He’d managed to avoid going into the site office all day, shamelessly using Skip to run to the trailer to locate blueprints, grab keys off the rack, and other tasks he’d normally have done himself. He’d asked Skip to buy lunch for Rachel and the kids and eat with them because he, cool, single-minded ex-Ranger, was too intimidated to be in close proximity of a brown-eyed woman who was turning his brain into putty. That didn’t stop him from lingering within eyesight of the trailer all day. If he was drawn away by a problem elsewhere, he was quick to finish and return. On the one hand, he wanted to push Rachel away. The woman got under his skin too easily. On the other hand, he longed to pull her closer and take up the battle against her demons. Her demons were proving to be particularly nasty. He thought of the note he’d handed over to his brother this morning, the one he’d found on his truck seat when he took Rachel and the kids to work. The words were pieced together from magazines or newspapers and pasted into place like a ransom note, which was disturbing enough.
