Bare Naked: Naked Cowboys, Book 4

by Desiree Holt

  She almost smiled. “So I understand. Just what do you think you can do for me and what do you want in return?”

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Was this really going to happen?

  “I’m pretty handy with a bunch of stuff.” He grimaced. “Although if you ask anyone, I’m sure they’ll tell you the heaviest thing I’ve lifted in a while is a credit card, which I don’t happen to have any more, by the way.”

  “Go on.”

  “I can hammer and saw. I’m sure I can figure out how to scrape paint.” He gestured at the landscape. “Clean up the yard. Whatever you need.”

  She was silent for so long he was about ready to turn around and leave.

  “And why should I trust you? How do I know you won’t rob me blind?” She gave a funny little laugh. “Although at the moment except for my car there isn’t much to steal.”

  “I’d give you my word,” he told her, “except anyone around will tell you it isn’t worth much right now. I’ve pissed off a lot of people, who I’m sure are laughing their asses off at my fix.”

  “I don’t care about that. I asked you a question.”

  “I guess you won’t know until you give me a try. But like I said, I’m desperate. I need a roof over my head and enough money to eat. That’s it. And even though you have no reason to believe me, I won’t touch a drop of booze, I won’t steal from you and I’ll work hard at whatever you need done.”

  He could see she was considering it. Cade hadn’t prayed since he was a child, but at the moment, he was reciting silent prayers in his head. He could see the moment she made up her mind and he had to restrain himself from shouting out loud.

  “Please.” He could hardly get the unfamiliar word out of his mouth.

  “I must be out of my mind, but okay. We’ll give it a shot. I’ll pay you handyman’s wages and you’ll earn every dollar of them.” She pointed to a building off to the side. “That used to be a barn. I understand when the B&B was in full operation they kept some horses for the guests and a stable master to take care of them. There’s an apartment upstairs in the loft. It’s not much and you’ll probably have to clean it. But it’s got running water and a little two-burner plate that might still work. Take it or leave it.”

  He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I’ll take it. Thank you. I promise you won’t have cause to regret this.”

  “I better not, or there are some women and their men in this town who I have a feeling will tear every strip off your hide.” She opened the door. “Come on in. I’ll feed you coffee and a muffin and you can get started.”

  Chapter Three

  Calm down, Georgie. You’re not eighteen anymore. Get your damn hormones under control.

  But it was certainly hard whenever she caught a glimpse of Cade working outside. Despite the spring chill in the air, he certainly worked up a sweat with the hard labor he was doing. And watching him distracted her more than she liked.

  The old barn offered up some ancient equipment. He’d spent the first couple of days or so getting what he could in working order. Then he’d tackled the mess that was the yard.

  “Too many critters can hide in this shit,” he’d told her. “It will take a lot more than a few days to get the look you want, but at least I can clear it out and neaten it up. Anyway, I need to have room to hike a ladder up and start scraping the paint,” he’d added. “If I fall off, at least I won’t have a million stickers in my skin.”

  In two weeks, he had made a serious dent in the mess, and in fact was almost finished. Or at least as much as he could do for the moment. This morning, when he’d knocked on her back door, he’d told her he expected to start scraping paint in another day or two.

  He had kept his distance, she’d give him that. She assumed he’d made the barn apartment as habitable as possible. He didn’t offer details and she didn’t ask. Their contact was mostly limited to filling his thermos in the morning, an amenity she’d offered, and a tap on the door when he was finished for the day.

  Georgie had finished working in the dining room and moved on to the living room. The old wallpaper clung tighter than she’d expected, but now she had almost every wall clear. Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if she didn’t keep looking out the window. But the view was too good to pass up.

  Cade Hannigan might be a lot of things, but out of shape wasn’t one of them. Beneath the black T-shirt and faded jeans, his muscles flexed and bulged as he worked away. Every so often, he stopped to blot the sweat on his forehead with his arm. When he did, she got a sunlit look at the deep grooves and lines in his face. The square line of his jaw.

  The bulge behind his fly.

  Stop it, Georgie!

  She couldn’t help amusing herself by imagining what he looked like without any of those clothes on. Dark hair on his chest, maybe a little darker than the thick brown that framed his face. Lean hips. Long legs. And an impressive cock. Oh, yeah, she was sure it would be impressive all right. Then, in the next minute, she’d feel the dampness at her crotch and the ache in her breasts. She’d curse herself for being a horny broad who had no business daydreaming about a guy who apparently wasn’t worth anyone wiping their shoes on.

  Why did I hire him, anyway?

  Because now he’s an outsider, just like you.

  That’s no excuse.

  No, it certainly wasn’t. She hated to think what her new friends would say when they found out. She had run into at least one of them each time she’d been in town doing errands and each of them had brought up lunch again.

  “I just need to get a little further ahead before I treat myself to some time off,” she kept repeating. She wasn’t sure they believed her, but at least they’d hugged her and told her to call if she needed anything.

  Every day, however, she worried they’d decide to make an impromptu visit. She was surprised word hadn’t already gotten out to everyone already, although Cade hadn’t left the property since she’d hired him except for one trip to the grocery store. And the only words they exchanged were when he discussed his chores or had a specific question to ask.

  Last night, she’d thought about asking him to share dinner with her. Then she’d given herself a mental slap on the side of her head. Was she so deprived, so horny that she wanted to jump her new disreputable handyman? The sad answer was yes. She hadn’t had sex in so long, despite the unremitting efforts of the men at the Carlton and the rumors that had flown around about her, at this point she wasn’t even sure she’d remember how to do it.

  She was holding a hammer she’d been using to pull hooks out of the walls, staring dreamily out the window at the hot hunk in her yard, again imagining him naked and panting for her, when the hunk himself stood, walked closer and tapped on the window with the clippers in his hand. It startled Georgie so much she dropped the hammer on her foot.

  “Ow!” She hopped on the other foot, shaking the injured one. When she looked out the window to see if Cade was still looking at her, he had disappeared. Then she heard knocking on the back door.

  “Georgie?” he called. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Ow!”

  She tried hopping into the kitchen, the only room with chairs in it. By that time Cade was inside the house.

  “Here. Let me help you.”

  “I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth. Except she looked like an idiot hopping like a kangaroo.

  “Come on. Let me just get you over to the chair. What was that you dropped on your foot? That hammer you were holding?”

  He braced her with his arm around her and one hand supporting her elbow, moving her slowly until he could ease her into the chair. The heat from the corded muscles in his arm almost branded her skin, not to mention the electricity singing through her from his touch at her elbow.

  Holy crap! Her nipples were suddenly hard and tight, her breasts aching and her cunt that had been neglected for so long was throbbing with unexpected need.

  Jesus, Georgie! Get a grip on yourself.

  “Yes. Sorry.” She blew
out a breath. “Thank you. I can’t believe I did such a dumb thing. But I’ll be okay in a minute. Just let me sit.”

  “Better let me have a look at it.”

  He squatted down on his heels, lifting her injured foot to his thigh so he could ease off her sneaker. If it weren’t for the sudden pain shooting through her foot, she’d ask him if they could stay like this all day while he cupped her foot in his warm, masculine hand.

  “Uh!” she squeaked as he pulled off her shoe and the fabric rubbed over her toes.

  “Looks like you have terrific aim, Deadeye. You hit the middle toes square on.” He stood. “The first thing you need to do is get off this foot and elevate it.”

  “No. Wait!” Oh, hell. “Let me sit for a few minutes and I’ll be fine.” She heard the desperation creeping into her voice.

  “Miss Zielinski.” He looked at her in frustration. “Georgie. You need to get ice on that foot as quick as you can, or you’ll be in a real mess.” He peered into the dining room. “I hope you’ve got a couch in one of the other rooms where you can elevate this foot.”

  Couch. Right. Uh huh.

  “Um, no couch. Please. Just go back to work. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  He studied her, a world of understanding in his eyes. “I’m sure. And if you want to keep on doing that, then you need to get off this foot. So where can you lie down?”

  “My bedroom.” The words came out in a whisper. No way could she let this man into her bedroom.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. Did you say your bedroom?”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s the only place I have furniture besides the kitchen. Didn’t you notice that when you came in for morning coffee the first time?”

  He shook his head. “To tell the truth, I was so focused on behaving myself and doing a good job, I didn’t pay attention to much of anything.” Before she could protest he lifted her out of the chair into his arms. “Which way?”

  Oh, God!

  She had no choice but to hold on to him as he carried her through the house. She was taken with a sudden desire to lean into his shoulder and nestle her head against his neck. The hard wall of his chest pressed into her arm and the erotic scent of his male sweat tantalized her nostrils.

  Damn, Georgie. Now you’re getting turned on by sweat?

  “Okay.” They had reached her bedroom and he stood there, holding her, looking at the mattress on the floor. An upended box next to it held a small lamp and across from it on one wall was a scarred dresser that had been left here. A television sat on one end. “You’re not kidding that you don’t have any furniture. Wasn’t there anything else left here?”

  “Most of it was junk that I had someone haul away.”

  “What about the stuff you already had?” he persisted. “Didn’t you bring it with you?”

  “I, um, sold it.” To a thrift shop. So I could get the hell out of town.

  “And you didn’t consider replacing it when you moved in here?”

  She huffed a breath. “Listen. I appreciate your concern, but furniture isn’t at the top of my list right now. Getting this place in shape first is. I have a mattress to sleep on and a table and chairs for meals and that’s all I need. That and running water and electricity. So if you’re offended by my situation just drop me on the mattress and go about your business. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sorry.” He placed her on the mattress with unbelievable gentleness. “That was very rude of me. I have trouble not being an asshole, as you can tell. Let me get you some ice.” He looked at her foot. “Those toes look swollen and they’re starting to discolor. They may not be broken, but you still need to take care of them.”

  He disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Georgie could hear him opening cupboard doors, opening and closing the refrigerator, making other unidentifiable noises. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. What an uncomfortable situation to find herself in.

  He was back in seconds carrying a plastic baggie filled with ice and a dishtowel. He looked around, perplexed, until he spotted the open door to her bathroom. Folding a bath towel he’d found in there, he knelt again and propped her foot up on it. Then he placed the ice gently on the toes. She squealed for a moment at the cold but then blessed numbness wiped out the pain.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I should be just fine in a little while. You can get back to what you’re doing.”

  He stood there, studying her, frowning. “Afraid you won’t get your money’s worth today?”

  “Oh! No, no, no. I just meant— I—” She closed her mouth. Didn’t she just sound like a bitch.

  “Okay. Keep your eye on the time. Fifteen minutes on, fifteen minutes off. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes,” she snapped and then sighed. “Sorry. This just wasn’t on my schedule today.” She swallowed. “Thank you for helping me.”

  He held up a hand. “It’s okay. You’re right. I want to finish those hedges today. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” He snapped his fingers. “Aspirin. Or Tylenol. Which do you have?”

  “Cade,” she began.

  “Which, Georgie?”

  “Tylenol. In my bathroom.”

  Oh, God, he was going into her bathroom. Where she had all her private stuff. At least she didn’t have any of her lingerie hanging around drying, thank God.

  “Here.” He handed her two Tylenol and then squatted down so he could prop her up to drink from the glass he held. “Good girl. I’ll leave the rest of the water right here in case you want more.” He set it on the floor near her head. As he turned to walk out of the room, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t try to get up.”

  Georgie closed her eyes again.

  Damn, damn, damn. Of all the dumb things to happen. Now what do I do?

  Wouldn’t everyone just laugh their asses off if they saw me playing nursemaid to some woman and breaking my ass with all this hard work?

  Cade swallowed a bitter laugh, unrolled another heavy trash bag and began to fill it with the clippings from the hedge trimming. It hadn’t taken long to settle into the apartment—what a laugh to call his living quarters something that elaborate. Still, he had to admit it beat the Lone Star Bar all to hell. He’d driven clear to the next county to stock up on supplies, unwilling to face the knowing looks he was sure he’d get. He’d bet anything Ed hadn’t wasted any time spreading the word.

  The good thing was no one knew where he was.

  He was glad he’d kept his body in shape, even if he’d gone from hard labor as a teenager on the family ranch to working out in a home gym. The work he was doing now, unlike that he’d done in his earlier years, was mind-numbing and took every ounce of energy in his body. Unfortunately, because he didn’t have to concentrate on what he was doing, it allowed his brain to work overtime. As he sweated years of booze out of his body, he couldn’t seem to stop examining both sides of his life.

  On the one hand, in two weeks without any alcohol at all, he could already feel changes in his body. His hands didn’t shake anymore, which was good since he didn’t want to accidentally chop off one of his fingers with the hedge clippers. His muscles were hardening and he didn’t have to stop so often to draw in a full breath. He was bone tired at the end of the day, which was good because he could finally sleep through the night without waking up craving a drink. Or wondering where the hell he was. In fact, he hated to admit it, but physically he felt better than he had in years.

  On the other hand, he was forced for the first time in years to take a good hard look at himself. Not much else to do when you were yanking weeds and trimming bushes and killing snakes. The process was way too unpleasant and often made him mentally cringe. It bothered him that he didn’t much like what he saw. In fact, it made him sick.

  He had taken so much for granted. There was something to be said for having enough money and privilege to stay slightly drunk most of the time. It allowed you to walk all over people, throw your weight around and n
ot give a damn. Now, for the first time, he didn’t see the world through a fat bank account and a faint alcoholic haze.

  When everything had fallen apart, it had stung to realize all those people who still had their money and privilege wouldn’t spit on him. He’d spent a lot of time drinking up what was left of the Hannigan whiskey and cursing his father and everyone else. Even the women who’d been more than happy to share his bed when he was rolling in dough had sniffed and walked away from him.

  He’d never believed in epiphanies, but damn, he was sure having one now. And all because a sexy blonde who seemed to be hiding her own secrets, had taken a chance on him when he had to look up to see the gutter.

  Yeah, working alone like this, with nothing to do but think, looking at himself that way, was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. Actually, thinking of his new employer was much more enjoyable. He wondered if she had any idea how sexy she was? He’d never seen her with makeup on, not even that first night she’d come into the Lone Star Bar. But she appeared to be one of those women who didn’t need it. Her hair was a soft blonde waterfall, usually hiked up in a messy ponytail. Her eyes were an incredible shade of violet. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman with eyes that color before.

  And her body… Holy hell.

  Lying on the ancient cot in the barn at night, exhausted from the hard work, she was the only thing on his mind. As he tumbled into sleep, he imagined her naked beside him, those nice round breasts filling his palms. Running his hands over the curve of her ass. His mouth on nipples he imagined to be a pretty shade of rose. Or maybe on her pretty little cunt, covered with soft blonde curls. He didn’t think she was one of those women who shaved or waxed. He couldn’t say why, just that he was sure she went au natural.

  His dick got so hard thinking of her sometimes, he slid his hand inside his boxers and stroked himself, relieving the pressure. And thinking to himself, What the fuck? Because he’d never had erotic daydreams about women before, not even Amy Stark, who once upon a time he’d thought he’d end up married to. Women had been to show off on his arm and fuck as many ways as he could, but he’d never taken any of them seriously enough to dream about.