Her Bucking Bronc Read online

  He was smiling when he knocked on the door labeled Lucas Redman, Architect AIA, LEED AP. It was a grand set of French doors with frosted glass and crystal doorknobs. If Dylan wasn’t careful he might fall in love with the damn building.

  “Come in,” called a man’s voice from within.

  Dylan stepped inside to find two men on either side of a massive desk. Papers were in neat piles around the left side and the center was covered with blueprints. This is what he loved to do. Dylan assessed the other men as he shook their hands.

  The man behind the desk, Lucas Redman presumably, had hair as black as a raven’s wing and equally dark eyes. Possibly some Native American heritage in his high cheekbones and strong jaw. He was slender but athletic, judging by his grip.

  The other man, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, had thick, light brown, wavy hair and blue eyes. In contrast, this man’s shoulders and chest were wide with muscle and his hand was as callused as Dylan’s. A working man for sure.

  “Dylan Bennett.” He gestured to the empty wooden chair. “May I?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m Lucas Redman and this is Dax Blackwood.” The architect put his hands palm down on the blueprints and looked at Dax. “We can’t start looking at these without her.”

  Dax glanced at his watch. “She should be back any minute.”

  She? Before Dylan could ask who “she” was, the door behind him burst open and banged into his shoulder. He fell forward, stopping his complete humiliation by slamming his hands onto the architect’s desk.

  “Oh shit.” A female voice broke the silence. A very familiar voice. “I guess that’s why you asked me to get four coffees.”

  Lucas offered him a hand, but Dylan waved it off and pushed himself to a standing position. His shoulder hurt along with his dignity. Hannah Blackwood stood there with a tray with four cups and a frown.

  “Good morning, Harry.” He plucked a coffee from the tray. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome, Broadway.” She set the tray down and pulled a chair from the corner. “Dax, you and me need to talk about hiring people for my restaurant rebuild.”

  Her brother took one of the coffees. “You didn’t seem interested in doing anything but making macaroni and cheese and brooding.”

  Her cheeks colored, surprising Dylan. She seemed like a hard-ass woman, not one to blush. “Shut up.” She sipped at her coffee and gestured toward the desk. “Let’s get on with it then.”

  After everyone had their coffees in hand, the four of them reviewed the blueprints. Dylan was glad to be on the opposite side of the desk from her. As they walked through it, she had salient points and logical ideas. He argued with her a few times about the placement of the prep station, but he was impressed with her ideas for a separate bakery area and counter.

  Within two hours, the coffee was long gone and they had marked up the blueprints with red ink and notes. Lucas was open to suggestions and took the Blackwoods’ bickering in stride. Seemed like this town was the kind that everybody knew everybody’s business. He’d grown up in such a place and had escaped at the age of eighteen.

  Being back in a similar town was both nostalgic and bittersweet. He had respect for people who could and chose to stay in the same place their whole lives. He just wasn’t that type of person.

  He would, however, be working with and living around them for the next four months. As he met Hannah’s gaze, he wondered if that was such a great idea.

  “Are you still going to call it Cindy’s?” His innocent question was met with utter silence.

  Lucas fiddled with a pen. Dax appeared to be very interested in his shoelace.

  Hannah shook her head. “Cindy Cooley was a survivor, a strong woman whose grandfather loved her so much he named the restaurant after her. He died trying to rescue her with our great-great-great-great grandfather. How can you even think of changing it?”

  Dylan held up his hands palms out. “Forget I asked. I was thinking you might want a fresh start for the restaurant.”

  Her perfectly plump lips twisted as she contemplated his statement. She didn’t have to wear makeup—that mouth was a natural raspberry color. Something inside him stirred to life.

  Oh hell.

  The last thing he needed was to be attracted to this tall, curvaceous and outspoken woman. She was far too aggressive, not to mention a little crazy, for his tastes. He liked more relaxed and easygoing women. Dylan knew he was intense and could be called high maintenance—he couldn’t have the same in a woman. The fireworks would level the town.

  “Actually, I was thinking the bakery area would have its own handle.” She glanced at her brother. “Devils’ Corner.”

  For some reason that make Dax laugh. “I like it.”

  Dylan must’ve looked sufficiently puzzled to warrant an explanation from Dax. “Our ancestor, whose name was Gideon Blackwood, was part of a group of Civil War soldiers who were called Devils on Horseback.”

  “Ah, Devils’ Corner. I like it.” Dylan could believe Hannah had devils in her blood.

  She tossed her empty coffee cup into the trashcan near his feet. Her aim was spot on but the leftover cold liquid splashed up on his jeans. He frowned at her and the woman at least looked sheepish.

  “Sorry. I thought it was empty.” She turned her face away, her cheeks pink.

  “I’ll get started on these interior changes, but I think we can get the building permit started for the foundation.” Lucas handed a stack of paperwork to Dylan.

  “I can do that. I’ll need a check for the permit fee. Do you have a company account?” he asked Dax, but it was Hannah who answered.

  “Yes we do, and only the two of us can write checks.” She sat up straighter. “This restaurant is mine, not his. I have nursed it, owned it, run it, loved it from the moment I could walk. If you have a question, you ask me.”

  Dax’s eyebrows shot up. “Hannah, you’re, ah, acting different.”

  “I’m acting like a restaurant owner.” She got to her feet. “We can go to the permit office now and get started.”

  To Dylan’s astonishment, she picked up the cavernous purse she’d had stashed in the corner and opened the door. She turned back and looked at him.

  “Are you coming, Broadway, or are you gonna sit here at the coffee klatch all day?” She disappeared from view and Dylan turned to look at Dax and Lucas.

  “Is she always like that?”

  Dax shook his head. “No, not for a few years. That was almost, uh, normal.” Then he smiled.

  Normal?

  Dylan got to his feet. “Shit.”

  Hannah waited outside for only a few moments before Dylan clomped down the stairs. He had a folder in his hand and a frown on his face. That didn’t detract from the sheer masculinity of the man. He was built like a brick house, which appeared to have been earned through honest work, not at a gym. A man’s man. Exactly the type of guy she didn’t like.

  Then why were tingles currently radiating out from her gut to all of her girlie parts? She didn’t want to be attracted to him. She refused to be.

  “Do you ever smile?” she groused.

  He pointed at her. “Did you ever hear the one about catching more bees with honey than vinegar?”

  That hurt. She narrowed her gaze. “Did you ever hear of being a gentleman?” Oh, that was lame. Where was her quick wit when she needed it?

  “I’m always a gentleman.” He opened the passenger door on an enormous black pickup.

  Hannah didn’t want to fight and she didn’t understand why nasty words kept falling out of her mouth whenever he was in front of her. Something about Dylan ignited her like a match striking a rock. Hell, she almost smelled the fire between them. The air just about sizzled.

  She climbed into the truck, noting the dried clumps of mud on the expensive floor mats, the GPS mounted on the dash and the road atlas on the seat. He was full of contradictions.

  “I’m not usually argumentative,” she began.

  He snorted as he
clipped his seatbelt. “I know this story. It starts with ‘once upon a time’.”

  “Shut up.” She spoke without rancor. Dax had been surprised by the way she had responded to Dylan. He wasn’t different from any other man she’d met in the last two years. She refused to believe he was.

  He couldn’t be, because she wasn’t ready for it.

  “Look, we’re going to be working together for four months. Can we call a truce?” He stuck out his hand.

  The heat in the truck made the air between them shimmer. She blew a stray hair from her cheek, but it returned, stuck to her perspiring skin.

  “Fine, but I’m gonna be involved in every decision no matter how small it is.” She shook his proffered hand, her none-too-small one being swallowed by his. They were like paws, full of calluses and long, strong fingers. He didn’t dainty-hand her, but shook her hand with enough force to know it was an actual handshake.

  “I don’t expect anything less, Harry.” He smiled and she was struck by how handsome he was, really, how much more handsome he was when he flashed those pearly whites. She looked away, unable to face her growing attraction to him.

  He turned the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. There was definitely some big horsepower in the truck. The vibration traveled up her legs and into her torso. She closed her eyes and reveled in the blast of air from the vents.

  “You, ah, okay?”

  She opened one eye and peered at him. “Just peachy keen. Can we get moving? It’s almost lunchtime and there’s a sandwich place by the permit office.”

  He saluted her, much to her annoyance, and proceeded to punch an address into the GPS. On a normal day, she would have given him directions in exacting detail. However, for whatever reason she didn’t examine, she chose to sit back and let him do his thing.

  As he drove east to the building department, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She had spent the last two years holding on to control of everything and everyone around her. Now, she simply let it all go.

  Hannah wasn’t even sure she knew why. She didn’t like the man, but he put her at ease. Again, a contradiction. She rubbed her forehead and tried to quiet the thoughts bouncing around in her skull.

  “Where do you park?”

  “There’s a lot behind the building.” She watched as he maneuvered his super-sized truck into the lot and toward a parking space without a hitch. His arms flexed as he turned the wheel, easing the vehicle into the narrow spot. The sun reflected off the golden hairs hidden within the brown hairs on his arm.

  She studied his profile and noted his eyes weren’t the black color she originally thought. They were a myriad of browns—from dark chocolate to whiskey—swirled together, and surrounded by long, dark lashes. It wasn’t quite noon, but the man already had a five o’clock shadow. He must’ve shaved the day before. Most men didn’t do that twice in one day.

  His hair was thick and soft looking, tempting her to run her fingers through it. He wasn’t a pretty boy or someone who dressed fancy to impress. Dylan struck her as the genuine article. Like it or lump it.

  She respected that about it him even if she would never confess that particular fact. He was still obnoxious and high-handed. The restaurant construction was hers and she would be there to own it every moment. Since Cindy’s had burned down, she’d been a complete mess, emotionally and mentally. Okay, physically too. Some days she didn’t shower or eat much.

  Hannah was smart enough to recognize a downward spiral toward depression. After the bottom dropped out of her world when the love of her life died, she nearly lost herself completely. It was only the love and support of her family that saved her. She wouldn’t waste that by falling victim to it again. Losing her heart was far more devastating than losing a building.

  She would survive and she would rebuild. Cindy’s would be her phoenix, rising from the ashes to triumph. And if Dylan Bennett got in her way, she’d knock him on his perfectly shaped ass.

  He put the truck into park and glanced at her. “You plan on dogging me on this whole thing, right?”

  “Yup.” She sat up straighter and picked up her purse from the seat. “Like a cocklebur on a dog’s ass.”

  “Don’t slow me down, don’t countermand me, and don’t get in my way,” he warned as he stepped out of the truck.

  She snorted to herself as she opened the door. “Good thing I don’t listen to bossy men.”

  “Good thing I don’t care what bossy women think of me.” He appeared beside her, holding the folder and looking like a walking sin.

  She stuck her nose in the air and walked past him, but not before snatching the folder. He mumbled and cursed under his breath. For the first time in a very long time, Hannah felt alive, and that was scary and exciting. She’d be fighting with this man every day.

  This was going to be an interesting four months.

  * * * * *

  Dylan pulled into the jobsite a week later, pleased to see the demolition completed. The dust and soot forced the workers to wear masks as they took down the remaining wall and removed all the ash.

  He’d gone to the hotel each night with a black circle around his face and a white nose and mouth. He was looking forward to working on such a clean slate. The anticipation of building something from nothing was a thrill that would never get old.

  As he hopped out of his truck, he spotted the tailless cat. The damn thing was ugly as all hell, with half an ear, a scar on his left shoulder and a stub of a tail. It had wandered around behind him for days. He’d ignored it at first, but then he found himself talking to it, much to his annoyance.

  “Why are you still here?” he grumbled as he sipped at his coffee.

  The cat blinked and began cleaning his paw.

  “Do you have a new pet?” Hannah’s voice, not heard for the last seven days, echoed in the crisp morning air.

  Hell and damnation. Since she hadn’t shown up at the site, he wondered if she’d changed her mind about being involved with the rebuilding of the restaurant. Apparently not.

  “Where have you been?” tumbled from his mouth. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead in frustration. He definitely had not missed her.

  “Working with Lucas on the changes to the plans. The demolition isn’t the interesting part. Besides, I wanted you to wonder where I was.” She tapped his shoulder with what he assumed was the rolled-up blueprints. “I’ve also been ordering the new equipment to make sure it arrives on time for the opening.”

  Dylan took a big gulp of coffee and successfully scalded the hell out of his mouth. Hannah was going to turn him into an idiot.

  “We haven’t sunk one footing or hammered one nail.” He turned to glare at her. “We don’t have an opening date to plan for.”

  Hannah had her hair back in a ponytail, her eyes bright in the sunlight streaming from the east. She looked pretty. Damn pretty.

  And he didn’t want to notice.

  “Oh yes we do, and I like to plan. I have a to-do list a mile long. November 1st is opening day.” She handed him the rolled-up plans and walked toward the cleared site. He pressed his scalded tongue against the back of his teeth. The last thing she needed was encouragement to get started on her mile-long list.

  “I didn’t agree to November first. Anything could delay that date. We should plan the opening at least a couple weeks later.” It was a big job and he wanted to plan for contingencies.

  “I’ll make sure it happens. We will hit that date no matter how we get there.” She sounded more sure than a human being should.

  “The grading crew will be here in the next half an hour.” Dylan tried not to watch her as she walked in a wide circle around the site. “You can’t be walking about when they get started.”

  She ignored him. “This restaurant has been my heart and soul for as long as I can remember.” She opened her arms and slowly spun in a circle. “Sometimes I feel like I was erased along with the restaurant. Perhaps both of us will be reborn.”

  Her voice had thick
ened and he had a moment of horror in which he thought she might be crying. Jesus, he was there to do a job, not babysit the crazy owner. The damn cat wandered over and rubbed against her leg. She glanced down and smiled.

  “He reminds me of you.” She squatted down and petted the mangy feline. “Rough and tough on the outside, but soft and squishy inside.” The cat’s purr was loud enough Dylan heard it.

  He snorted and wondered if he’d stepped into a bad dream. Maybe he was asleep in the hotel bed and hallucinating.

  She glanced up at Dylan. “I wanted to be here on the first day of the new building. I didn’t want to stare at the ashy remains of the restaurant I loved.” She got to her feet. “I told you I wanted to be here every day.”

  “That you did.” He heard the unmistakable sound of a truck pulling a large load coming up the road. “I think the machinery is about to get here. If you’re going to be here, you need to stand fifty yards away.”

  “Fine. I’ll keep my distance.” She frowned and her lips tightened. The woman had the plumpest lower lip he’d seen. Honestly, he shouldn’t have even noticed it, but now that he did, he couldn’t stop looking at it. Probably better than looking at her spectacular tits.

  God, if only she would go find someplace else to work on her to-do list.

  Then to his astonishment, she rose up on her toes and spun in a circle like a ballerina. Her right leg came out at a right angle and then bent at the knee to form a perfect pose. On top of everything, she was a ballet dancer?

  She spun in one more circle before she leapt through the air like a goddamn gazelle and landed on her foot, then threw her arms in the air and bowed at the waist.

  “What was that?” He walked closer and the cat strolled to his side. Then it proceeded to walk beside him like it was a pet dog. Tanger was an odd town.

  “A dance of life, Mr. Bennett.” She smiled and he was struck by how lovely she was. Hannah Blackwood was gorgeous, voluptuous, and more dangerous than the grading equipment pulling in the parking lot behind him. “I wanted the building to be reborn.”