Wilder spins back irritably. “What are you doing?”
I blink, needing a minute to think of something witty or bratty or anything to distract the man from thinking I either have two left feet or am trying to feel him up.
I scoff. “Trying to feel you up and making it look like an accident. What does it look like I’m doing? I’mfollowingyou, jackass.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, you don’t like that? Boss–employee respect works both ways. So whenIstart seeing a shred of it, so will you,” I snap.
I hear a chuckle from above the steps, and we both turn. Aburly man who looks the exact definition of a cowboy beams down at me. “Well, you must be Rosie.”
“It’s just Rose.”
He nods curtly .?.?.respectfully. “My apologies, Rose.” He steps down.
“Dallas Thorne, good friend of your brother’s, and the better-looking Thorne brother.” He extends a hand. I take it, feeling the roughness of his palm against mine.
He’s not wrong about being good-looking. Butbetterlooking? I’m not sure.
Dallas’s hair, from what I can see under that black cowboy hat, is darker, while Wilder’s is more sun-kissed. The older brother’s got that tall, dark, and handsome look about him, a bearded rugged handsome. Anintimidatinghandsome.
Wilder is moreGQmagazine featuring cowboys, kind of handsome. Sharp jawline dusted with the hint of stubble, eyes a deep blue, steady, a little too knowing. A strong frame and lean muscles that I’ve felttwicetoday. From both directions.
The other difference? I didn’t forget how tobreathewhen I saw Dallas.
“More like the oldest,” Wilder mutters. “What are you doing here?” His voice is rough, and I’m not sure if he’s angry at his brother for something or at me for snapping at him.
Feeling tension, I step between the brothers. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” I smile at Dallas. Then remember the last time I heard Wes speak of him. My face drops. “Oh, and I’m so sorry for your loss.”
His eyes soften, gratitude filling them.ThankGod. I never know what to say to people when they’re grieving.
“Thank you, Rose.” He gestures behind us. “This was hers. Well, for the last two years, at least.”
My eyes go wide. “Oh, well then I couldn’t possibly—”
“Nonsense. It’s clean, furnished, and has the best view of theriver—it’s perfect. I just stopped by to bring those suitcases of yours. What you got in there, bricks?”
“Art supplies, mostly.”
He rubs his chin. “Huh. Well, walls could use some fresh art, I suppose.”
I hesitate and look at Wilder—not like he’d give me much to work with.
As expected, he ignores me and looks at his brother. “Since you’re here, you, uh .?.?. want to help me give our new temp a tour of the place?”
Dallas gives a low headshake. “Nah, I didn’t make it far past the front door,” he says honestly, and my heart breaks a little for him.
Wilder takes a step toward his brother, his hands on his hips and his voice low. “When I asked you to pick them up off the driveway, I didn’t mean—”
“I know. I wanted to.” Dallas’s kind but hurting eyes turn back to me. “You need anything, just give me a call.” He tips his hat curtly, but there’s no forced smile this time. “Be seein’ ya.”
“Thank you,” I offer softly.
The two of us wait until Dallas drives off before facing each other.
Wilder gives me a scan as he releases a breath, then motions toward the entrance, like I’m the chore he’s been avoiding all day. “After you.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Because let’s be honest, I did just slam into this mountain of a man twice and he’s now probably a little wary of me.
