“You’re not mad at me either,” he insisted. Leaning down and taking her hand, he tugged her up on the boulder next to him. “You’re good and pissed at yourself for getting comfortable, letting yourself lean on someone. So you’re mad as hell that you put yourself into a position where you can get hurt, or disappointed, or let down. And judging by that mangled wall in the kitchen, this is a ‘been there, done that, got a souvenir shot glass’ kind of situation.”

Her chin jutted out. “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “That’s beyond ridiculous. It’s bullshit. And you know what?”

He looked down at her, trying not to appear too entertained. His mom had always told them, “You can learn a lot more about a person on a bad day than you can on a good day.”

“Dammit. You’re right,” she admitted, her breath coming out in a whoosh.

“Darlin’, I’m Mr. Wright.”

Her lips quirked. “You’re saying your last name, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She shook her head. “Ugh. Does that line actually work?”

“We’re about to find out. Now, if you can get showered and changed in the next hour, we can catch happy hour at Decked Out before all the good tables are taken.”

She blinked up at him. “Huh?”

He stepped down, and before she could protest, he picked her up and set her on the ground.

“I’m taking you out for dinner and drinks,” he explained, amused.

“Why?”

Well, it wasn’t a no.

“Because if you don’t talk it out, you’ll just end up grabbing that sledgehammer again. And there’s only so many peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches a person’s allowed to eat before it’s against the law in this state.”

“Idaho has weird laws,” Maggie complained. “But I would hate to break one so early on in my stay.”

He grinned. “You don’t by chance know what chapter sixty-six, section three of Title eighteen says, do you?”

She crossed her arms and looked at him suspiciously. “No. Should I?”

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it, especially if breaking the law would keep you from enjoying a healthy physical relationship with, say, a handsome, sensitive, tall landscaper.”

She shook her head, and he saw another hint of grudging smile. “I thought the full-court press flirting would slow down since you caught me mid–temper tantrum.”

“Are you kidding? I think I’m more head over heels now,” he told her.

“You’re so weird, Wright.”

“I am a student of human interactions. And I can tell you that I witnessed ‘balls-still-attached, blissfully unaware of Mad Maggie’ Dean get in his car and drive off today, which means that, as mad or hurt or pissed off as you were, you didn’t take it out on him.”