Shaken by Dee Tenorio Page B

were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.
    It’s for his own good.
    He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least slightly less wrecked than herself.
    But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.
    Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?
    Then she heard the bark.
    Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.
    That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not wanting to take any more time than necessary, she dried off with only a ragged pat-down. She was too busy trying to rustle up her temper to acknowledge her terror at being cornered. He had no right to be there uninvited. He had no right coming when he knew she didn’t want him there. He simply had no rights at all.
    She stomped into a pair of coveralls, yanked on a worn pink tank top that had seen enough bleach to make it good for summer work and wrapped a bandana over her wet hair to keep it out of her face. By the time she had her work boots secure, she was fantasizing about introducing him to the steel toe. He probably didn’t hear her rumbling down the steps, but he damn sure heard her when she exited the bay doors to the open yard beyond with her hands on her hips and the fire of hell in her lungs.
    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
    “You don’t want to be pushing my buttons right now, Belle,” he answered in typical growl mode, not bothering to look at her.
    She scoffed, watching him pick up an abandoned sink from the back of the ancient Mazda flatbed she used for junking and take it to a pile of other midsized items. He was in cut-off gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. His T-shirt was off, one end tucked into his back waistband, leaving all that warm honey skin open to her viewing pleasure. Mad or not, it was a pleasure to look at him, especially since he was already slick.
    “You’re in my yard, Lonnigan. I can push any button I damn well please.”
    He ignored her. He actually ignored her. A few pieces of pipe got thrown into the small pipe pile, making the puppy yelp as he hopped to avoid things being lobbed all around. He wasn’t in any danger, but she could tell by his darting eyes and tucked tail, he didn’t know that.
    Against her better judgment, she bit her inwardly cupped lower lip and whistled. “Over here, Sparky, before your daddy kills you.”
    The pup was grateful, running awkwardly on huge paws, but if the suddenly flying wheel rims were any indication, Lucas wasn’t.
    “I didn’t ask you to do this.” Not that she ever did. She had a deal with the local junker to take a truckload of sortables off his hands each month. Lucas always showed up on sort day to load up her truck at the junkyard and unload it in her metal yard. It was just one other thing she’d have to learn to do without him. She hadn’t had the energy to do it since their “date”. Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.
    She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.
    Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”
    “This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he