Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

The flash of metallic silver in the bright afternoon sun caught my eye as I turned to watch the BMW drive way too fast toward the guest cottage. Toward Rhodes. Something about that made my gut churn.

Who was I kidding? Everything about her twisted my insides. Too beautiful. Too bright. Too kind. She even took in damn dogs.

“Prick,” Saul muttered next to me as he scribbled something on his clipboard and then offered it to me.

I signed the bottom line without bothering to read the fine print. Saul handled our dumpsters for every project. He’d never screw us. “You know the flash?” I asked.

Saul grunted. “Grew up here. Always had a bit of a cocky shit in him, but then he went down to Silicon Valley. Made some millions. Came back thinking he was God’s gift. Prick.”

I watched as the tall, lean man climbed out of the sedan. I couldn’t help but profile him in swift strokes. His brown hair was styled in a way that told me he didn’t want a thing out of place. Same with his perfectly pressed slacks and button-down. He needed control. To force everything around him into submission.

The luxury car brand, Gucci loafers, and gold watch I had a feeling was a Rolex told me his image was everything, too. He wanted the best of the best, and nothing else would suffice.

I had a feeling Saul was right. Total prick.

As the douchebag prowled toward Rhodes, a prickle of unease skated over my skin—something about his single-minded focus on her, and the way Rhodes held herself. She was usually relaxed, muscles loose and easy. There was none of that now. Her shoulders were up, revealing the tension wound through them. Her jaw was set, telling me her teeth were clenched. She didn’t want him here.

“They know each other?” I asked, handing the clipboard back to Saul.

His brows rose a fraction in surprise. I’d never asked him a question other than what time drop-off would be. “Everyone in this town knows each other if they’ve been around long enough. Everyone except loners who hide up in their cabins and don’t talk to a soul.”

I didn’t respond to the jibe, simply kept staring at him.

Saul chuckled. “From what I hear, they dated for a bit. Rho broke it off a few weeks ago. Davis wasn’t overly pleased.”

My gaze shifted back to the two of them. The douchebag wasn’t what I thought Rhodes would go for. I would’ve pegged her as either going for some Pollyanna do-gooder, the Peace Corps type, or someone broken she thought she could fix. Not a guy who cared first and foremost about his image. But maybe I was slipping by not being in the field.

The douchebag smiled at Rhodes, all too-white teeth and a smarmy attempt at charm. She grimaced in response. He moved closer, invading her space. Rhodes tried to move back, but there was nowhere for her to go.

Hell.

I was moving before I registered the thought. I stalked toward them, my boots sending gravel flying. It wasn’t long before I could hear snippets of their conversation.

“Let me have my interior designer consult on the project. I’ll handle the cost. You want to make sure you’re making the appropriate design choices with a house of this magnitude,” douchebag said.

Rhodes scowled at him. “I don’t need an interior designer. Shep’s helping me with everything.”

Douchebag scoffed. “Shep runs a good company, I’ll give him that, but he doesn’t have the elevated tastes required⁠—”

“Rhodes,” I interjected. “Need your take on something.”

Davis whirled at the sound of my voice. “Who’s this?”

A little of the tension bled out of Rhodes’ shoulders as she edged toward me. “Anson works with Shep. He’s handling the fire-restoration piece of things.”

Davis’s eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be advising her to start from scratch? It’s ridiculous to try to repair a structure that’s been so badly damaged.”

A muscle in Rhodes’ cheek ticked, but she stayed quiet.

“It’s a historic home. Can’t put a price on that,” I said coolly. “Some people are just blind to the beauty beneath the damage.”

Rhodes’ gaze jerked to me, her eyes widening a fraction, lips parting.

Davis scoffed. “Waste of time and money.”

I ignored him and turned to Rhodes. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” she said quickly, wiping dirt from her hands on her shorts that revealed tanned legs with sinewy muscle. Legs I did not need to be staring at.

“We’re talking,” Davis clipped.

Rhodes turned to him. “No, you were monologuing.”

He snapped his mouth closed, the look in his eyes going hot with anger.

She sighed. “I appreciate the offer of help, but I don’t need it. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Davis’s jaw worked back and forth. “You’re in over your head.” Then he turned and climbed back into his BMW, tires spitting gravel as he swung in a tight circle and took off.

Rhodes’ shoulders slumped as he disappeared in a cloud of dust. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled.

“Not yours to be sorry about.”

Her head lifted, those green-gold eyes locking with mine. “What did you need?”

“Nothing. Could just tell you were uncomfortable. Wanted to give you an out.”

Rhodes kept staring at me, confusion swirling through her expression. “You’re never predictable, are you, Anson?”

She said my name with a softness that had my entire body standing at attention. Everything in me wanted to lean closer, yet at the same time, my brain was screaming at me to cut this off, lash out, and push her away.

“Just don’t like seeing women intimidated. That’s all.” I turned to stalk away before she could say another word, or her voice could curl around my name like a physical caress.

I had to keep my distance from Rhodes. She had a way of breaking through the numbness I’d made my home for the past two years. And that was just as dangerous as she was.

“You kick the douche to the curb?” a voice called from the makeshift table we’d set up in front of the house.

I glanced at the crew member who’d asked the question. Silas was a hard worker with a single-minded focus that came in handy on every job we came across. And he was a good guy, other than moving from woman to woman with a speed that made my head spin.

“Think he kicked himself to the curb,” I muttered.

Another of our crew ambled over, water bottle in hand. Owen didn’t have quite the work ethic Silas did. His breaks were legendary, and he had a reputation for punching first and asking questions later. “He’ll be back. Money like that don’t like hearing no.”

“He might want to get used to it,” I gritted out.

“Shep won’t stand for it,” Silas said. “He’ll make sure the message gets across. Or he’ll put Trace on it.”

As if saying his name had conjured him, Shep’s silver truck bumped along the uneven drive. We needed to get the thing regraded before one of us broke an axle.

Shep pulled in between various other vehicles and quickly hopped out, glancing toward the guest cottage as he walked toward us. “A silver BMW come by here?”

Carlos, another crew member, grinned as he walked over. “Moneybags came and went.”

Concern spread across Shep’s expression as he cursed.

“Don’t worry,” Silas assured him. “Anson sent him packing.”

Shep’s focus sliced to me in silent question.

I shifted my weight. “It was nothing. Just made sure she was okay, and he took off.”

“Took off looking like he was about to have the shits or sucked on a lemon,” Silas shot back.

Shep inclined his head to the side. “Walk with me. I need to run something by Rho.”

The last thing I wanted was to walk any closer to Rhodes. To her brightness, her color. It only made me realize just how gray my world had become.

Still, I followed Shep just out of earshot of the guys. He dipped his head and lowered his voice. “I need to be worried?”

I mulled the question over. There were so many threads to it. I didn’t want to tug on any of them. But I owed Shep. Everything, really. “How long did they date?”

“About a month. Not serious. A date or two a week.”

I gnawed on that. So, a max of eight dates. Chances were, they’d slept together. That could be a trigger for someone with control issues or obsessive tendencies. I knew for sure Davis was the former, but hoped he wasn’t the latter. “How long ago did Rhodes end things?”

Shep scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “It was just before Lolli’s birthday, so about three and a half weeks.”

That pinged my radar. Davis still coming around almost a month after the breakup of a relationship that hadn’t gotten all that serious? Not a good sign.

“Probably a good idea to keep an eye out,” I said carefully. “But she’s got a lot of people around her right now. He’s going to know there’s the potential of him making a fool of himself with an audience like he did today. A guy like him? He’s not going to like that much.”

Shep grunted. “He’s all about image. I think that’s half of why he’s still after Rho. She ended things, not him.”

That thought eased a little of the tension thrumming through me. Ego was a much better option than obsession. Ego wounds could heal. Obsession, not so much. And sometimes, you didn’t know what you were dealing with until it was too late.