“Paint Nazi and philosopher. You’re a man of many talents.” Jo paused and tilted back her beer.

“Are we going to talk or get this shit finished?”

“Someone is sensitive,” Luke said.

“Just keep painting.”

The hour rounded on two before they lowered the last brush and surveyed their work.

“Wow.”

“It’s awesome.” Josie wore a huge grin.

“I can’t believe how big this place feels now,” Luke said.

“The last time it was painted was before we banned smoking in here. I guess I should have painted sooner.” The fresh paint, even in a soft beige color, lightened up the room.

“It’s a bar, Josie. No one really cared.”

“We’ll see about that when people come in tomorrow night.” Josie did a full turn and took in the room. “The floors could use an upgrade.”

Wyatt groaned.

“If you don’t want the job, I can find someone else.”

“Bite your tongue.” Wyatt drew in a full breath and met Melanie’s eyes. “See why my house never gets done?”

“Well I’m shot. C’mon, Jo . . . you can give me a ride home,” Luke offered.

“The brushes need to be cleaned,” Wyatt said.

“And you can clean them. My head is killing me.”

“And I have to work in the morning,” Jo said.

Melanie stayed back while the others prepared to leave. “I’ll help.”

“There is a faucet out back,” Josie told them. “I’ll turn a light on.”

After Jo and Luke drove off, Josie stayed inside and cleaned up.

A few bugs buzzed around them as they started pulling paint from the brushes. “Don’t they make these in a disposable variety?”

“The cheap ones. I don’t like them.”

“A perfectionist.”

“I’m nowhere close to perfect,” he said.

Water-coated paint ran from her hand to the ground, where it splattered on her bare legs. Wearing an old pair of shorts to paint in had been a great idea considering how much of the stuff she managed to accumulate on her skin.

“Imperfect house . . . I heard.”

He grumbled.

“Why did Luke talking about your house bother you so much?”

He ran his hands through the brush with more vigor. “I don’t know.”

She knelt closer to the ground to keep the splatter to a minimum. “Yes you do. Out with it.”

“You’re bossy.”

“Says the paint Nazi.”

“Humph!”

“So why?”

Wyatt was quiet for a minute. “Letting a woman discover my faults isn’t the best way to impress her.”

The comfortable warmth that Wyatt always managed to put in her belly snuck inside again.

“A woman?”

He glanced at her. “You.”

She knew that, but enjoyed the unease vocalizing it gave him. He’d been so confident since they met; it was nice to know he was knocked back a little with her presence.

“You think I’d be less interested if I learned your house isn’t a castle?”

He shrugged.

“Oh, my God, you do.”

He stayed quiet.

“Wyatt?”

“Yeah, I . . .” He ran the back of his hand along the side of his face before leveling his gaze on her.

Melanie stood slowly and brushed her thumb along the smudge of paint he’d left on his forehead. “I’m already impressed. Your house isn’t going to change that.”

He captured her hand and pressed it into his cheek before kissing her palm.

She melted. His soft smile and tiny insecurity empowered something inside her and made her want him all the more. Melanie dropped her paintbrush and pressed her lips to his.

She heard his brush hit the ground and felt his hand reach around her waist to pull her close.

He warmed the chill the outside brought to her skin and deepened their kiss. The familiar swipe of his tongue against her lips had her opening. He tasted like hops and barley and felt like home.

As her eyes closed and he tilted her head back, she knew this night was going to end in satisfaction instead of frustration.

Melanie ran a hand down his hips and pressed as close as she could.

Wyatt moaned and pulled away. “You’re killing me.”

She giggled and lifted her knee to run against his leg. “You dropped your paintbrush.”

“Fuck the paintbrush.”

His lips found hers again with hot, impatient kisses. Wyatt lifted her offered leg and wrapped it around his waist as he backed her up against the back of Josie’s bar. His hips pushed against her, the heat and friction of him made her stomach spasm. Made her want.

Wyatt pulled away, then changed his mind and returned with a force that made her breath catch in the back of her throat.

He held her against the wall, his hands rounded on her ass, kept her pinned, and seemed content to kiss her until she wept for air. Only her body wanted more than air, she wanted more.

It was her turn to pull away. “Take me to your castle, Wyatt.”

He hesitated, his lips hovering over hers, his breath short and hot. “What about the inn?”

She shook her head. “One guest. Miss Gina said . . .” Melanie didn’t elaborate. “It’s fine.”

He kissed her again, sucked her lip between his teeth and gave a tiny bite. “You’re sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

His eyes grew wide, his grin even wider before he released her and wrapped his fingers around hers. Wyatt started toward his truck, then detoured to the back door of the bar. He poked his head inside and yelled. “We’ll be back in the morning, Josie.”