Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5 by Crystal Jordan Page B

fizzling? It usually did. Annoying little habits usually became more noticeable, fights over nothing tended to crop up, and they no longer ended in make-up sex.
    But none of that happened with Neil.
    The only thing that scared her was his workaholic tendencies. It reminded her far too much of her father, and anything that smacked of Robert Patton made her more than a little leery. She’d always made damn sure she never, never dated a man like Dad.
    Except…she had the horrible suspicion that outside of the disconnected oasis that was The Enclave, Neil was the same kind of man. Always too busy, always on call, never really relaxing, never really giving all his attention to a woman, even when she was right in front of him.
    The last thing Laurel needed was a man who put her last on his priority list. That path had almost led her brother to divorce, and had led to her parents’ detached, chilly partnership. She should know better than to even consider wanting more than hot sex from a guy like Neil.
    But she wanted. She couldn’t help it, and that scared her to death.
    “Ugh.” She let her head fall back and closed her eyes. She’d been staring at her unfinished painting for several minutes, lost in thought instead of her creative process.
    The problem was, she’d become more emotionally involved than she’d expected to. Neil was busy all the time, so she’d figured it would be no more than an indulgence now and then. But it wasn’t. There were meals together, there were kitchen shifts with Neil, there was helping Violet with her book, trying to make sure Neil had quiet time to get his writing done, but also getting him to unwind a little too. She felt like she was part of something important when she was with them—a valued, needed member of a family. Something she’d never felt with her own family. Well…Tate had always done his best, but her parents? Yeah, she was unessential.
    Stop it, Laurel. She blew out a breath. She needed to work. The hours were ticking down until she had a meeting with her apprentice. The man was an odd little duck, but his work had promise. She wasn’t exactly going to have the friendly relationship Neil had with Helen, though. Laurel could barely get her mentee to speak or even look up from his canvas, and thus far, she’d never seen him leave his cabin. She met with him there, period. It was weird.
    Sitting back on her stool, she surveyed her work so far. Not bad. Her style was identifiable not by her subject matter, but by her unique use of color and her refusal to paint anything exactly as it appeared in reality. Everything was just a little exaggerated, a little larger than life. Right now, she was toying with macro-painting, her riff on macrophotography. She wasn’t sure how long she’d stick with this phase, but it was fun while it lasted.
    In this piece, a single tree dominated the mountains around it, eclipsing the entire forest. She dipped her brush into green paint and added details to the leaves. Pushing everything else from her mind, she forced herself to settle and focus on the task at hand. She had years of discipline to draw on—there was always something else competing for attention, always something or someone that seemed more pressing than a single day of painting. But those days added up, and she had had to learn to set boundaries with herself and others.
    This was her priority right now. No one was maimed or dying, and the world wouldn’t end if she ignored it for a while.
    So she lost herself in the movement of her arm, the flicks of her wrist, the layers and texture she added to her canvas. All those other problems—real or imagined—would have to wait.
    She didn’t know how much later it was when her screen door creaked open. It wasn’t yet time to meet with her apprentice, because she’d set an alarm on her phone—the only real use for the thing out here in the reception-free boondocks.
    “Oh, she’s painting,” Violet whispered, and the door thunked