the dumpster delivered earlier that morning to the house. “You’ve been busy.”
“Want to see?”
She nodded and approached him with caution. “Just keep your distance.”
“Ah, is bold and sexy Rae scared of a bit of dust?” he teased, but honored her request, figuring he smelled as bad as he looked.
She stuttered to a halt just inside the front door. “Wow.”
All that remained of the wall between the entry and the former library was the exposed studs and electrical wiring.
Walking into the empty room, she stopped where the desk had been and turned to face the wall. “Where …?” She waved her arm at the bare wall.
“Goodwill.”
She twisted to face him. “Thank you,” she said, moved back to him, leaned up, and kissed him.
“For you, Rae … anything.” And he meant that. If someone tried to harm her, he’d use every skill the Marines had taught him and get rid of the danger.
Her grin was as sassy as her hair, and she linked her arm through his, pressing her pristine body against his dirty one. “Show me the rest of your hard labor. Maybe I’ll reward you later.” She wrinkled her nose, waving her fingers in front of it. “After you’ve showered, of course.”
“Maybe you can share the shower with me? Help me reach the” — he waggled his brows — “hard spots?”
A light blush stained her cheeks. It looked delightful on her. A happy and contented glow.
“Hmm. Maybe. Come.” She tugged him forward. “Let’s see if the work done deserves such a humongous reward.”
He took her through the lower level. Hehadworked hard, removing the interior doors and stacking them in the living room and opening the walls down to the studs. At the last piece of wall left between the dining room and kitchen, she lifted the pry bar and handed it to him. “Show me how you swing iron, Chief Deputy,” she said in a low and husky voice.
Beau shook his head, grinning at her lame pun. “Babe.” He removed the metal bar from her hands. “Better move back. Way back,” he added, nodding to the living room opening. He donned his goggles and mask and attacked the last section. So maybe he added a bit more oomph to his swing and a tad more gusto prying the drywall loose. But he had an appreciative audience, judging by the “oohs” and “aahs” when a piece of walling tumbled to the floor. By the time the last piece fell away twenty minutes later, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. And he was as hard as the iron bar in his hands. He placed the prybardown, flung the mask and goggles to the side, and stalked across the floor.
