“I always wanted to work on Steele Ranch,” I say, keeping an eye on her bare fingers as she grips each piece of wood. Every haphazard toss has my muscles tensing. “You should wear gloves. You’re going to get a sliver—” “Fuck!” she shouts while yanking her hand to her chest and then holding it up to her face. Her eyes slide toward me as she adds, “Don’t say a damn word.”
