Tarp-covered, numbered piles of twelve-inch logs were stacked nearby. A forklift stood ready to move them into position. Everything else was here, too—windows, the front door, roof beams and the hunter-green metal roofing that would match the other three cabins. Power tools and rolls of ceiling insulation were stored in the second cabin because Damon would be staying in the first one.
“You’ve done a great job.” He gazed at her.
“I’m glad you approve. Not to brag, but we had a hard rain last night, and you notice there’s no evidence of water pooling anywhere on this slab.”
“I did notice that. Who did the trowel work?”
“The guys from Rocky Mountain Concrete and Excavating. And me.”
He nodded slowly, as if absorbing that. “So your name’s Philomena, huh?”
“It was my mother’s middle name.”
“Was?”
“She died when I was a toddler.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t really remember her. My dad always says he loves me twice as much since I only have him.”
“He’s in Sheridan?”
“No, Cheyenne.”
“Hmm.” Damon studied her as if trying to decipher a confusing blueprint.
“The point is, I’m qualified to handle the site preparation, but I’m not sure you would have believed that if you’d been dealing with Philomena instead of Phil.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his sun-streaked hair. “Maybe not. I don’t know a lot of lady construction folks, especially ones who are the owner of the company.”
“It’s not a very big company. I’m the only person in it.”
“Even so, I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” She looked into his eyes and fought the visceral tug she’d experienced when they’d met. Maybe her attraction to him was partly Rosie’s doing. He’d had a lot of advance billing, and Phil had thought she was taking it all with a grain of salt.
Now she wondered if Rosie’s sales pitch had worked like a charm. She couldn’t deny that Damon Harrison turned her on. Standing here in the meadow surrounded by fragrant pines and wildflowers, she could still distinguish his unique scent. The combination of soap, a woodsy aftershave and a pheromone-laden male aroma excited the hell out of her. She’d only touched him once, when they’d shaken hands, but she wanted to touch him again.
No doubt his skin would be warm and humming with excitement, just like hers. He was one virile specimen, and she was as susceptible as the next woman. Perhaps more so, because she’d been depressingly celibate for the past year.
Sometimes life worked out that way. First you had the dry spell when no eligible males showed up, and then Fate played a joke and brought you a guy who oozed sexuality but had no intention of settling down. She didn’t kid herself that she’d be the woman to change his mind. That kind of thinking led to disaster.
His chest heaved. It was a chest worth contemplating, but she made herself concentrate on his words.
“Listen, Phil.” He sounded endearingly earnest. “I realize that you being a woman shouldn’t change anything, but for me, it changes everything.”
“I don’t know why it should.” She was bluffing. She knew exactly what he meant. They weren’t just a man and a woman working on the same construction project. They were attracted to each other and they were both aware of it.
“You know why it matters.”
She swallowed. “Okay, I do.”
“I’m supposed to view you as another professional, and I’ll try my best to do that, but you’re...you’re beautiful. And I have to ask, because it’s in my DNA, is there some boyfriend or fiancé who’ll clean my clock if I make inappropriate advances?”
“Not at the moment.” She was having trouble catching her breath. “Are you going to?”
“Going to what?”
“Make inappropriate advances.”
“Do you want me to?” He took a step closer.
“I don’t know yet.” She sucked in a lungful of air. “I need to think about that, which I can’t do when you’re standing there telling me I’m beautiful.”
He smiled. “Just stating a fact, ma’am.”
Oh, dear God. She could eat him up with a spoon. “I’m going...” She pointed back toward the house. “Back.” Damn, she couldn’t even talk right. If she didn’t vamoose right this minute, she’d do something totally out of character, like grab him and plant a kiss on that smiling mouth.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No!” She backed away. “I mean, you should stay here and...and inspect the site. That’s what you came out here for, right?”
“I came out here to get my bearings.”
“Okay, but you can still inspect the site. You haven’t really looked at it.”
He didn’t let up on that devastating smile. “Too busy looking at you.”
“That’s why I need to leave. See you at the house.” She hopped down from the cement slab and speed-walked back to safety. She wanted to run, but then she’d be out of breath and chances were everyone was sitting on the porch with their drinks. Good thing the cabins weren’t in view of the porch.
Sure enough, there they sat—Rosie, Herb, Cade and Lexi all relaxing in natural-finish Adirondack chairs. Rosie was the first to throw out a comment. “Don’t tell me you had a fight already.”
“Heavens, no.” Her cheeks felt warm, but everyone was used to seeing her blush. It was what redheads did. “He just wanted to walk around the site some more, and I was getting thirsty.”
“Let me take care of that.” Herb left his chair and crossed to the metal ice chest that always made an appearance during happy hour on the porch. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She knew better than to argue about being waited on. For as long as she’d been coming out to Thunder Mountain to handle routine maintenance, Herb and Rosie had treated her more like a guest than a worker. They always offered food, drinks and conversation. Consequently, they were clients who’d turned into friends.
She sat down in one of the two empty chairs positioned beside Lexi. Obviously someone, probably Rosie the matchmaker, had set things up so that Damon would take the other chair. She was determined to be in control of herself when he arrived.
Herb handed her a chilled glass of white. Wiry and fit, he’d had a long career as an equine vet and seemed excited about teaching some basic skills to the teens they hoped to attract to the new program.
“You know, I just thought of something.” Herb gazed down at her with those kind eyes that had inspired confidence in both humans and animals for years. “You could have built that cabin without Damon, so—”
“I could have, but it’ll be faster with both of us working. And he wants to do this. I never once thought you should have hired me to do it alone. He won’t charge a dime, while I plan to take full advantage of the riding lessons Lexi’s offered me in exchange for my efforts.”
“I certainly hope so.” Lexi smiled. “You’ve been talking about learning to ride ever since I met you.”
“And I never seem to find the time or the money. This eliminates the money issue, so I’m determined to make the time right after Damon and I finish the cabin.” As she said that she reminded herself not to ignore the fact that he’d head back to California in seven short days.
Normally she wouldn’t consider getting involved with a guy who was here today and gone tomorrow. But whether it was due to Rosie’s influence or not, she’d been hit hard by his first appreciative glance. And that unrehearsed speech about her beauty hadn’t come across as a line.
A man like Damon didn’t need a line to get a woman into bed. He had the kind of sexual potency that obliterated logic and caution. If she spent too much time thinking about the way he’d smiled at her, she’d end up knocking on his cabin door tonight.
“Phil?”
With a start she realized Rosie had spoken to her. “What?”
“Do you think that you and Damon will be abl
e to work together?”
“Sure.” It was the answer she was supposed to give, but privately she wondered if they’d end up sneaking off to have sex in the woods, which would seriously impact the schedule.
“If you have any doubts, we can still call Gerald. He’s not as good a carpenter as you are, but—”
“You won’t have to do that. Damon and I will be fine.” She flinched at the idea of Gerald taking over. He was a nice enough guy, but he was sloppy. He didn’t charge the hourly rate she did, but given his lack of expertise, he shouldn’t.
Damon would hate working with Gerald. The job would end up taking longer because Damon would have to fix whatever Gerald screwed up. Phil’s work would pass muster, assuming she could keep her mind on it.
She would keep her mind on it. The project was too important to allow an inconvenient case of lust to interfere. And speaking of lust-inducing men, here he came.
Even his walk was sexy, the rat. He’d managed to locate an old straw cowboy hat, and if he’d been irresistible before, now he was deadly.
“I see you found your hat,” Cade said.
“Picked it up when I went down to the barn to pay a social call on my old pal Ringo.” He climbed up on the porch and grabbed a beer from the cooler. “That’s some cat you have, Gallagher. He remembered me.”
Phil didn’t doubt it. Who wouldn’t remember this guy?
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Cade sipped his beer. “He remembers anybody who brings him kitty treats.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have them with me. They’re still in my duffel.” Damon twisted off the cap and took a swig of his beer. “He came right over.”
“So he gave you the benefit of the doubt this time. Keep showing up without treats and see what happens.”
“He’s my buddy. He’d come to see me.” Damon glanced at the Adirondack chair next to Phil. His gray eyes sparkled. “Excuse me, ma’am. Is this seat taken?”
“Be my guest.” Oh, yes, he was charming, and she was more of a sucker for his brand of charm than she’d ever imagined.
“We never drank that toast to Cabin Number Four,” Rosie said. “We should do it now.”
“Absolutely.” Damon raised his bottle. “To Cabin Number Four and the success of Thunder Mountain Academy.”
“Hear, hear!” Herb lifted his bottle, and everyone else on the porch did the same.
After they’d all taken a drink, Damon leaned forward so he could see around Phil. “Catch me up on what’s been going on. Cade said the contributions weren’t coming in as fast as we need them to.”
“They’ll pick up,” Herb said. “It’s only July, and we have until September first to raise the money.”
Phil had only recently learned how crowdfunding worked. “It still doesn’t seem fair to me that you either meet the goal or all the money goes back to the contributors. Isn’t there any wiggle room on that?”
“Not really.” Rosie was looking much better these days. The color had returned to her face, and she’d resumed her regular trips to the beauty salon to have her silver roots tinted their original blond. “That’s the way we set it up. A flexible deadline makes us look as if we’re not sure the project will succeed. It’s better if you state the amount you need and you either get it and the project is funded, or you don’t and the money’s all returned.”
“There’s a risk factor.” Herb looked at Phil. “But that’s true of anything. You took a risk moving here from Cheyenne to open Phil’s Home Repair.”
“I guess so.” But if she’d failed, no one else would have suffered. If the Kickstarter program for Thunder Mountain Academy failed, the ranch would be sold. Herb and Rosie would lose the place they loved, and so would all the foster boys who had been sheltered here.
“It’s going to work,” Damon said. “I feel it in my bones. We have so many elements to offer kids who are considering a career with horses—equine vet experience from Dad, a riding program designed by Lexi, saddle making taught by Molly’s husband, Ben, and horse training taught by our favorite singing cowboy.”
“Don’t make fun,” Cade said.
“I’m not! Rosie said you tamed that black gelding of yours by singing to him.” Damon turned to Phil. “Did you hear about that?”
“I did.”
Cade sipped his beer. “It makes a good story, but it wasn’t quite that simple.”
“Maybe not, but I couldn’t have done it.” Damon glanced over at Phil again. “See, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. If I tried singing to a horse he’d likely buck me off and then trample me to shut me up.”
She laughed. “I doubt it’s that bad.”
“No, he’s right,” Cade said. “He’s terrible. But lucky for you, bro, Hematite is gentle enough now that you can ride him without singing.”
“You’ll let me ride him?”
“I will if you’re nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
Of course he had to say it in that low, sexy voice of his. Phil resisted the urge to fan herself. He might not be a good singer, but she had no trouble imagining that husky voice murmuring to her as they made long, slow love in her refinished sleigh bed. Oh, he’d be nice, all right. Very nice.
And for once, she wouldn’t have to worry about a man being intimidated by the evidence of her construction skills. Damon might appreciate the effort she’d put into her home. She’d have fun showing it off to someone who understood how many hours she’d spent on it.
But in order to do that, she’d have to invite him there. And she knew as sure as her name was Philomena Hermione Turner that once she had that man in her house, she would eventually have him in her bed. So before she issued her invitation, she’d better be damned sure that was what she wanted.
3
THROUGHOUT HAPPY HOUR and dinner, Damon’s mind ran laps like a hamster on a wheel. He’d never had a problem like this. Because he flipped houses and operated alone, he’d never had to worry about mixing business with pleasure.
But here was Philomena Turner with her incredible blue eyes, sexy mouth and lithe body. She was in great shape because she worked her muscles hard just like he did. Now that he was over the shock, knowing that they had essentially the same job might be the most intriguing thing about her.
He envisioned what she’d look like all flushed and sweaty after a day spent using power tools in the heat of a Wyoming summer. Then he stopped thinking about it before he embarrassed himself by getting a woody. If she’d shut him down and made it clear she wasn’t interested, that would have helped. He’d never believed in chasing women who played hard to get.
Instead she’d traded smoldering looks with him in the meadow, and during dinner he’d caught her glancing his way several times. He had no trouble interpreting what those glances meant. She was considering having sex with him. To make matters worse, he was considering having sex with her, too.
That was probably a really bad idea. He had a hunch that Rosie had intended this all along. She’d put them next to each other at dinner around the cozy kitchen table and had kept tabs on them throughout the meal. She was convinced her boys should all settle down with nice women.
She’d be overjoyed if he became seriously involved with Phil, but he’d earn a bunch of demerits if they only had a casual fling. So the best solution to this mess would be finding someone else to help him build the cabin.
Cade was available, but he’d never shown the slightest interest or aptitude for construction. By the time the second and third cabins had gone up, Damon had been working alongside the adults and loving every minute. Cade had smashed his thumb with a hammer and sliced his arm with a handsaw before he’d finally been sent off to groom the horses, instead.
Too bad the old guy who had helped construct all three cabins wasn’t available, but he’d retired long ago. There had to be somebody else in town who would work cheap, though. He’d better have a heart-to-heart with Phil, explain the problem and get her to recommend someone.
He’d t
alk to her after dinner. They all had coffee and were finishing generous servings of apple pie à la mode—Rosie had made Damon’s favorite dessert and he’d thanked her for it. She really did love him, just like Phil had said.
Rosie also might think she knew what would make him happy. He’d learned that people tended to want for others what they’d always wanted for themselves, without taking differences into account. Maybe during this trip he’d find a private moment to explain to Rosie why flipping houses suited his personality while marriage and a permanent home did not.
When the meal was over, he got up and started clearing the table the way he always had. Rosie understood that about him, at least, and had never tried to talk him out of helping. She’d taught the other boys to pitch in during kitchen duty, but Damon had done it without being told.
Clutter bothered him, but dirty dishes drove him nuts. He didn’t have to worry about that with this group, though. With everyone helping, the dishwasher was loaded and the table wiped down in minutes.
“I have a case of Baileys in the pantry if anyone wants more coffee with a little kick to it,” Rosie said.
Damon exchanged a grin with Cade. The two of them had bought her the booze when she’d been laid up in the hospital. She’d forbidden anyone to bring her flowers because that would imply she was seriously ill. So instead they’d delivered a case of Baileys to her hospital room. She’d gotten the message—she’d have to live a long time in order to drink it all.
“Thanks for the offer,” Phil said, “but I should probably head on home.”
That was his cue. “Before you leave, could I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” She walked over to him as if she expected him to blurt it out right here in the kitchen, in front of everybody.
“Let’s go outside.”
She blinked. “All right.”
He was aware of Rosie’s little smile and Cade’s lifted eyebrows. Ignoring their reaction, he ushered Phil out of the kitchen, through the living room and out the front door. Let them think what they liked. He was taking steps to end this potentially explosive situation.
Thunderstruck Page 3
