Free Playing with Fire by Desiree Holt

around the edges of the window shade, she got up to work on the house. She stepped into the shorts and T-shirt she’d thrown over a chair, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and hurried to the kitchen. In seconds, she had the coffee pot going. Too bad she couldn’t wave a magic wand and make her wonderful single-serving pot appear. Today she reminded herself to eat, popping bread in the toaster while she filled a mug.
    She was munching on the last bite when she heard a truck pull into the driveway. A glance at the clock told her it was almost six thirty. Nobody started life that early in Stoneham. Peeking through the curtains, she saw Griff lifting equipment out of a pickup labeled Hunter Landscape Services . Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she opened the door and stepped out on the porch.
    “I think this is a very bad idea.” She tried to sound as firm as possible. If she let him into one corner of her life, he’d take the rest. She couldn’t do it again. Sure, he’d said he loved her, but could she believe him? Trust him, after everything?
    He looked up. “Planning on doing the yard work yourself?”
    “No, but—”
    “Okay, then. I try to get as much done as I can before the worst heat of the day. I thought I’d get all the hand work done before starting the mower. Don’t want your neighbors throwing rocks at me.”
    She started to tell him again to go away, but her mouth had its own idea of what to say. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
    He stopped arranging his tools and looked at her for a moment then nodded. When he spoke, his tone was as reserved as hers. “Yes. That would be nice. Black, no sugar.”
    “Easy enough.” Cassie girl, you are playing with fire again. How many times will you hold yourself in the flame?
    She ignored the alarms going off in her head and poured coffee into a mug for Griff, refilled her own, and took them both out to the porch. She sat down on the top step and motioned for him to join her.
    “I appreciate the hospitality.” He sipped his coffee. “Not what I expected after last night.”
    Last night . She was still trying to decide if she had imagined it or not. Had he said he loved her or had she imagined it? Was the unbelievable story he told true? From beneath her lashes, she stole an all-encompassing look at him. His jeans and T-shirt hugged his body like a second skin. As he sat down, muscles flexed smooth and effortless beneath the fabric. When she got to the bulge in his crotch, her gaze slithered away.
    Don’t go there.
    The aviator shades were in place again, making his eyes unreadable. Cassie wished hers were, too. When he turned her face toward him, she was afraid of what he would see there.
    “We still have a long way to go, sugar,” he said, in his deep, liquid voice, “and I’m not rushing things. But I’m taking advantage of every minute you’re here. Be warned.”
    She didn’t know what to say to that. She was torn between wanting to run and wanting to throw her arms around him and bury herself against him.
    “So,” he said, changing the subject. “How’s it been going? Anyone giving you a hard time?”
    She shook her head. “Not unless you count the fact that you can’t get anything done until next year around here. I forgot this place operates on Stoneham time.”
    He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, yes. Nobody hurries for anything around here. What’s on your plate that you’re so anxious to get finished with?”
    She ticked off her items for him. “Cleaning out the house, listing the house, probating the will, having the funeral service, all that stuff. Neil McLeod’s handling the legal work, but he doesn’t seem in any bigger hurry to get stuff done than anyone else.”
    “Get used to it, Cassie. You’ve been away too long. Nothing’s changed.”
    Except my life. “By the way. Who would I call as a locksmith to bribe for some Saturday work?”
    “You have to be kidding.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s so