Wyatt knew he was being a jerk, but he had no experience with women who had romantic notions about him. He didn’t know how to discourage Erin and be nice to her at the same time. So he was being a jackass. That worked. She didn’t flirt with him when she was pissed off.

He shifted his attention to his dog, who was not aiding his cause. For reasons beyond him, Domino had fallen in love with Erin at first sight last September and remained besotted ever since. “Domino, off!” Wyatt ordered, disregarding Erin’s plea for leniency. It wasn’t her dog, and Wyatt didn’t want Domino to develop bad manners. “Off, I said!”

Erin dimpled a cheek and said, “He’s fine, Wyatt.” Then she resumed ruffling the animal’s fur. “Yes, you’re wonderful,” she told the dog. “It’s good to know that at least somebody likes me.”

Reading her lips to determine each word she uttered, Wyatt found himself wishing he could hear the intonations of her voice. Why, he didn’t know, because he felt sure every syllable dripped with sarcasm. During the wedding reception, she’d attempted to chat with him, and he’d shut her down. So now she was all butt-hurt about it. A part of him felt bad about that, but he couldn’t afford concern over her. For him, holding her at arm’s length was a matter of self-preservation. Today, he found her even more tempting than usual. The silky blouse and flowery skirt displayed her body in a way that a shirt and trousers didn’t, making him acutely aware of her physically. Not a good thing. Because of this woman, he’d recently awakened in the middle of the night from the first wet dream he’d had in at least fifteen years. Talk about embarrassing. He’d been surrounded by other men in the bunkhouse, and when he woke up, every other guy in the room had been sitting straight up in bed. Now, whenever Wyatt thought about that night, his stomach felt as if it shriveled up like a rotten walnut. Dear God. In his dream, he’d been making love to Erin, no holds barred. And although he hadn’t asked, he knew all the other men had guessed what was going on. Just our foreman, getting his rocks off. Poor, deaf bastard.

“What?” Erin demanded. “You’re glaring at me like I just popped your last birthday balloon.”

He hadn’t meant to scowl at her. Trying to smooth the wrinkles from his brow, he curved his lips in what he hoped resembled a smile. It wasn’t that he disliked Erin. Far from it. She just resurrected yearnings and feelings that he couldn’t allow himself to have. He wished he knew how to distance himself from her without making her feel rejected. Only how could a guy do that? He guessed he could explain, but in order to do that, he’d have to tell her things about himself she had no need to know. His checkered past was his business and only his business.