Page 8 of Her Rugged Guardian

Moose barked once as if able to read my mind. Okay, so I wasn’t alone. I had my furball who did keep me warm and cozy at night. And I had my handy-dandy selection of vibrators. One was never enough.

The mystery man hesitated. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed he still had his arm lifted, his fingers curled tightly around the belt as if holding on for dear life. It was as if the man was frozen in time, staring down at, his mouth twisting in either frustration or anger. That lasted only a few seconds, his eyes turning darker.

Another volley of savage strikes brought me down off the rafters or maybe shot me toward the ceiling. I kicked out involuntarily, catching him somewhere painful, his sharp groan almost pushing a laugh up from my throat, but I thought better of it.

While I wasn’t certain of how many more lashes were left, I realized very quickly that the spanking had stopped. Mr. Grinch took purposeful steps toward the dining room, his breathing still labored. Moose trotted after him and I heard other noise.

I shifted on the table, almost falling on my face as I jumped off, fighting to jerk my panties and jeans into position. I half hopped toward the dining room, ready to remind the intruder he wasn’t welcome in my home any longer.

He stormed out of the room through the second oversized entryway and barely two seconds later, the front door slammed with enough force it seemed the entire house was shaking.

Sighing, I slowly glanced down at Moose, who harrumphed before sneezing.

“That’s exactly what I have to say, little buddy. Why don’t we get settled. Mr. Grinch is out of my life for good.”

Why did I have the distinct feeling that wasn’t going to hold true?

CHAPTER 3

Jake

Cinnamon Girl.

The name suited her, although Cassandra was beautiful, far too much so, which was more annoying than the dull ache behind my eyes. Hell, now I’d admitted I found the incorrigible vixen attractive. I’d had other less than nice adjectives and names that had crossed my mind more than once, but my mother hadn’t raised a hooligan. I might be grumpy, but I still refused to call the sassy vixen the ‘b’ word. Even if that’s what she’d acted like.

Besides, I had about a half dozen reasons to be in a perpetual bad mood. And who did the girl think she was anyway?

Margaret had been a wonderful client, and although she’d come into hard times, unable to pay me what she owed, I’d kept working for her. She’d been the one bright spot, just about the only person in town who could still make me smile.

Now she was dead.

I was probably the only person who didn’t buy that cancer had killed her.

After turning over the engine, I pulled my hand to my face. She really did smell like the sweetest cinnamon buns fresh out of the oven. Snarling, I did what I could to shove her and her dog out of my mind.

Gravel flew as I pumped on the accelerator, the back end of my truck swerving back and forth. I glared into the rearview mirror, snarling even as the exterior of Tangerine Sunset finally faded into the shadows.

On top of having my head bashed in by a toaster, almost licked to death by a frothing beast, the woman had kicked me in the balls. As bad as all three had been, the fact my cock was now throbbing from desire was even worse. I didn’t need complications in my life. I also didn’t need her as a client. Nope.

I had plenty to go around and I liked my life just the way it was.

Even if it was all alone, that suited me just fine.

I should go straight back to my house and head to bed, ridding my mind of the filthy thoughts running through it. Instead, what was I doing? Heading to the local watering hole owned by a jerk I couldn’t stand. Still, maybe tonight was a perfect night to have a drink or three and Scotty’s was close enough to my house I could make it home without concern. Snorting, I glanced into the rearview mirror one last time before making the turn, my grip so firm around the steering wheel I was certain I would break it.

Just like I did almost everything else in my life.

My head hurt like a son of a bitch and I winced when I touched it. The girl had a solid swing, even if it was with a toaster.I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. She was a five-foot ten-inch girl, for God’s sake, and she’d managed to crawl under my skin, shredding a portion of it.

Staying away from her was going to be vital. Thank God, I had enough work to keep me away from the B & B for a long time.

As I headed closer to town, passing by the local bakery and Millie’s Diner, I thought about calling my buddy, Connor, to join me. Nah. He’d just spent a couple of hours lecturing me about my mental health issues. It was nothing a cold brew and a shot of whiskey couldn’t cure.

And I didn’t have a fucking phone any longer thanks to the little vixen.

I pulled into the parking lot of Scotty’s Place, noticing the parking lot of the dive bar was almost full and on a Wednesday night. Maybe I should just turn around. One beer then I was out of here. I had an early day. The trouble was that my next job was repairing the hole in Margaret’s roof. No, in the bed and breakfast owned by Ms. Cassandra Dayne. Margaret had signed the proposal slip, squeezing my hand and making me promise to take care of her beloved business. That had been two days before her death.

The fact I’d been told to stay clear of the estate while it was in probate by the surly attorney had left a bad taste in my mouth and even more interior damage to the place. Okay, so I’d known where Margaret had kept a hidden key and had let myself in. That didn’t make me the bad guy.