The Rancher Returns by Brenda Jackson Page B

“What?”
    â€œDirections. Gramma Mel said the spot is just past the old barn. Which way do I go after that?”
    The barn he was talking about was a big empty building painted red. According to Ms. Melody, it hadn’t been used in years but the structure looked sound. More than once Layla had been tempted to take a peek inside but the doors were bolted up. She wondered if Gavin would allow them to keep their excavation equipment stored there. Since he seemed in a pretty good mood this morning, it might be a good time to ask. “And about that old barn?”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œI’m going to need a place to store my heavy equipment, like the loader backhoe and tractor, for the excavation. May I use the old barn?”
    He glanced over at her and she could imagine what he was thinking. Why should he do anything to help her when he was counting on her to fail? He surprised her when he said, “Yes, you can use the old barn.”
    She smiled. Since he was being so generous she decided to go for the gusto. “There’s also a smaller building next to the barn. I understand it used to be the old bunkhouse.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œMay I use that, as well? I’ll need somewhere to test soil samples and such.”
    He looked at her again. “Are you trying to take advantage of my kindness, Layla?”
    â€œYes, I guess I am, Gavin.”
    A husky chuckle escaped his lips. “At least you’re honest. Yes, you can use that old shack, as well.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    She didn’t say anything for a minute as they drove. “Make a left turn at the next tree and drive another couple of miles,” she said. “You can park in the clearing next to the stumps. I’ve marked the exact spot where we’ll be digging.”
    â€œOkay.”
    The rest of the drive was done in silence. She was glad when he finally brought the truck to a stop a short while later.
    * * *
    Gavin drew in a deep breath. With his hands still gripping the steering wheel he stared straight ahead at the view out of the windshield. He needed to get his bearings. Everything about Layla was getting to him. The way she looked, her scent, the way she wore her hair. The way that same hair had blown in the wind when his truck whooshed across his property.
    â€œI can tell you miss coming here.”
    Did she make that assumption because of the way he was still sitting here, trying to keep his mind and body under control? Yet, she was right. He had missed coming here.
    â€œYes. As a kid I used to come to this area a lot. There’s a huge lake not far from here. It separates our land from the Lotts’ property and it’s on the Lotts’ land. But that didn’t mean anything to me. Not even the no-swimming-allowed sign Sherman Lott had posted. I used to sneak into the lake and go swimming as a teen every chance I got. On a good day I would swim for hours without getting caught.”
    â€œAnd on a bad day?”
    He chuckled. “On a bad day Sherman Lott would call my grandmother and report me for trespassing.”
    She lifted a brow. “Honestly? He would actually call and tell on you?”
    â€œAll the time. He didn’t like anyone swimming or fishing in that lake. But I had a lot of years of good fishing there, as well.”
    He smiled, remembering how defying Mr. Lott had pleased him immensely. “Time to look around. But before we get out there’s something we need to do.”
    She lifted her brow. “What?”
    â€œKiss. More than anything, I want to kiss you, Layla.”
    * * *
    Layla couldn’t believe he’d said that. Kiss? Hadn’t they done that enough already? Not that she was counting but he’d kissed her twice. Why was he going for three? Why was she hoping that he would?
    â€œKiss me?” she asked, softly, hoping he didn’t pick up on the yearning in her