Page 21 of Her Rugged Guardian

“You had no right, no authorization to do that. I can make my own decisions about my house. My bed and breakfast. The place belongs to me.”

“You trying to make me believe you purchased the place?” Yeah, I couldn’t help teasing her. She was cute when her brow was furrowed, her lips twisting in frustration. I could be such a bad man.

“I did purchase this place. Now, answer my question. Why. Did. You. Do. It?”

“It needed to be done. Call it a housewarming gift. Along with finishing the ceiling fan.”

“I don’t need your gifts.”

“Nope. You need another hard spanking,” I told her, grinning after I made the statement.

“What did you say?”

The way she stuck out one leg, swiveling her hips, pulled at my aching balls all over again.

She huffed and puffed, and I thought for certain she was going to hyperventilate. “We need to talk.”

“Sure we do,” I chortled, sighing when she cocked her head. “Fine. I’ll come knock on your door when I’m done for the day.”

“Groovy. But this is the last day you’re going to work on my house.” Her adamant tone was pronounced by the girl pressing her index finger against her chest vehemently.

But who the hell said groovy any longer? Margaret. That was who. Okay, so maybe she was the daughter after all.

Her piss-poor attitude just made me want to push her buttons even more.

“Whether you like it or not, you need help with the place.”

Cassandra laughed in a haughty way. “I do not. I’m pretty damn good with fixing things.”

I cocked my head, allowing my gaze to fall to her feet. “Then you might want to change.”

“I’ll have you know?—”

Moose bounded outside, immediately drowning out whatever she was spouting off. The grin widened on my face and I immediately started popping more nails into the shingles I was working on. Just to push her buttons a little bit more.

She finally gave up less than a minute later, but I heard her flow of curse words as she moved into the house, slamming the door.

And I couldn’t help my body’s reactions, my cock pushing hard against my jeans.

A few seconds later, I headed down the ladder, climbing down to the ground. I needed another pack of shingles, which would take care of the one square. Somehow, I’d need to convince her that a solid half of the roof was ready to spring leak after leak.

I grabbed the bottom of my tee shirt, using it to wipe sweat from my face. As I headed toward the windows, I sensed she was staring at me. Even though she was behind a pane of glass, I noticed her expression had nothing to do with anger. She was giving me the same heated onceover I’d done to her.

As I stretched just to irritate her even more, I could almost sense her increased anger. And I could swear the scent of her arousal slipped underneath the window frame.

Grinning, I powered down some water before tossing the bottle back into the cooler, grabbing another bundle of shingles. I hoisted them over my shoulder and headed for the ladder. For some crazy reason, I couldn’t help but glance toward the window before climbing back to the roof.

The sultry woman was still watching.

A solid hour had passed, the sky darkening even more. I’d been deep in thought, including feeling guilty for not checking on my parents. They weren’t spring chickens any longer, my father’s bout with testicular cancer lingering in the back of my mind. While he’d been deemed cancer free four years before, there was always a chance of recurrence.

It was too bad they’d all but disowned me. Not that I could blame them.

Sighing, I wiped sweat from my brow, eager to finish. Tonight, I’d grab a microwave dinner and go to bed early.

Just like I did most nights. Fuck. Maybe Riley was right. My life had turned to shit. It was as if I was doing nothing more than just existing.

After glancing at the ominous sky, I popped a few more nails from the nail gun, attaching the new shingles. I’d ripped off more than I’d originally planned. Thank God I hadn’t found any rotten boards underneath, especially given it looked like thesky was going to open up at any moment. I hated the current weather pattern, the amount of rain we’d gotten more than usual.

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