save her life. Even if it weren’t against company rules for her to “fraternize” with the men who worked for her, Willow doubted they’d be lining up to ask her out anyway.
First of all, any potential date would have to deal with her father.
Second of all, very few of the men she knew actually saw her as a woman. She was “Will”, their buddy, their pal, their boss.
Maybe that was another reason she hadn’t skipped out when Destiny had tossed her name in the Miss Firecracker ring. If guys around here heard she’d been in the running for the coveted title of “beauty queen” some man would buck up and take her out.
Wrong. She couldn’t even land a date after winning the darn swimsuit competition.
How sad: she’d hoped her title and crown would serve as a booty-call.
And oh yeah, Blake West was the ultimate booty-call.
But what did he see in her? He certainly could have his pick of the ladies with that remarkable body, sweet nature and charming smile.
Was she an amusement? Was she just another out-of-town bar booty-call?
The strange thing was, Blake seemed to like her. And he wanted her. They’d had sex three times in twelve hours. Three times. And she’d have sex with him three more times if he asked her.
Yeah, chances were slim that was gonna happen after his assumption she was embarrassed to be seen with him.
Aren’t you?
No.
Too bad she couldn’t fix things between them as easily as she fixed the wall. She crouched on the floor and used the trowel to work the mud into the right consistency, comforted by the familiar sound of steel scraping on steel.
Then she applied the Sheetrock mud to the first hole. And the second. The splat, push, scrape, splat, push, scrape returned her to the part of herself she’d always felt confident in: her job. It’d probably only take two coats and some light sanding to repair the damage.
She’d just wiped off an excess blob, when she heard Blake’s footsteps stop behind her. She felt him studying her handiwork and she fought against bristling up.
Finally, he said, “That looks great, Willow. You definitely know your way around patching.” He leaned closer. “Did you use mesh tape to shore it up?”
“Nope. Just mud. It didn’t appear to be cracked.”
“You gonna do two coats?”
“Yeah. I figure this’ll be dry by the time the bar closes and I can put another coat on before I go home tonight.”
“What would you charge for a patch job like that?”
“Probably two hundred.”
“Then I’ll subtract that amount from your damages.”
“Even if I’m the one who caused them?”
“Yep.”
Was Blake so eager to be rid of her that he’d speed up her repayments?
Can you blame him?
After setting aside her trowel and the trough, she pushed to her feet. When she looked at Blake, he wore the oddest expression. He reached out and gently touched her face. Heat flowed through her.
But he merely wiped her cheek. “Got a little bit of Sheetrock mud right here.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
They stared at each other.
“That’s not all.”
“What?”
Blake let his gaze drop to her lips. “You’ve got something on your mouth.”
Her hand came up as if to wipe it away. “What?”
“Mine.” He pulled her close. The kiss was hot and hungry. And public. They were right in front of the windows.
Blake jammed his hands in the back pockets of her jeans and ground the lower half of her body into his.
He was hard. Really hard. Perfectly hard.
The kiss went on and on, from ravenous to sweet back to greedy. When they kissed like this, the world fell away.
Naturally the cowbell above the door clanked, wrecking the moment.
“Geez you two. Get a room.”
Blake reluctantly let go of her.
Willow composed herself and faced the customer.
Figured she knew him. Don Dreyfuss, who owned the International Harvester dealership. “Mr. D. What brings you into LeRoy’s on this fine afternoon?”
“The missus had to come into town to play Bunko. I thought
First of all, any potential date would have to deal with her father.
Second of all, very few of the men she knew actually saw her as a woman. She was “Will”, their buddy, their pal, their boss.
Maybe that was another reason she hadn’t skipped out when Destiny had tossed her name in the Miss Firecracker ring. If guys around here heard she’d been in the running for the coveted title of “beauty queen” some man would buck up and take her out.
Wrong. She couldn’t even land a date after winning the darn swimsuit competition.
How sad: she’d hoped her title and crown would serve as a booty-call.
And oh yeah, Blake West was the ultimate booty-call.
But what did he see in her? He certainly could have his pick of the ladies with that remarkable body, sweet nature and charming smile.
Was she an amusement? Was she just another out-of-town bar booty-call?
The strange thing was, Blake seemed to like her. And he wanted her. They’d had sex three times in twelve hours. Three times. And she’d have sex with him three more times if he asked her.
Yeah, chances were slim that was gonna happen after his assumption she was embarrassed to be seen with him.
Aren’t you?
No.
Too bad she couldn’t fix things between them as easily as she fixed the wall. She crouched on the floor and used the trowel to work the mud into the right consistency, comforted by the familiar sound of steel scraping on steel.
Then she applied the Sheetrock mud to the first hole. And the second. The splat, push, scrape, splat, push, scrape returned her to the part of herself she’d always felt confident in: her job. It’d probably only take two coats and some light sanding to repair the damage.
She’d just wiped off an excess blob, when she heard Blake’s footsteps stop behind her. She felt him studying her handiwork and she fought against bristling up.
Finally, he said, “That looks great, Willow. You definitely know your way around patching.” He leaned closer. “Did you use mesh tape to shore it up?”
“Nope. Just mud. It didn’t appear to be cracked.”
“You gonna do two coats?”
“Yeah. I figure this’ll be dry by the time the bar closes and I can put another coat on before I go home tonight.”
“What would you charge for a patch job like that?”
“Probably two hundred.”
“Then I’ll subtract that amount from your damages.”
“Even if I’m the one who caused them?”
“Yep.”
Was Blake so eager to be rid of her that he’d speed up her repayments?
Can you blame him?
After setting aside her trowel and the trough, she pushed to her feet. When she looked at Blake, he wore the oddest expression. He reached out and gently touched her face. Heat flowed through her.
But he merely wiped her cheek. “Got a little bit of Sheetrock mud right here.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
They stared at each other.
“That’s not all.”
“What?”
Blake let his gaze drop to her lips. “You’ve got something on your mouth.”
Her hand came up as if to wipe it away. “What?”
“Mine.” He pulled her close. The kiss was hot and hungry. And public. They were right in front of the windows.
Blake jammed his hands in the back pockets of her jeans and ground the lower half of her body into his.
He was hard. Really hard. Perfectly hard.
The kiss went on and on, from ravenous to sweet back to greedy. When they kissed like this, the world fell away.
Naturally the cowbell above the door clanked, wrecking the moment.
“Geez you two. Get a room.”
Blake reluctantly let go of her.
Willow composed herself and faced the customer.
Figured she knew him. Don Dreyfuss, who owned the International Harvester dealership. “Mr. D. What brings you into LeRoy’s on this fine afternoon?”
“The missus had to come into town to play Bunko. I thought
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