Kason's gut had twisted over the old man's memory loss. Kason understood alone. He'd been on his own since he was sixteen.
As much as he took to anyone, Kason took to the elderly. He'd grown close to his great-uncle Dave after his dad had kicked him out of the house. Dave had put a roof over Kason's head so he could finish high school. Kason never took something for nothing.
Once Crenshaw's mobile home had been towed to his land, Kason had compensated the man in his own way. Throughout the last months of Crenshaw's life, Kason had visited him weekly at the Sunrise Center. He'd hired a private full-time nurse and seen to Crenshaw's comfort.
The week Crenshaw died, the man had locked eyes with Kason for the first time in four months. In those fleeting seconds, Kason had seen Crenshaw's gratitude. He was glad the old man had finally found peace.
That didn't alter the fact that he didn't have papers on the trailer. Though he could show Dayne the deed for the land, he held back. There was no need to flash his bank account in her face. He lived low-key and planned to keep it that way.
There were no autograph seekers at the restaurants, grocery, and retail stores he frequented. People knew him, yet respected his space.
Space he wasn't about to share with the tomboy.
“If you're short on cash, I'll spot you a hotel room while you relocate.” Kason thought his offer generous.
Her chin shot up, sharp, stubborn, and annoying. “You take the room. I'm happy at the trailer.”
“I'm not happy that you're there.”
“Too bad—so sad.”
“Childish, Dayne.”
“Adults don't leave their property unattended,” she stated. “The mobile home was empty when I took it over.”
“I left town for six weeks.” He was rapidly getting tired of explaining himself to this woman. “I had business in Florida and have now officially returned. End of story.”
She wasn't giving up. “There was no sign anyone inhabited the trailer. It smelled musty.”
“I left furniture,” he ground out. “A couch, dining room table and chairs, and a bed.”
“You say it's yours, but why should I believe you?” she asked. “There were no clothes, no personal effects.”
“I live light.” All his clothes had fit in his duffel bag. He carried no baggage. He'd never owned a knickknack. They only collected dust.
“I live to work so I can eat.” She glanced at the man's watch on her wrist, then hit him with a look of disgust. “You've made me late. It's your fault if I get fired.”
My fault? He wouldn't shoulder the blame.
“Take a hike, Kason.” She pushed past him.
“Not so fast.” He grabbed the bike seat, held fast. “I'll give you a ride.”
“I'd rather walk.” Lady was stubborn to a fault.
Her shoulders stiff, she inched the Schwinn forward.
He'd wasted enough time arguing with her.
He jerked the bike back. He was giving her a lift whether she wanted one or not.
Kason's tug threw Dayne off balance. Her right arm flailed and her world tilted. She was an eyeblink from landing facedown on the ground.
Kason had lightning-fast reflexes. He twisted, grabbed her by the shoulders, and kept her on her feet.
The Schwinn tipped over, and chips of rust and paint went flying as the bike bit the dust. The pedals and wheels spun wildly. The white basket fell off and rolled into the ditch.
Kason turned her to face him. His expression was fierce, his chest brick hard. With his shaved head, he had “convict” written all over him. His intensity was both tangible and frightening. Dayne was certain there'd been a probation officer in his past.
She fought off her fear. She could take care of herself—always had, always would. She muscled an inch of breathing room, balled her fists, and thumped his chest. Her aggravation and frustration were at an all-time high.
No one told her what to do. She hated being bullied, even if taking his ride was to her advantage.
Like the men in her past, Kason was a control freak. His grip held firm; she had no wiggle room. The slight yet significant widening of his stance drew her snugly between his thighs.
She felt the full impact of his body.
Every nuance of muscle.
With a gentleness that betrayed his size, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Calm down.”
Breath hissed through her teeth and her chest expanded. She regained her balance.
Time swelled, stretched, and her annoyance lost importance. She shifted toward his clean, raw masculinity.
Without the softening frame of hair, his features had a graphic harshness. He packed wide shoulders, a thick chest, and long legs into six-plus feet. He was pure strength and testosterone. And totally primed.
An unwanted heat streaked her spine.
Awareness punched like a heartbeat.
Attraction accelerated her pulse.
Her body did the unthinkable: it flirted with him.
Her breasts pressed his chest and her hips lightly bumped his zipper. His warmth licked her belly and skimmed like fingertips across her abdomen. Her V-zone tingled.
One heartbeat, and his big hands made their move. They skimmed her spine, curved and cupped her bottom. His fingers locked over the crease of her ass. He clutched her close.
For an insane instant, her mind blanked and she allowed his touch. Full watts of electricity charged her nerve endings. It would be so easy to lean into his palms, let him lift her so she could wrap her legs about his hips.
She wondered how they'd fit.
A sudden twitch between his thighs and his hiss blew by her ear. Anger and annoyance clearly marked his features. Aroused, he'd had a lapse in judgment. He was visibly mad at himself.
Dayne was equally furious for going so deep in the moment. After Mick Jakes, she'd sworn off men. She shoved against his chest and he released her.
“Go about your business and let me go about mine,” she forced out.
He narrowed his eyes. “I can't move on with you standing knee deep in my life.”
“I'm knee deep and staying,” she stated. “I like living in the woods. It's quiet and peaceful.” The land soothed her broken heart. The solitude pieced her soul back together.
Kason Rhodes also lived for peace and privacy. Dayne's similar preferences weren't a strong enough bond to make them roommates, though. Not now, not ever.