Thunderstruck. Vicki Lewis Thompson

we get there.”

      Scowling, Damon glanced out the window. He had to admit that the purple, yellow and occasional splashes of red along the road made a pretty picture this time of year. But what was the deal with Phil?

      Cade pulled into the circular drive in front of the rambling house where Damon had spent the happiest years of his life. Fourth of July bunting hung from the porch railing as it did every year. This place gave him such a lift that he couldn’t imagine not being able to come back here. The Kickstarter project just had to work.

      Rosie and Herb must have been watching for the truck, because they came out on the porch to greet him. Leaving his duffel, he jumped out, pulled off his sunglasses and jogged up the steps to give each of them a big hug. Damn, but it was good to be home. He’d been at the ranch three weeks ago, but it seemed longer.

      “Oh, and Phil’s here,” Rosie said.

      “Great!” At last he’d solve the mystery. Tucking his glasses in the vee of his shirt, he looked past Rosie to the person standing in the open doorway. That sure wasn’t Phil, so the guy must have stayed inside.

      She was tall, maybe five-nine, and slim. Her shoulder-length red hair made him think of polished cherrywood, and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks added a wholesome touch. In contrast, her full mouth would tempt a priest to forget his vows.

      But her eyes were the most striking thing about her. They were the saturated blue of a Wyoming sky on a hot summer day. A shirt in the same shade had been a good choice on her part. He had to drag his gaze from hers. She was just that mesmerizing. She might be Phil’s girl, though, so he’d have to be careful.

      Her jeans and boots were the type everybody wore around here, but on her they looked especially nice. If this was Phil’s girlfriend, Damon was impressed. The guy had excellent taste.

      But when she walked forward, hand outstretched and mischief dancing in those blue eyes, he suddenly knew he’d been had.

      “It’s good to meet you, Damon.” Her voice trembled slightly as if she might be holding back laughter. “I’m Philomena Turner.”

       2

      PHIL UNDERSTOOD RIGHT away why Rosie had said Damon had his pick of women. His expression when he’d caught sight of her had been filled with enough warm masculine appreciation to coax a response from her normally unflappable libido. All the years she’d spent hanging out with construction guys should have made her immune to such glances. Instead, her hormones were dancing a spirited two-step.

      His reaction when he’d realized who she was had been adorable to watch. His gray eyes, much more compelling in person than in the pictures Rosie had shown her, went wide with shock. His mouth dropped open, and his handsome face turned red under his tan.

      His deep voice, which she’d liked the minute she’d heard it, grew husky with embarrassment, which made him sound sexy as hell. “I had no idea.”

      “Gotcha!” Rosie looked immensely pleased with herself.

      Damon turned to her. “Mom, you tricked me! How was I supposed to know that a carpenter named Phil was a—”

      “You didn’t know her name when you jumped to conclusions.” Rosie smiled in obvious triumph. “That information came later in the conversation.”

      “But hearing it convinced me even more! Why didn’t you correct me?”

      Phil began to feel sorry for the poor man, but she was a bystander in this drama.

      Fortunately, Herb came to the rescue. “She wanted to make a point, son.” He put his arm around Damon’s shoulders, which required him to reach up a ways. “She wanted to stretch your mind a little, challenge some of your preconceived ideas.”

      “Which I did.” Rosie couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

      Damon’s gaze swung to Phil. “You had to be in on this. You never dropped the slightest hint. The whole time we were emailing, you sounded like a guy discussing a construction project.”

      Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He might be gorgeous, but he could be in need of an attitude adjustment. “And how would a woman sound when she discussed that topic?”

      He shrugged. “I’m not sure since I don’t normally discuss construction with ladies. Just...different.”

      Phil got it now. Obviously, Rosie had been justified in playing this little trick. “Maybe you’re imagining something like this.” She modulated her voice to make it softer and more tentative. “Gee, I can’t decide whether we should order the eight-inch-thick logs or the twelve-inch. What do you think? You have way more experience than I do.”

      His jaw firmed. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t expect women to defer to me.”

      “How about women carpenters?” She held his gaze.

      Defiance flashed in his eyes. “Not them, either.”

      She wasn’t sure she believed him. Before this little trick, he might have expected her to let him be in charge. Now he wouldn’t dare. “Good. We should get along just fine.”

      Herb clapped his hands together. “Glad that’s settled! Who’s ready for a drink?”

      “I’ll take a beer,” Cade said. “Lexi had a riding student this afternoon, but she should be here any minute.”

      Rosie linked her arm through Phil’s. “Let’s go toast the construction of Cabin Number Four. I chilled a bottle of that dry white you like.”

      Damon frowned. “You drink wine?”

      “Do you have a problem with that?”

      “No, but I thought you drank beer.”

      “Once in a while I do, but when someone offers a good white wine, I’ll take that any day.”

      Damon waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mind me. I’m still adjusting to the new reality.” His smile seemed a little forced. “You guys go ahead with happy hour. I’m going to mosey down to the construction site before it gets too dark to see how it looks.”

      After growing up around testosterone-driven males, she knew that statement for what it was—an excuse that would allow him to retreat, lick his wounds and nurse his grievances. But she wasn’t going to let him brood and build up a potential cache of resentment.

      “I’ll go with you.” The trap had been sprung, and he’d been set back on his heels. But they’d be working together for the next week, and the rapport they’d established through emails was probably shot to hell. She should have anticipated that.

      “Okay.” He didn’t sound eager to have her tag along.

      That was to be expected. She’d just helped deceive him, so she’d have to work to win back his trust. He probably deserved the comeuppance. She didn’t know him well enough to say for sure. Guaranteed he had some outdated ideas about women’s work and men’s work, but so did a lot of guys. She hoped that wouldn’t interfere with this project.

      “Don’t be long,” Rosie said. “Don’t want you to miss my famous pot roast.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Damon gave her a more genuine smile before turning to Phil. “Ready?”

      “Yep.”

      He didn’t say anything as they started walking out to the meadow. The earth was spongy from the previous night’s rain, and they had to detour around a couple of muddy spots. The three existing cabins followed a curve that would be a complete half circle when the fourth was built. The bathhouse stretched in a straight line behind them.

      “I hope you know that Rosie loves you to pieces,” Phil said at last, to break the ice.

      “I