into an inevitable tomorrow.
Connor found himself at the edge of the woods again, staring through his binoculars at the Spencer estate.
He was so absorbed in his boredom that he failed to hear the footsteps.
“Wow,” said Lacey’s voice. “This is progress. I see you’re working up a sweat to repair my cabin.”
Conn whipped the binoculars away from his face. Too late; she’d obviously seen them. “Taking another nature walk?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah, I am. I get cooped up in the house, preoccupied with the business. I think you felt stifled, too, yesterday, when you disappeared without even a goodbye.”
He chuffed, more because of disappointment in how he’d handled himself. Sure, he’d gotten muffled by the hearth-warmed intimacy, had felt the need to get out before he was trapped by firelight and Lacey’s presence. He’d also wanted to avoid whoever had been knocking at the kitchen door.
Lacey held her hands out to her sides, whirling around with a light laugh. “Besides,” she added when she’d finished, “the sun’s out, and it’s a beautiful day for spying. Isn’t it?”
He wanted to deny it, but that would be ridiculous.
She pointed to the binoculars. “What’s going on?”
Damn. If he told her about his preoccupation with the Spencers, he’d lose the advantage over them. She had the potential to reveal his presence, to show his hand before he was ready to take further action.
If he’d ever be ready.
He brushed off the thought. “I’m bird-watching,” he said, trying to sound convincing.
Lacey ran her gaze over the silent trees, making a show of hunting for the supposed birds. He should’ve been riled with her and her nosiness, should’ve been ready to order her to leave him alone, once and for all.
But Conn didn’t have the heart. He didn’t mind taking a minute to just drink her in, with her lively red scarf wrapped around her throat, with a matching headband holding back her flipped-up brown hair and covering her ears from the cold. Her skin was so wind-kissed that he wanted to cup her face in his hands, warming the chill away.
“Bird-watching,” she repeated. “Exciting stuff. I, personally, would rather keep an eye on those Spencers.”
Conn’s spine went ramrod straight.
She continued. “Ages ago, when we didn’t know any better, Ashlyn Spencer and I used to play in these woods together. Heck, she always wanted to distance herself from her family anyway, so we never minded how her father used to yell at her for lowering herself, keeping company with the townspeople. I, myself, never had any problems with the Spencers. Not until Johann took over the family’s holdings recently.”
Conn was hungry for more information. His blood boiled beneath the surface of his skin, yet he tried to act like he couldn’t care less. “Sounds interesting. But I’m out here to enjoy mother nature.”
“Undoubtedly.” Lacey came to stand next to him, turning toward the Spencer estate herself. “Remember that glass castle I told you about?”
“How could I forget?”
She smiled. “I know—it’s wild. And more of a problem than I ever thought it would be. The Spencers used to own the land I bought for the castle, and now they’re trying to strong-arm me into selling it back to them.”
Conn’s interest was definitely piqued. “Great ventures take great risks. Don’t they?”
Lacey peered up at him in apparent wonder. “Exactly. I tell myself the same thing every morning. Then I tell myself the Spencers aren’t going to get that land back.” Strength supported her words. “Not if I can manage it.”
Ironic. Conn had been doing research in libraries, spying on the Spencers, when all along he should’ve been pumping information out of this woman.
He needed her more than he could’ve predicted. “I thought maybe I could come by your place, get some of those tools tonight, start work on the cabin in the morning.”
Lacey nodded. “I might conjure up a pretty good dinner if you happen to be around at seven o’clock.”
“If I happen to be around,” said Conn, “I’ll be sure to knock on the kitchen door.”
“Then maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“Maybe.”
She walked toward her home, and Conn watched the sway of her slender hips under her tight ski pants.
He wondered if she would rescind the invitation if she knew who she’d just asked to dinner.
Okay. Maybe she’d gone a little too far with the lit candles and Spanish guitar music.
As Connor sat at the other end of the pine table in her ambient-glow dining room, he appeared as comfortable as a nail at a hammer convention. He caught her staring, then nodded in response.
“The food’s great.”
She smiled at the compliment; her culinary efforts made her proud. But instead of talking around the subject once again, maybe some straightforward conversation wouldn’t do any harm. “When I cook, I go all out.”
Overcompensation—the story of her post-Hazy-Lawn life.
She added, “The candles and music only add to the menu.”
Sure. Was it the Chicken and Sausage Paella with the Patatine E Carote in Salsa Verde that had inspired her? Or had she been thinking more about Connor’s blue eyes and let-me-undo-that-ponytail hair?
Potatoes and carrots indeed. It was the eyes and hair that had caused the overkill.
This afternoon, when she’d caught him spying on the Spencers—or, er, bird-watching—Connor had taken one step up on her mystery-man scale of attraction. She couldn’t help it. The man hid secrets, and Lacey had always been a pushover for guys who reflected her own position in life.
Her doctors would’ve told her that she was sabotaging relationships before they started, that her self-confidence chose men who were impossible to win over in the first place so it wouldn’t be her fault when they rejected her. She was protecting herself from hurt. Well, duh.
But old habits were hard to break.
The only thing she could think to do was enjoy Connor’s company while she could, then forget about it. After all, if they ever got to the point where they talked about her past, he’d be out of her life lickety-split anyway.
Connor had already finished his meal and was casting an appreciative gaze around the room. “I envy you. This is the kind of place I’ve always dreamed of. Hell, I’d be happy if I could just build a house like this.”
“That’s right,” she said. “The handyman from Raintree. Of course you’d be fascinated by it.”
“Aren’t
