Chapter 1

1

PRESLEY

C haos. That was the best word to describe what I saw as I approached the Rosewood Ridge Courthouse.

It was on a street just a few miles off the interstate exit, marked with a brown sign with white letters that read Downtown . But all I saw was a gigantic courthouse with roads around it that were lined with law firms and insurance offices.

From the looks of things, that insurance office might come in handy.

"Could you give me a hand with this?"

The male voice came from behind me as I stood facing away from the courthouse, staring at the diner across the street. It looked open, even though one of the windows was boarded up. I was debating grabbing some eggs, or maybe pancakes, and my stomach leaped to life in response. But when I turned, a different part of my body leaped to life—my heart.

Holy shit, this guy was hot. And not in a "no other guys around" way, like the guys in my small hometown. No, this hunk would be the best-looking person anywhere, as far as I was concerned.

But the warmth in his eyes contradicted everything else about him. He looked like he could rip a bear apart with his bare hands while also treating the woman he loved like a delicate flower. It was a combination that made me go a little weak in the knees.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, completely forgetting what he'd said. He was looking right at me, so it must have been directed at me.

"Grab the other end of this, if you don't mind," he said. "Everyone else seems to have left me."

I looked around, confused. A group of people was over to the right, packing up boxes. The rest of the room was empty. Who'd left him?

"Sure," I said, hiking my tote bag up higher on my shoulder and grabbing the other end of the wood table he was holding.

"You can set that down if you want."

It took me a second or two to realize he was referring to my tote bag. No way was I leaving that unattended. Yes, it had my wallet inside, but it also had all kinds of information about my boss's pricing. One glimpse at that and these people would run me out of town.

"I'm good," I said. "Let's do this."

He stared at me a long second as I lifted. The piece of furniture wasn't all that heavy, but I couldn't move it myself. He needed to do his part.

"I'll walk backward," the guy said. "Just try not to hit anything on the way out."

He didn't really follow through on the offer to walk backward, though. Instead, he turned and headed out, face first. That meant his back was to me, leaving me to admire those bulging biceps and the shoulder muscles visible through the back of his T-shirt.

I was here to get in, get business, and get out. But if it meant staring at this piece of eye candy, I could be convinced to stick around for a while.

"There were a bunch of other volunteers, but they headed over to Sugarplum Farms," he called back. "Lots of damage in that neighborhood."

"Sugarplum Farms?" I asked.

We were through the front door by then, and he led us off the sidewalk and onto the lawn next to the front door. We set the piece of furniture near a bunch of identical items. That was when I pieced together that this was probably the long piece of wood furniture that city council members sat behind during their meetings.

"Sugarplum Farms used to be a Christmas tree farm," the guy said. "At least that's what it was when I was growing up here. The family sold off most of the land to developers, and now there's just a tiny area where they sell their trees every year." He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked around. "Not much left to do here. If you want to go on over there with me, I can hop in my truck and lead the way."

I reached for my tote bag, sliding my hand inside. "I'm actually here to offer our services." I pulled out the business card holder at the bottom of the bag and retrieved a card. "We can help with windows, doors, roofs, cabinetry…anything the community needs. Our rates are reasonable."

I was standing in front of him by then, and I held out the card. He didn't take it, though. He was staring at me with a completely unreadable expression. After remaining frozen like that for at least a half minute, he let out a laugh. I reflexively withdrew the business card, holding it closer to me as I gawked at him.

He gave me a once-over. "Your type comes in all shapes and sizes, don't you?"

That question took me from confused to offended. "Excuse me?"

"They warned us about it when we first gathered this morning. There will be sharks in the water, swimming around, looking for victims. They come from all over with their business cards and promises."

Okay, now I was offended for a completely different reason. I thought initially he was saying something about my shape and size. Yes, I had more curves than most of my friends. I wore a triple-D bra size, and I had to order a very specific brand of jeans online because of my generous ass. But I'd never had trouble getting the attention of the kind of men who liked women with curves.

Normally, I wouldn't care if this guy didn't approve, but for a brief second, I did care. I wanted him to find me attractive. I would have been devastated to find out he didn't. It was the first time I had felt that way about a guy, and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"You're talking about people trying to make a living," I said. "Our offices are just twenty minutes from here, and my boss thought people might need help."

The guy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me. "If you really wanted to help, you wouldn't be here trying to make money off people who've lost everything. Let me ask you this. Are you discounting your rates for tornado victims?"

As he waited for an answer, I tried my best to swallow around the lump that had formed in my throat. No, we weren't discounting. In fact, the price sheet in my tote bag was a ten percent across-the-board increase over our normal prices.

I should lie. It was what I'd trained to do. In any other circumstance, I would find a way to at least pretty up the truth. But for some reason, looking at this guy, the words that spilled out of my mouth directly opposed my training.

"My boss calls it surge pricing," I said, gripping the strap of my tote bag. "People want to get their houses back to normal as soon as possible." I shrugged. "We help."

"You can give your boss a message from me and the entire town of Rosewood Ridge," he said.

The warmth I'd glimpsed in his eyes earlier was gone. It had been replaced by an iciness that chilled me to the core.

"What's that?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"Fuck off."