Behind Closed Doors. Debbi Rawlins

I like my hired men working when they’re on the clock,” Nathan said, and how she could have forgotten he was there, even for a second, was ridiculous.

      Craig didn’t seem overly concerned with the gruff remark. “Wait till you hear that engine, boss. I got the tractor purring like a kitten.”

      Beth had turned to Nathan. She didn’t think he was really upset, but he was doing her a huge favor and she couldn’t afford to aggravate him. She found him watching her, his whiskey-brown eyes taking inventory of her face and throat, and she felt that annoying flutter in her chest again.

      He switched his attention to Craig, who’d asked him a question about the tractor, and this was the first chance Beth had to really look without fear of being caught staring. No ifs, ands or buts, she was going to kill Rachel. It didn’t matter that Rachel was engaged. She still had a duty to warn a person about to meet a hottie like Nathan Landers for the first time. For heaven’s sake, a simple heads-up was an unspoken rule that every woman understood.

      The man was well over six feet of lean muscle with broad shoulders and a strong jaw shadowed by a day’s worth of sexy dark stubble. His nearly black hair seemed to be cut in a traditional style, though he hadn’t removed his hat so she didn’t know for sure. And yes, she might’ve preferred it a bit longer but...

      His gaze shifted back to her, those dreamy light brown eyes catching her off guard. “Where do you live?”

      “Me?” She went blank for a moment. “Why?” she asked, noting the lazy, sensual curve to his mouth even when he wasn’t smiling.

      “Just wondering how you plan on moving that lumber.”

      “Oh. My truck.”

      He lifted the brim of his hat and frowned at her pickup. “That?”

      She nodded. “Two trips ought to do it. I’m only going to Blackfoot Falls...to the old boardinghouse.”

      “You bought the place?”

      “Yes,” she said, sighing. “I’m turning it into an inn. Nothing elaborate, only a dozen rooms. I’m trying to keep the early-1900s feel to the place.” She glanced toward the large single-level home with its beautiful stonework and arched entry. “The whole inn could probably fit in your house. It’s amazing, by the way. I love all the details. Did you build it yourself?”

      Their gazes met, the sudden distrust in his eyes taking her by surprise. He said nothing, his expression growing more aloof as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

      So much for pleasantries. Fine. She was tired and already not looking forward to making a second trip. “Tell me where the lumber is and I’ll move my truck.”

      “Inside the east barn,” Nathan said absently, his attention on his phone as though he’d already dismissed her.

      Miffed with his rudeness and trying not to react, she turned and saw several rust-colored buildings. The closest one was obviously a barn, and she guessed that the large, freshly painted structure behind it near the trees might be the stables. Everything, from the house with its wide circular drive to the dozen or so outbuildings, was in prime shape.

      She cast another longing look at the lovely home with the oversize windows and rose beds.

      It finally hit her.

      How could she have been so insensitive? That home had to have been built for his late wife. Beth doubted he kept the gardens tended for his own enjoyment. Even the small charming courtyard between the wrought iron gate and the front door was well maintained.

      “I know where the lumber is,” Craig said, startling her because she thought he’d left. “I’ll show you where to park, then go grab Troy. We’ll have you loaded in no time.”

      “No.” Beth shook her head. “Just point me in the right direction. I can handle the rest.”

      Craig snorted. “You can’t load by yourself.”

      “You’d be surprised at what I can do.” She smiled at his raised brows, leaving out that she’d bring Liberty on the second trip. “You’re nice to offer, but I’m sure you have your own work to do. Where do I go?”

      She didn’t know if Nathan was still behind her or not, but that was where Craig’s gaze went. With obvious reluctance, he motioned toward the building she’d pegged as the stable.

      “Thanks,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder. “And thank you, Mr. Landers. You’ve really saved my butt. Next time you’re in town I owe you a beer.”

      His stunned expression was priceless. Though she hadn’t meant to shock him. Or for him to actually look at said rear end. In fact, the beer offer had just slipped out. She’d only meant to impress on him that she was truly grateful.

      She hurried toward her truck, ignoring the stares of the men working on an ATV engine, then briefly exchanged a smile with a dusty cowboy riding a chestnut past her. By the time she got behind the wheel, she was a little shaky from too much sun, adrenaline, or maybe too much Nathan Landers. Bad time to remember she hadn’t replenished the water she normally kept in the pickup. At least she’d brought her work gloves.

      Throwing the truck into Reverse, she started to back up, cringing when she ground the gears. This was the first manual shift she’d ever owned, but after three months she usually did pretty well. Of course she’d have to drive like a moron now, with a dozen men watching her. Nathan was probably having a chuckle. Though no reason for her to give a crap.

      She still wished she hadn’t mentioned the house, since it had seemed to upset him—but she had a feeling he was generally a grouch. A damn good-looking one. She darted a look in the rearview mirror.

      He hadn’t moved. Except he’d put away his phone and was focused completely on her. Arms crossed, of course, feet planted wide, an amused look on his handsome face. Well, wasn’t she just tickled pink that she could provide him with a little afternoon entertainment.

      She forced herself to concentrate on the gearshift and slipped into Drive. She wondered how much he was still grieving. According to Rachel, since his wife died he’d been sticking close to home. No mention had been made of what caused her death, though Beth doubted that mattered to a person in mourning. She’d never lost anyone close to her.

      That wasn’t entirely true. She’d suffered loss. Her mother wasn’t dead, not as far as Beth knew, but for as long as Beth could remember, Paula Wilson had repeatedly disappeared into bottles of booze and the bed of any strange man who’d promised to take care of her.

      Beth’s older sister had followed a similar path, including getting pregnant at sixteen. Giving birth to beautiful baby Liberty hadn’t been enough to straighten out Candace. Most nights she’d left the little girl with Beth. But when the toddler had started calling Beth “Mama,” quick as a wink, Candace had latched on to no-good Lenny Ramsey, packed up Liberty and torn away the only person Beth had truly cared about.

      And Beth’s father? She’d never known him. Like any child she’d been curious about him at one point. But eventually she’d reasoned that if Paula had been attracted to him, and vice versa, he had to be a loser, so why bother searching? She honestly didn’t even think about him. All that mattered to her now was reestablishing a bond with Liberty. And Candace, too, though her sister didn’t seem anxious to let go of her bad habits.

      Beth spotted the three stacks of lumber just inside the barn and sighed. The order wasn’t nearly enough for what she needed for the whole renovation, but more than she cared to load by herself. No complaints, though. If the workers showed up tomorrow, this would all be worth it.

      After reversing the truck close to the lumber, she pulled on her bulky work gloves and got out. As she lowered the tailgate, she caught movement in her peripheral vision and turned to see Craig and another guy jogging toward her. Beyond them she could see Nathan Landers still rooted to the spot, facing them.

      “We’ve got it, Beth,” Craig said, lifting his hat and