style="font-size:15px;"> The trash in one hand, she climbed onto an empty crate, lifting the Dumpster lid and tossing the bag inside. Once again on the ground, she dusted her hands together, keeping the can between them as a buffer. “Thank you.”
Trey took a minute, cleared his throat. His mind’s eye was still looking up her short skirt and at her black panties. “Can we get to what you need now?”
He could’ve stepped around the can, shoved it to the side and out of the way. He could’ve reached for her the way she’d reached for him that day in the hauler, wrapped her close and finished what they’d left undone that night he’d pinned her against him as long as he could. But this ball was in her court, and he would play by her rules for now.
She considered him closely, dodging his question as if not sure how to answer, and asked him one of her own. “What made you decide to sell your place?”
He pushed up from the can to stand straight. “You heard about that, did you?”
“Everyone in town has heard about it. You know how Dahlia is.”
He knew well, and that was part of the reason he was cutting his ties. He was tired of everyone being in his business. “Dad’s gone now, and I spend most of my time on the road. I figured it was the best solution.”
“But then you won’t have a home.”
He ignored what looked like sadness—was it sympathy? Pity maybe?—in her eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Home is where the heart is. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Do you need help?”
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m happy to give you a hand. Packing, organizing, tossing out trash.” Her mouth twisted as she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “I’m good with trash.”
Huh. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear when he’d decided to hunt her down. “Is that why you came to see me the other day? You’re offering to help me get things ready to sell?”
Again she avoided a straight answer. “I’ve seen your family’s place, Trey. That’s a lot of work for one person.”
She was right. Making order out of the chaos left behind at his childhood home was not a one-man job—not if that man didn’t want to spend an eternity living in his past. Not that it was such a bad place to be. He just liked the here and now a whole lot more.
As an only child with two working parents, he’d spent a lot of time with a sitter until he’d been old enough to stay alone. By the time he was twelve, his mother had split, leaving him and his father in each other’s care. He’d hated her for leaving, until he’d learned of his father’s indiscretion. Then he’d decided the hate was a waste since both of his parents had done wrong.
But he didn’t believe for a moment Cardin had him out here to talk about his plans for his property. “You’re welcome to help, but I gotta know. What’s behind the offer?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, affecting a frown that raised his suspicions not already at full mast.
“What do you want from me, Cardin?” he asked, taking hold of the lip of the can and spinning it out of the way, leaving the space between them filled only with a tension that lived and breathed. “Because I can’t imagine it’s the same thing I want from you—no matter the message you delivered with the corn.”
She licked her lips as she looked away, lifted her chin as she looked back. “If you take me up on my offer, you’ll find out, won’t you?”
Trey pulled in a deep breath, blew out a sigh. Her rules, he reminded himself. Her rules. And since he wasn’t getting anywhere today…“What about your hours here? Don’t you work pretty much full time?”
“I do, but I have connections.” Her smile punched him in the gut, and he was already aching. “The boss won’t mind scheduling around me.”
In that case, he wasn’t going to say no. “You wanna start tomorrow? I figured I’d tackle the outbuildings first. See what’s worth selling. Burn the rest, and haul what won’t burn to the dump.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to Jeb about using his truck. He gets a kick out of driving my Mini.”
Trey tried to picture the wide shoulders, six feet two inches, and prominent paunch of Cardin’s grandfather behind the wheel of her red Mini Cooper convertible and had not a bit of luck. “That I’d pay to see.”
“Then I’ll get him to quote you a price.”
Funny girl. He took a step toward her. “Say eight o’clock then? Or do you need more beauty sleep than that?”
“I’m okay on the beauty sleep, don’t you think?”
Cocky girl. A second step. “Could be you’ve had too much already. Could be an early morning would be good for you. Say…seven?”
“If I didn’t have so far to drive, we could get started at six.”
Brave girl. He took a third. “You looking to spend the night?”
“I might consider it,” she said, wetting her lips—and causing his head to blow a fuse.
Fuses elsewhere were inches from overload. “I’ve been at the track since I got here. I’m not sure there’s a mattress worth sleeping on at the house, but I do have a second sleeping bag in my gear.”
“Sounds great. We can stack them and spread them out. Or even zip them together.”
“Don’t toy with me, sweetheart.” Another step, and their thighs brushed. “I might think you’re actually of a mind to see to our unfinished business.”
“Do we have unfinished business?” she asked, backing away.
He followed. She stayed. “Cardin? Toying?”
“Now that you mention it, there is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”
“So ask me.” He was willing to give her any answer she wanted as long as it meant he could touch more of her, and do so with something other than his denim-covered thighs.
“It’s about Tater’s kegger.”
“What about it?” As if he didn’t know.
“When I saw you…” She let the sentence trail and backed into the rear wall of the ice house.
“With Kim?”
She nodded. “What were you thinking?”
Hands at his hips, he snorted. “There wasn’t much thinking going on there.”
“I know that, but I’ve always wondered if your mind wasn’t on me…instead of Kim.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Admit the truth? Tell her that he had trouble remembering that Kim had been there at all? That his mind saw only the look of fascination that had been on her face?
