by Stacy Finz
“Because I’m in here, not out there.”
“We’re a little less cautious here in the country but I’ll pass the word on to the owner. You’ll take the job, then?”
“I’ll hack out all the overgrowth. After that you’re on your own. Is there a laundromat around here? I don’t have a lot of clothes with me.” He’d only expected to stay a day or two, just long enough to check the place out, since it was only a three-hour drive from the lawyer’s office.
“There’s a washer and dryer in each of the bunkhouses, which you’re welcome to use.”
“I’m guessing the place comes with the furniture, right?” All Logan really cared about was the bed. He could do with not sleeping on the cold, hard ground for a while.
“It does. I’ll see if I can find you some bedding, though.”
“I have a sleeping bag in my truck. That’ll do me.”
“Then we’re set.” Annie stood up, and he let his eyes linger over her mile-long legs. “Let’s go back to the barn so you can sign the paperwork. Then I’ll open the gate and you can bring your truck around.”
“Sounds good.”
He suddenly realized he hadn’t thought to ask about the pay. This was a reconnaissance mission, he reminded himself. The job was just an excuse to keep him on the property. Now if he could just focus on the land of his ancestors instead of Annie Sparks’s smoking-hot body, he’d be okay.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stacy Finz is an award-winning former reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle. After twenty years-plus covering notorious serial killers, naked-tractor-driving farmers, fanatical foodies, aging rock stars, and weird Western towns, she figured she had enough material to write fiction. She is the 2013 winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award. Readers can visit her website at: www.stacyfinz.com
