Free Montana Actually by Fiona Lowe Page A

about asking him to fit two doors. A rat who wanted something from her.
    She slapped a hand onto her hip and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You have no clue how to fix any of those things on your list, do you?”
    He had the grace to look sheepish for half a second before his eyes twinkled at her and his full lips twitched upward. “But I’m a hell of a good doctor.”
    Tingles tangoed in her just like the last time his eyes had done that sparkly thing. She stomped on them hard, wondering how he’d got to thirty-something with a total lack of basic practical skills. “How have you gotten through life without ever hanging a painting?”
    He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I lived in college, then student housing where we could only afford posters. When I graduated, I moved into apartments where I paid to have someone from maintenance come do whatever I needed.”
    “Didn’t you learn stuff when you spent time out in the garage with your father?”
    His cheeks tightened for a moment. “My father wasn’t that sort of a dad.” He leaned forward and smiled again, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can you help me out and do all that stuff for me? I’ll pay for your time.”
    Pay me?
Money wasn’t the issue. Trying to think, she closed the door, checking it latched properly, and then she opened it again, testing the swing. She really didn’t want to be coming out to the cottage to be his Ms. Fixit, because every time she was called out, she’d risk running into him. No, that was so far from being a good idea that she lodged it firmly under the category of disaster.
    Think.
    An idea hit.
No. So not going there
. But although every part of her tried to reject it outright, no matter how hard she tried to think of other ways around it or to come up with another idea, she kept drawing blanks.
    A plan always has a difficult part.
    And this was definitely going to be difficult, but it would be worth it in the end. It had to be. Taking in a deep breath, she said, “I can teach you to fish.”
    —
    JOSH stared at Katrina, convinced he must have misheard. Ever since he’d come home and found her in his living room wearing those ragged cutoff shorts and that damn tool belt, his concentration had been all miss and no hit. It had totally disappeared when she’d fallen against him on the couch—all lush and soft, and full of sweet, seductive curves he’d longed to explore. He’d almost kissed her and he despised himself for that. Hell, he prided himself on being a man with self-control. He’d managed to be faithful to Ashley for five years no matter the temptations that had presented themselves. And there’d been more than a few everywhere he worked, especially from the medical and nursing students.
    So if he could resist twenty-two-year-olds, surely he could resist Katrina. Still, he gave thanks that the screwdriver handle had jabbed him in the stomach exactly when it had, saving him from making an idiotic mistake and a total fool of himself. Why would he want to kiss a woman he didn’t even like? She was difficult, at times self-righteous, and she had a way of looking at him that made him question his actions. He really hated that.
    He also hated feeling this out of control. He blamed that tool belt. He had no clue why that piece of leather strung around her waist turned him on so much. And those tortoiseshell glasses she was wearing today. Damn, but they made her look sexy. He’d wanted to take them off her, pull the elastic out of her hair and—
    Shit.
Just thinking about it kicked his heart rate up again. He was intimate with his sexual triggers and they’d been the same for as long as he could remember—sexy lingerie, tight little black dresses, pencil-straight skirts and fitted jackets. Corporate wear. The clothes Ashley wore.
    Katrina didn’t wear clothes like that. No one in Bear Paw did, and yet here he was getting hard without a single trigger in sight.
Nothing
in this town was