“There’s something terrifying about a beautiful woman who can handle power tools,” he said. Riley revved the electric drill in her hand and Brady faked terror. “Long as you stay out of my way, you’re safe,” she said. “No problem there,” he said. Sierra looked from Brady, cool and calm on the porch swing with his beer, to Shane and the boys, who were shrouded in the dust rising from the dry, hot dirt of the riding arena. “Let’s make lemonade.” “Why? Somebody give you lemons?” Brady asked. “No.” She smiled. “Not today, anyway.” Riley shed her tool belt and goggles and hung out in the kitchen while Sierra stirred up a pitcher of Country Time. Their conversation was a little awkward, but Sierra was reassured; they were still friends. The frost between them was dissolving, sure as the sugar was dissolving in the glass pitcher as she stirred.
