Excerpt from Hard to Handle
Excerpt TwoShe set aside the ax and strode toward the porch to turn down the music. Mitten-covered hands coming up so she could blow warm breath on them, she approached. “What are you doing up so early?”
It was more a matter of being up late, but Harley kept his business to himself. He nodded toward the woodpile.
“Planning a fire?”
“Hopefully not, but with this weather, electricity is never guaranteed. There’s plenty up at your cabin, don’t worry. I made sure of that over the summer. But my supply was low.”
Had she personally chopped the wood on his front porch? He had serious doubts.
Though he’d just wrapped up an all night sexual marathon, no man with a conscience could walk away from her predicament. “Go on inside.” He headed for the ax. “I’ll finish up.”
“No way!” At five-five, Anastasia was damn near a foot shorter than him. That didn’t stop her from making a stand though. She rushed around in front of him and planted her boot-covered feet. “You are a guest renter, Harley Handleman, not a hired hand. There’s absolutely no way that I can allow you to -”
Small talk was not his forte. Harley walked around her, away from her objections. After situating a log on the chopping stump and hefting the ax, he spared one glance for Anastasia. “Stay back so you don’t get hurt.”
Her brows pinched down. “I mean it, Harley. Don’t you dare–”
He split the log with one blow.
Nonplused, Anastasia loosened her rigid posture. “Oh. Well.” She let out a breath. “You made that look easy.”
Harley shrugged.
She started to pick up the split pieces, but he had it done before she could. She crossed her arms. “You’re good at this. Much better than me.”
No kidding. Because he’d only seen Anastasia in the colder months, he hadn’t had much opportunity to examine her physique without thick sweaters, sweatshirts and bulky layers. But no amount of clothing could disguise her small bone structure and slight weight. He saw it in the delicate lines of her throat, her slender wrists and tapered fingers.
“I’m a man,” he said, and figured that was explanation enough.
“A male chauvinist,” Anastasia clarified with amusement, “but granted, a fit one. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you only did a few pieces...” She trailed off, undecided and arguing more with herself than him, since Harley paid her no mind and just kept working.
“I’ll go inside and make some coffee.”
Harley didn’t reply. He didn’t know if he wanted coffee or not, but by the time he finished, he might, so he let her do as she pleased.
At least she’d be inside, out of the weather.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Anastasia pause on the porch to remove her messy boots, then go through her front door.
With her out of the way, he got down to the business of chopping wood. To his surprise, it felt good to swing the ax and watch the tumble of fat logs turn into a tidy woodpile.
Before long, he’d worked up a sweat, so he removed his coat. By the time he finished close to an hour and a half later, his undershirt and flannel shirt were both damp from a mixture of sweat and sleet. He swiped a sleeve across his brow, and it dawned on him - he hadn’t given the SBC much thought while working.
Huh.
Perhaps chopping wood was just the cure he needed.
Or maybe he’d been too busy thinking about Anastasia to ponder anything else.
The sleet had softened to a damp snowfall. Most of the area now glistened in a layer of ice.
Anastasia stuck her head out the door and caught him standing there, doing nothing more than appreciating the sight of ice on tree limbs, rocks and the woodpile.
“Harley?” she called out. And when he turned to her, she said, “Come on in for some hot coffee. It’ll warm you up.”
“I’m warm enough.” But because he wasn’t all that tired, and he didn’t feel a need to rush back to his cabin to sleep, he picked up his coat and went to the door she’d left standing open for him.
In a quick glance, he scanned the interior where a warm fire flickered in a wood-burning stove, sending waves of welcome heat everywhere. Her place looked different from the one she rented out. Less rustic. Prettier.
Her wood furniture was sun washed oak, almost white, in some European inspired design. The upholstered pieces had soft fabrics with lots of decorative pillows. Throw rugs almost completely covered the hardwood floors. Silk flowers sat on one table, but other than that, she didn’t indulge a need for bric-a-brac.
From what Harley knew of her, the clean, feminine style suited her personality.
“My boots are wet.” He didn’t want to soil her rugs.
“Take them off.”
He looked toward her – and was caught. She’d shed the thick layers and now wore only body-hugging white leggings that showed off slim, shapely legs. A huge, pale pink sweatshirt hung to just below her behind. White and pink striped socks covered her small feet.
As he stared, she bent at the waist to remove something from the oven. Dark hair, disheveled from the outdoors, swung down to hide the side of her face from his view.
Not that he was looking at her face anyway. Nope. The sight of her heart-shaped ass held all his attention.
For a slim, fine-boned woman, Anastasia had a few generous curves.
Still contemplating that sweet behind, Harley said, “The bottoms of my jeans are wet, too.” All the way to his knees in fact.
Using an oven-mitt, Anastasia set a batch of fresh-baked cookies on the range top. She looked at him then, caught him staring, and said without a single twinge, “Take your jeans off too if you want. I’ll toss everything in the dryer.”
Did she think he wouldn’t?
Harley gave her a brief study, saw she didn’t look the least bit teasing or ill at ease, and mentally shrugged.
Why not?
Removing his wallet, keys and cell phone, he tucked them into his coat pocket and hung the coat on a wall rack by the door. The wet laces on his boots proved difficult, but he finally got them untied and set them on the front porch, next to hers.
After closing the door, he stripped off his flannel shirt, unsnapped his jeans, pulled down the zipper... and stepped free.
Without so much as a curious glance at his snug boxers, Anastasia came and took the clothes. “I really do appreciate all the chopped wood. You went above and beyond, Harley. I should be set for awhile now.”
Like his cabin, only bigger, hers was one main room with living room, dining room and kitchen areas flowing together. Only her bathroom and two bedrooms were separate. But the doors stood open, probably to benefit from the heat of the wood stove. Harley saw her neatly made bed, an office of sorts in the spare bedroom, and a very tidy, all white bathroom.
Going to a stack washer and dryer tucked into the corner of the kitchen, Anastasia tossed his damp clothes inside. As she set the dial, she said, “Take a seat, Harley. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Thanks.” If she could pretend it was normal to have morning coffee with a man in his underwear – a man she hadn’t slept with - then he sure as hell wouldn’t let it bother him.