A Perfect Storm
Page 88

“You think so? Well, I’ll concede the possibility,” Arizona told her with a flat smile. She studied Marla a moment longer. “Can you be trusted?”
“With what?”
“The context matters, huh?” Sardonic, Arizona waved a hand. “Never mind. Trust comes in layers. I get it. I just meant with Spencer, with having his best interests in mind.”
“Of course.” Especially since she believed Spencer’s best interests were also her own. “Why?”
“I need to know if you’ll be working tomorrow morning.”
Marla shook her head. “I’m off until midafternoon.”
“Okay.” Arizona thought about it a little more. “That might work, then. Thanks.”
“That’s it?” She wasn’t going to explain?
“For now, yeah. See, Spencer’s coming back, so we should wrap up this little chat. He wouldn’t like us gabbing about him. But honestly, Marla, when I do bounce—because I’m pretty sure that I’ll have to eventually, maybe even sooner than I’d hoped—I wish you luck with him. But only if you can make him happy.” She leaned in closer, her gaze direct, even threatening. “If you can’t, then stay the hell away from him. Got it?”
Marla leaned back from the intensity of Arizona’s stare—and she nodded.
And then Spencer was there, shoving oversize lawn bags toward Marla and giving Arizona a level look while handing her a bow saw. “Everything okay?”
“Just dandy.”
He watched her a few seconds more. “If you want to cut off the smaller branches at the top there, I’ll start on the other end.”
“Got it.”
“You know how to use that?”
She eyed the tool with a smirk. “Put it to the branch and…start sawing? Easy peasy.”
Spencer shook his head. “Don’t give yourself blisters, okay?”
Irate over their intimate chitchat, Marla loudly shook out a bag. “Shouldn’t we get started?”
“We should,” Arizona agreed, and she walked away from Spencer—leaving Marla there with him.
The humidity was such that already his shirt stuck to his wide chest and broad shoulders. “Thank you for doing this.” The big branch trembled as Arizona began sawing away.
“No problem.” He surveyed the branch, which was more like a small tree. “I just hope we can get it all done before we need to take off.”
As he went to the largest section of the branch and knelt down to prime the chain saw, Marla followed him.
“She’s a peculiar girl.”
“I’d say unique.” He dismissed her to pull on safety goggles.
Marla touched his shoulder to regain his attention, then couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her fingertips over the sensual feel of soft cotton covering solid muscles.
No one wore a T-shirt like Spencer. He was so deliciously big and solid and…hard.
Going still, Spencer glanced toward Arizona—who literally paid them no mind at all—then looked up. “What are you doing, Marla?”
He truly had no interest in her. None. Not a spec. He didn’t enjoy her attention now, not even to spur Arizona’s jealousy.
When she forced herself to be honest, she had to admit that he’d never been all that interested. Willing on occasion, sure, because she’d thrown herself at him every chance she got. But he’d never been in hot pursuit.
Mostly her success at getting into bed with him had been based on catching him at moments of weakness. Not that a man like him had any real weakness. But Arizona was right: he still loved his deceased wife—and she’d played on that.
God, that made her sound awful. Like an opportunist. Like a user.
Her pride saved her. She dropped her hand and lifted her chin. “I just wanted to ask if you put on sunscreen? The clouds are parting finally. It’s going to be a scorcher.”
He squinted up at the sun, then turned toward Arizona. “Do you need sunscreen?” he called over to her.
Arizona smirked and, without looking at them, said, “Not if you two stop playing around over there, so we can get done with this sooner rather than later.”
Ah. So she hadn’t been so oblivious after all. Marla forced a smile. “I’ll start picking up the debris.” She hated yard work, but she couldn’t very well ask for Spencer’s help, then go off to her air-conditioned living room.
Once the chain saw started, there was no more talking, and they made quick work of it. Arizona finished with the smaller branches and, beaded with sweat, went straight into helping Marla fill the bags.
Wilted, Marla used her wrist to brush her hair away from her face.
“I’m dying of thirst,” Arizona said. “You got anything cold to drink?”
“Colas or iced tea.”
“Iced tea sounds great. Why don’t I finish up here while you go get some glasses for everyone?”
Marla eyed the remaining work. “If that’s what you want.” She’d be thrilled for any reason to get out of the heat, even one fabricated by Arizona.
“Thanks. Take your time. We’re just about done here.” While Spencer stacked the wood in her side yard, Arizona went one further and found a rake to get up the rest of the mess. She even whistled while sweating, as if physical work in the hot sun was a pleasure.
So very peculiar.
And damn it, almost likable. Almost. More disturbed than ever, Marla went inside to fetch the tea. God willing, they would be done with all the dirty, heavy lifting before she returned.