“I have manure lips,” Eve said in a rush.
As she hoped, at her outrageous proclamation, Dylan froze. His mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers.
“Manure?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as though after an hour of shoveling the stuff, he still didn’t understand what end of the animal it came out of.
“Bovine feces,” she explained, patiently, slowly. As she would if Daisy had asked the question. “Mrs. Cow eats the grass that grows in the meadow. Several hours later, after her meal has digested, she poops. The smell isn’t great, but—”
“I don’t need you to draw me a picture,” Dylan grumbled. Again, his eyes moved to her lips. “I just wondered how much manure there could be. Not a lot, right?”
“Are you serious?” Taking advantage of Dylan’s bemused state, Eve jumped to her feet. “After everything I said, you were still going to kiss me?”
“No.” Picking up his shovel, Dylan cleared his throat. “Of course not.”
“Yes, you were.” With a derisive snort, Eve went back to work. “You, Dylan Montgomery, are seriously weird.”
With a shake of her head, Eve turned her back on Dylan. She was careful to maintain a cool façade, but inside, she laughed—hard. The look on his face had been priceless. And, she had to admit, seriously adorable. Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or a grown man called out for wanting something so much he threw caution to the wind.
Eve froze when the implications of Dylan’s actions hit her. He. Wanted Her. Whether he felt the same flutter in his stomach as she did, or his interest was a case of temporary lust, the result was the same. They walked on dangerous ground.
Nothing monumental would happen to change the world if Eve gave into the attraction. She wasn’t the type to expect promises of endless devotion—the idea made her cringe.
However, if the DNA results ran true to what she expected, everything would change. Dylan would take Daisy with him back to Seattle and though Eve would no longer be a daily presence in the little girl’s life, she wasn’t about to disappear. She would keep tabs and hold the Montgomery family accountable.
Now and then, Eve would visit—talking on the phone, texting, Facetime, wasn’t enough. The didn’t want to make things awkward for Daisy simply because she couldn’t control an unexpected bout of lust.
Think of Dylan as Daisy’s uncle, Eve told herself, trying to conjure up unsexy images of portly men with bald heads and smoked stinky cigars. She glanced to her right and sighed when she noticed how the muscles on Dylan’s forearms rippled when he gripped the shovel.
Eve blew out a puff of air as she applied herself to her work. One thing was certain. If all uncles were as hot as Dylan Montgomery, there had to be a lot of happy aunts in the world.
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CHAPTER FOUR
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DYLAN WIPED A dab of shaving cream from his chin. Setting aside his razor, he ran a hand over his face. Smooth and stubble-free, he took the towel from his hips and hung the damp cloth over the nearby rack. Naked, he walked from the bathroom.
The Holiday Inn where Dylan currently resided was clean and convenient. Though located near the city limits, the motel was only minutes away from Eve’s apartment.
As Dylan dressed, zipping up a pair of khaki-colored linen pants and pulling a light-gray t-shirt over his head, he tentatively sniffed at his arm. He’d scrubbed at his skin to remove the smell of the cattle stalls, but the scent seemed to linger. His imagination? Hopefully. If not, he was royally screwed.
Sitting on the bed, Dylan tied the laces on his boots, lamenting with a wry smile the loss of his collector’s edition Michael Jordan Nike sneakers—signed by the man himself. With the help of the desk clerk at the motel, he was lucky to find a cleaner that could clean his cow shit crusted jeans, shirt, socks. And for good measure, his underwear.
Shiloh’s Fluff and Fold picked-up and delivered. Though the owner guaranteed his clothes would be back to normal, the shoes, he said with proper respect for the dead, were a loss.
Couldn’t blame anyone but yourself, Dylan told himself as he checked the contents of his wallet before slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket. No one forced him to follow Eve to the dairy farm. Once there, he could have kept his opinion on her job to himself. Instead, he goaded her into retaliating—all over his prized shoes.
Despite himself, Dylan found himself smiling. Something about Eve brought out the need to prod and poke until she responded. He felt like an untried boy who for the first time realized there was a big difference between boys and girls. One girl, to be exact. Rather than tell her how he felt, he insulted her. Or teased her. Or pulled her pigtails.
Was he too old to be in the throes of a crush? Seemed the answer was a resounding no, Dylan thought as he started the SUV.
From the moment he first laid eyes on Eve Stewart, his feelings became jumbled. She annoyed him. She made him laugh. She challenged every word that came out of his mouth. She was opinionated. Stubborn. Easily irritated. Cute as a button. Sexy as hell.
The husky undertones of Eve’s voice made Dylan’s blood heat while her fearless need for independence chilled him to the bone. He had no right to fear that she might work herself to exhaustion. Yet last night, he lay awake trying to think of
