Riley tried not to squirm under her hazel-eyed study of his chest and arms or let the Irish lilt shiver too far down his spine. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her away to a dark corner of the barn and have his way with her.
Where the hell did that come from?
“There might be a time when your…strength will come in handy.”
God, forgive him, but did she just say he might come in handy? Lead on, girl.
“You’re not seriously thinking about restoring this place, are you?” She couldn’t possibly. He had to show her what she was up against. A nice, open house plan or a set of apartments would be the way to go. He just had to convince her he knew what he was talking about.
Even the garden was derelict. The old rambling roses vied for room with the weeds in the overgrown garden. In the middle of the path stood a large dumpster bin filled almost to the brim. She’d already stripped out the carpets and most of the kitchen. The lady was gung-ho, no doubt about it.
“Yes, I am. I’m thinking this would make a nice bed and breakfast.” Dreamily, she gazed around the room.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Her rose-tinted glasses need some major cleaning if she was serious.
Her gaze chilled as she turned it on him, and his stomach quaked. “Now why would I be doing that? I don’t know you well enough to be teasing you.”
“Have you run this past the building inspector?”
He didn’t recall seeing anything come over his desk. Surely, he hadn’t missed it? As he was the building inspector, the final approval for her pipe dream would have to come from him. Better see where this conversation went before he told her he was the one she had to please to get her permit.
She twirled a strand of red, curly hair around her finger and pondered his question. “No, not yet, but I’ll get there sooner or later. I have my hands full right at this moment.”
“Just so you know, if you want to operate a bed and breakfast business in this town, there are strict guidelines you need to adhere to. It might pay you to go in and have a talk with someone at the zoning office before you go spending too much money and effort on something they might turn down.”
“Thanks for the advice. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Sassie turned away and grabbed hold of a cupboard door, pulled with all her might, and ripped it from its hinges. She brushed past him, avoiding his gaze, and threw it outside where it landed on the path with a thud.
This renovation needed to be watched carefully. Things had to be done right and he didn’t need to make enemies, but a strong-willed woman like this could be trouble. Especially if she played by her own rules and ignored the bylaws. There was no way he was going to get her anywhere near his bed if they argued over this building. And Riley wanted her in his bed. The challenge was how would manage to do his job and woo this wild Irish lass at the same time.
Chapter 3
The cheek of the man! How dare he try to tell her what to do. She’d give him the damned council. This was her place, and she’d do it her way.
When she looked back, he was headed down the hallway toward the front door. His ass looked mighty fine in his faded denim jeans, and she paused long enough to take her fill of the long legs and bare, muscled arms, blond-tipped hair covering brightly colored tattoos that adorned both arms down to his knuckles. He could come in handy around the house—and possibly her bed, if she were so inclined—but not with that attitude and certainly not since she’d decided on her no-men-in-my-life policy.
A roll in the hay was okay, and she was in the right territory to find herself a sexy cowboy, but her heart could not be involved in any way whatsoever. It would be an adventure for her body only, and there was no telling when the urge would take her. Riley was certainly a candidate to scratch that itch.
After battling the rest of the kitchen into the dumpster, her back ached, and her hands had more splinters than a Viking ship deck. Surely, it was time for a well-earned break. Sassie made a mug of tea on the little gas cooker she’d set up in her bedroom—the first room to get the cleaning treatment. No point in paying for accommodation at a hotel when she had a perfectly good house of her own to stay in. True, it might not have much going for it right now, but the electricity had been connected and the water worked, so that was a good start. She could manage a shower at the end of the day to rid herself of most of the dust and grime, even if it was cold because the old water heater had long since died an ungraceful death. Da always said she was his grubby kid. He was right; she attracted dirt, but that was part and parcel of who she was. The fixer-upper who wasn’t afraid to get the job done and done right.
Camping out never hurt anyone, least of all her. Growing up tough with no luxuries made it easier for her when she started traveling to see the big, wide world. Her trusty old sleeping bag had seen better days since she’d started her journey, but it’d do until she could check out some yard sales for a bargain or hit the stores.
But why even bother moving in furniture? She’d only have
