I still have to try to keep this woman at arm’s length. For her sake, and for mine.

Luckily—shockingly—we make a decent team. We argue a lot over the budget, but we somehow make it work. When I push her, she (mostly) manages to find creative solutions to problems or ideas that would otherwise put us in the red. My contractor reports she always shows up, even if she’s late. His sub-contractors adore her.

Julia is talented, hardworking, and clearly flexible.

Unique as hell, too. It’s her quick mind. Quick mouth. The way she dresses like some sexy bohemian Stevie Nicks goddess. How fearless she is when she’s calling me out or coming after me. The truth doesn’t scare her, and apparently neither do I.

Girl does not give two fucks about what I think. About what anyone thinks.

I give too many fucks. About everything.

We couldn’t be more different if we tried.

But I swear, fighting this bizarre, hugely inappropriate, hugely inconvenient boner I have for her has turned me into a legit monster.

I roared a lot to begin with. Now—

Now I’m one of Khaleesi’s dragons. I breathe fire and bring instant death upon anyone who crosses my path. I’m a broody jerk when I go too long without seeing her. I’m a broody jerk when I do see her.

It’s a vicious cycle. One I can’t seem to break, as evidenced by today’s visit. I don’t need to be here. But Julia was on the schedule this afternoon for a site visit. I told myself I came to double check the HVAC install and have a conversation with her about reworking some budget stuff.

Deep down, I know I’m full of shit.

Julia is standing in the center of the barn, facing away from me. Bent at the waist, elbows on a sawhorse as she looks down at the plans draped over it. One booted foot taps softly against the worn floorboards in time to a silent song. Wild, wavy blond hair everywhere.

When my eyes fall on her ass, simultaneously cute and luscious, just like the rest of her, I consider impaling myself on the pitchfork beside the barn door.

A fitting end for a heartless schmuck like me.

Instead, I stare. Julia usually wears long dresses. But today she’s wearing one that’s short—weather is warm for this time of year. Seeing her bare legs makes me want to pull my hair out. Then pull her bottom lip between my teeth.

Would she bite back? Or would she whimper? Surrender?

I groan. A sound I manage to turn into a growl, thank fuck.

Julia glances over her shoulder. She straightens, crossing her arms.

She doesn’t greet me. Looks at me instead, waiting for me to explain why I’m being extra dickish before we’ve even said a word.

I think about you too much. I want you too much. I need to stay away from you but I can’t, and it’s driving me insane.

“Cabinet estimate came back,” I blurt. “It’s triple what we have budgeted. A storefront selling grits and collards doesn’t need custom cabinetry done up in high gloss European paint.”