overtime again. But Poppy was sending a significant look at Shay, and Mac was actively smirking.
Brett didn’t seem to notice their regard. “It’s settled then,” he said.
Angelica put her forehead in her hand. It seemed she had another job. A place to stay. Her most pressing needs satisfied.
So, yes, she’d changed her circumstances, all right...but what if she’d gone straight from hot water into the fire?
* * *
T HERE COULD BE only one person responsible for the knock at his cabin door, Brett thought. For about three seconds he resisted answering, then he cursed under his breath and crossed to it.
It was his own fault Angelica Rodriguez was his new next-door neighbor.
But it should settle him some, shouldn’t it? Since learning of her father’s perfidy, he’d been uneasy. Distracted by wondering how she was feeling, how she was faring. As much as he told himself to forget about it, forget about
her
, he’d not managed to push her from his thoughts for more than a few moments at a time.
And he’d been right to worry, hadn’t he?
Pulling open the door, he took in the sight of the woman on the doorstep. His belly tightened in lust even as relief coursed through him. She looked a hell of a lot better than she had that morning in Mac’s office. Then, she’d been pale, her big eyes shadowed. When she’d nearly gone down to the floor he’d felt his heart lurch in his chest.
It had pissed him off then.
He was still pissed off now, he decided. “What do you want?” he growled.
There was a plate in her hands, and she lifted it in his direction. “I made you cookies.”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scowled at her. “Why would you do that?”
“As a thank-you? While I was working my shift at the hardware store, someone stocked the cabin with groceries, including flour, sugar and butter. Chocolate chips.”
“Must have been Poppy,” he said. “Maybe Shay or Mac.”
One of her dark brows arched. “Are you saying you don’t want a taste?”
He nearly groaned. Of course he wanted a taste. He wanted a whole feast—of her. “Angelica...”
“Brett.” Her mouth curved. The smile looked wan. “It’s just cookies.”
The husky note in her voice had him studying her more closely in the porch light. Yeah, she looked better than she had this morning, but there was a distinct weariness in her expression. She’d been sleeping in her car after all. And it had been beyond chilly the past few nights. He bet she had a scratchy throat.
He couldn’t let her continue standing out there in the cold. “You should have a jacket on,” he said, opening the door wider. “Come by the fire and get warm.”
She stepped inside. Taking the plate of cookies from her, he pushed her toward the living area. On a braided rug that had come with the cabin sat his own saddle-colored leather couch. Angelica trailed one slender hand across the back of it and he worried he’d feel the phantom touch of it every time he sprawled on the cushions.
Near the hearth, she spread her fingers before the flames. He saw the light of them leap, golden orange and red, between her digits as if they licked her flesh. Brett wanted to run his tongue along there, too, then suck each fingertip into his mouth. Her eyes would widen and then close, her head dropping back to reveal the tender curve of her neck. He’d bite that next.
Shit.
Turning his back on her, he placed the cookies on the kitchen counter. The food prep and living areas were just one big space. A hallway teed off to the bedrooms and bathroom. The bungalow was a decent size, but with Angelica between its walls there wasn’t anywhere for the pulsing sexual attraction he felt for her to go.
“Are these yours?” she asked.
He glanced around. She was studying the two framed drawings he’d hung over the fireplace. They were part of a landscape design he’d done in school. One was a plot plan that showed an overhead view of the project, including the
Brett didn’t seem to notice their regard. “It’s settled then,” he said.
Angelica put her forehead in her hand. It seemed she had another job. A place to stay. Her most pressing needs satisfied.
So, yes, she’d changed her circumstances, all right...but what if she’d gone straight from hot water into the fire?
* * *
T HERE COULD BE only one person responsible for the knock at his cabin door, Brett thought. For about three seconds he resisted answering, then he cursed under his breath and crossed to it.
It was his own fault Angelica Rodriguez was his new next-door neighbor.
But it should settle him some, shouldn’t it? Since learning of her father’s perfidy, he’d been uneasy. Distracted by wondering how she was feeling, how she was faring. As much as he told himself to forget about it, forget about
her
, he’d not managed to push her from his thoughts for more than a few moments at a time.
And he’d been right to worry, hadn’t he?
Pulling open the door, he took in the sight of the woman on the doorstep. His belly tightened in lust even as relief coursed through him. She looked a hell of a lot better than she had that morning in Mac’s office. Then, she’d been pale, her big eyes shadowed. When she’d nearly gone down to the floor he’d felt his heart lurch in his chest.
It had pissed him off then.
He was still pissed off now, he decided. “What do you want?” he growled.
There was a plate in her hands, and she lifted it in his direction. “I made you cookies.”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scowled at her. “Why would you do that?”
“As a thank-you? While I was working my shift at the hardware store, someone stocked the cabin with groceries, including flour, sugar and butter. Chocolate chips.”
“Must have been Poppy,” he said. “Maybe Shay or Mac.”
One of her dark brows arched. “Are you saying you don’t want a taste?”
He nearly groaned. Of course he wanted a taste. He wanted a whole feast—of her. “Angelica...”
“Brett.” Her mouth curved. The smile looked wan. “It’s just cookies.”
The husky note in her voice had him studying her more closely in the porch light. Yeah, she looked better than she had this morning, but there was a distinct weariness in her expression. She’d been sleeping in her car after all. And it had been beyond chilly the past few nights. He bet she had a scratchy throat.
He couldn’t let her continue standing out there in the cold. “You should have a jacket on,” he said, opening the door wider. “Come by the fire and get warm.”
She stepped inside. Taking the plate of cookies from her, he pushed her toward the living area. On a braided rug that had come with the cabin sat his own saddle-colored leather couch. Angelica trailed one slender hand across the back of it and he worried he’d feel the phantom touch of it every time he sprawled on the cushions.
Near the hearth, she spread her fingers before the flames. He saw the light of them leap, golden orange and red, between her digits as if they licked her flesh. Brett wanted to run his tongue along there, too, then suck each fingertip into his mouth. Her eyes would widen and then close, her head dropping back to reveal the tender curve of her neck. He’d bite that next.
Shit.
Turning his back on her, he placed the cookies on the kitchen counter. The food prep and living areas were just one big space. A hallway teed off to the bedrooms and bathroom. The bungalow was a decent size, but with Angelica between its walls there wasn’t anywhere for the pulsing sexual attraction he felt for her to go.
“Are these yours?” she asked.
He glanced around. She was studying the two framed drawings he’d hung over the fireplace. They were part of a landscape design he’d done in school. One was a plot plan that showed an overhead view of the project, including the
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