Home on the Ranch_The Cowboy's Dilemma by Pamela Britton

Author:Pamela Britton [Britton, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Western, Small Town & Rural, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781335542991
Google: eq9sDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 41861701
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

They painted.

True to his word, he rode off into the sunset and returned with a saddlebag full of paint. Okay, not really. But Jayden hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she had a lot of leftovers.

“We could paint St. Paul’s Cathedral with all this latex,” she told Flynn as she stared into the bed of his truck.

“I know. I’m thinking I might snag any leftovers for my own place.”

“There will probably be lots of leftovers. I don’t plan on using much. But I’ll take that maroon and the green and the white.”

“Not the pink?”

She shook her head.

He shot her a look. “You planning on painting an Italian flag on your wall?”

His words almost made her laugh. “No. Something better. But it’s going to take some time, and you won’t be able to help me with the final product, but I still need to paint the base color. That light blue will work. Let’s get started on that. I moved all the furniture out of the way while you were gone.”

So they got to work and the whole time they did, Amy thought about Trent, and the more she thought about him, the harder she rolled the blue paint up and down the wall.

“Whoa,” Flynn said, smiling. “You’re flicking paint all over the place.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at a splotch on her face and probably making a bigger mess of herself. Thankfully, she’d changed into an old T-shirt and jeans and thrown a scarf over her head. “I’m just tired of letting Trent push me around. It’s time to take action. If he won’t admit to being the baby’s father, he can deal with the Department of Child Support Services from here on out.”

“Good for you.”

She went back to painting, thinking she really didn’t deserve a friend like him. Or maybe she did. After all she’d been through, maybe Flynn was God’s way of saying “I’ve been a jerk. Here’s a bone.” Either way, she appreciated Flynn. With any luck, one day soon she’d forget what it was like to be kissed by a man like him because as she worked alongside him in the tiny little room, the smell of paint barely masking his masculine scent, she grew more and more aware of the fact that they were in a bedroom. But at the same time, it seemed wrong of her to have those kinds of thoughts. The last thing she should be thinking about was another man.

They finished in record time, and Amy and Flynn stood back to admire their handiwork.

“You have paint all over your face,” Flynn said.

“I know,” she said. “I’m going to need to take a shower.”

And suddenly, just like that—boom—a change in the air, one that made their gazes connect, and she knew what he was thinking.

Naked bodies. Warm water. Soap.

She was thinking the same thing, except he couldn’t possibly be thinking about doing that with her. He was just probably thinking about doing that with someone else. Someone skinny with blond hair and blue eyes.

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