Unrestrained by Joey W. Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

pile of sleek furred muscle next to the other dog.
    Dale probably had a great singing voice, but she suspected the gods who’d designed that riveting deep timbre had intended one primary use for it. Issuing commands. She stepped into the shed to find him at a workbench, up to his elbows in a bag of soil. When she placed the coffee on the edge of the bench, out of his way but within his reach, he glanced at it, then nodded to a stool. “You can sit there.”
    “Thank you. The first thing I should do is apologize for my abysmal behavior last night,” she began. “I’m not usually that irresponsible around a total stranger.”
    “The first thing you should do is drink your coffee.” He sent a pointed look toward the stool. “Sit.”
    She slid onto the stool. He had a sturdy wooden flat on the bench, and he’d arranged eight plastic inserts into it, with a half-dozen spaces in each. He divided the soil among them before he began to drop seeds into each opening. Though he had big hands, they handled the tiny seeds with gentle care. As he pressed the seeds below the blanket of dirt, the activity spread the smell of earth and growing things through the shed. Watching him kept her tranquil and quiet. She sipped her coffee.
    He dusted off his hands over the soil bag and wiped them on a rag before he picked up his coffee. He didn’t use the sugar or creamer she’d provided, so she assumed that was for the benefit of his guests. He preferred his black. She’d remember that. And ignore why she was making such mental notes.
    “You weren’t irresponsible,” he said. “You were disoriented after a traumatic event. An event you handled well. You kept your cool, fought back. You looked pissed, not frightened. The only time you looked rattled was when you thought he was going to get your rings.”
    She gripped them in reaction, reminding herself they were there. “I need to take them off, put them in a safe at home. It’s foolish to wear them, especially in that environment.”
    “It tells men you’re still off-limits, that you haven’t figured out what you want. Or if you want anything.” Dale lifted a shoulder. “Under those conditions, it makes sense to wear them.”
    Athena took another sip of the coffee. Since she liked hers with some cream, a little sugar, it had a lighter texture than Dale’s, like dark caramel. “So you know about my husband.”
    “Yes. I’m sorry.”
    No elaboration, but sincerely meant, which impacted her more than a hundred words. It made her throat ache, the coffee burn on the way down.
    “I was looking for you in the parking lot. That’s how I saw what was happening.” He met her surprised gaze. “The way you looked at me in the club, I thought you wanted something from me. I came to find out what it was.”
    She nearly blushed, telling her she was desperately out of practice at this. At the club, blunt communication was typical and vital, no subtleties or beating around the bush. There might be flirtation, like what they’d briefly indulged in the car, but when clear information was needed, things were straightforward.
    She should tell him he was mistaken. Compliment him on his work with Willow, make some polite chitchat, offer to take him to breakfast to thank him for his help, and that would be the end of it.
    A refined woman to the bone, she was courteous to everyone, no matter what she felt.
I’m fine, how are you, how are your children?
Always doing the right thing. She didn’t see that as a shortcoming, as so many seemed to feel it was these days, those who preferred to wear everything they were on the outside, like dirty underwear. She took pride in who and what she was, but this moment called for something different, a side of herself she hadn’t explored . . . ever.
    He was waiting for her answer. Since even in this different environment she was feeling the tug of that influence he’d had over her last night, it suggested it was more than a flight of fancy. But then