CHAPTER THIRTEEN Ian Exhausted beyond comprehensive thought, I dragged myself into the living room after grinding for hours in the workshop on a curio cabinet. A custom order the client wanted by the end of next week. My muscles were strained and protested movement, but the burn felt good. Besides, a shower and eight solid hours of sleep would fix the discomfort. I wondered if Summer was coming by. Probably not. She’d said she had paintings to finish up, thus my late night in the workshop. I’d forgo sleep to see her... As if I’d conjured her, she rose from the recliner in the corner and flipped on a light. The excitement of having her here died when I read the distressed look in her eyes and the border of irritation in the twist of her mouth. “Matt called.” I shoved my hands in my back pockets. “I could give two shits.” Christ, tell me we weren’t going to fight over that guy.
