Behind Closed Doors. Debbi Rawlins

under the steps to the hayloft, between a cabinet and a workbench, watching her with a look of amusement. “You must be from the city.”

      “I’m from Montana,” she said, a tad defensive and hoping he didn’t think she’d really been nervous. To prove she wasn’t, she strolled toward him, casually glancing at the bales of hay stacked as high as her shoulders, at the assortment of tools hanging on the rough-hewn walls, and inhaling the scent of oiled leather becoming more pungent this far inside. And tried to ignore the acceleration of her pulse the closer she got to him.

      “Where?”

      “Outside of Billings.”

      He barely reacted yet still managed to communicate “case closed.” Oh, but he was so wrong. He gave Billings too much credit. She’d seen more than half the world. As far as cities went, Billings was peanuts.

      She stopped several feet away to watch him rummage through a drawer. Without looking up, he said. “You have to come closer.”

      “Why?”

      Nathan glanced up then, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

      “I have no idea.” In spite of her effort to play it cool, her laugh sounded nervous, so she gave it up. “Why do you think I was ready to bolt?”

      He held up a large can of paint thinner. “The light’s better over here.”

      “I knew it was something like that,” she muttered, and saw the corner of his mouth twitch before she sneaked another peek at her stained hands and awful nails.

      “Let’s see.”

      She slowly exhaled, then placed her hand on his outstretched palm. Of all the things she might’ve anticipated, this scenario was so far down the list that... Oh, hell, it hadn’t even made the cut. It wasn’t so much about the touching...it was his unexpected gentleness that made the contact feel irrationally intimate.

      “Do you give manicures, too?” she murmured, watching him use a clean rag to rub each stain off her hand.

      Still focused on his task, he responded with a patient smile, making her feel like a flustered twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to talk to boys yet. The way he was acting reminded her of the way she treated the guys she met at the Watering Hole. She joked around with them all the time, never taking any of them seriously when they tried to hit on her. They were all younger than her, and none of them were her type.

      Oh, damn, payback was really gonna be a bitch. Nathan was the first man she’d met in Blackfoot Falls who appealed to her. She was twenty-nine and she guessed he was in his early thirties. Good age difference in her book, but maybe he simply wasn’t interested. Maybe he didn’t care for blondes or tall women. Maybe he was the sort of man who would never get over his dead wife.

      “There you go, Bethany,” he said, meeting her eyes, his gaze lingering. “The sink is over in the corner.”

      “Thanks.” She did a prompt about-face so he wouldn’t see her giddy smile and scooted off to wash her hands.

      He’d done a thorough job of getting rid of every little mark.

      She’d wager he was just as thorough in the bedroom, and holy crap, did she ever want to find out if she was right.

       3

      NATHAN WATCHED HER stop to stretch her back. Bethany had clearly waited until she thought he couldn’t see her. Though she hadn’t complained once, and even tried to increase the loads she carried from the truck to the front porch, he knew she wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Twice he’d asked her to step aside and let him finish. Might as well reason with a mule.

      If he’d known she was going to be so stubborn, he would’ve brought Craig with him. But Nathan hadn’t been thinking about getting the job done quickly or efficiently when he’d offered to bring the lumber. The fact was, he hadn’t thought much past those long legs and smoky hazel eyes.

      “I changed my mind,” he said when she returned for more boards. “I’ll take some water.” He hefted six slats onto his shoulder and caught her eyeing him with a suspicious frown.

      “I saw a whole big bottle of water in your truck. Think I don’t know you’re trying to get rid of me?”

      “You have some interesting paranoia issues you might want to get checked out.” He lowered his load to the second stack they’d started and then reached for the two boards she’d snatched off the truck. “Your water is probably cold. Mine isn’t.”

      She narrowed her gaze, staring him down and holding firm to her bundle...until his knuckles grazed her breast and she let go. He hadn’t meant to touch her like that, but her startled reaction made him smile all the same. Luckily she didn’t see because he’d already walked past her.

      He set down the boards and shook his head at the pair of new dark green shutters. The loose white siding around them was in sorry shape. A good wind could carry off the weathered clapboards. “You do realize you’ll have to take these shutters down again.”

      “Yes, I do.” She pulled off a glove and scratched the tip of her nose. “To fix the walls and windows. And the new door will have to come off, too,” she said, stepping back to admire the repairs. “That’s okay. We won’t get to the front for a while. The place can look nice in the meantime.”

      The right side of the porch had been reinforced, but the plank floor on the left was still sagging. At least the steps had been replaced. “You working mostly on the inside?” he asked.

      “Yes, I know I should make the most of the good weather but I take whatever labor I can get when I can get it.” She removed her second glove and stuffed them both between her clamped knees while she loosened her ponytail. A breeze played with her long wavy hair, the honey-colored strands getting away from her as she tried to secure them in one hand. She put her hair back in the ponytail, more tightly this time. “I’ll admit, at first I hadn’t considered the weather turning quickly. I’ve never tackled anything like this before.”

      The sound of someone gunning a neglected engine snapped him out of his trance. “You’re a brave woman,” he said, annoyed that he’d been staring when he should’ve been hauling lumber.

      Pulling her gloves back on, she followed him to his truck. “Or stupid. Guess I’ll know in a couple of months.”

      He threw a look at the tired white structure as he grabbed another load. “That might be too optimistic.”

      “I know.” Bethany sighed. “I wouldn’t care when it got done except I promised Rachel I’d have it completed in time for her wedding. She has friends who’ll need accommodations.”

      “Rachel?” He stopped and thought for a second. “Little Rachel McAllister? She’s getting married?”

      Bethany laughed, and she didn’t hold back. “Little? Are you sure you’re thinking of the same Rachel I’m talking about?”

      Nathan smiled. “I don’t know her well. I went to school with her two older brothers until the eighth grade,” he said, and caught her puzzled frown. “County-line dispute. When the dust settled, my brothers and I went to Twin Creeks High.”

      “That must’ve been awful for you.”

      He shrugged. “We already knew every kid within a hundred miles. And I got to play football without having to compete with the McAllister brothers. I wonder if those boys ever stopped growing.”

      She laughed again. “Cole might be taller than you, but I doubt Jesse or Trace is.”

      “I’m only six-two.”

      “Only?”

      He watched her balance the pair of boards she’d grabbed, trying hard to keep his attention off