A Cold Creek Secret. RaeAnne Thayne

leaving, too. She told me she’s buying a house outside Jackson Hole and that just seemed the final straw. I can’t even contemplate how daunting it would be to find someone to replace her. Not to mention keeping up with general maintenance like painting the barn.”

      It was entirely too choice an opportunity to pass up. “This is perfect. I’ll help you.”

      Again that eyebrow crept up as he toed off his winter boots. “You want to paint the barn? I’m afraid that might be a little tough, what with the snow and all.”

      She frowned. “Not the barn. But this.” She pointed with her soapy towel. “The whole place needs a good scrubbing, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

      He stared at her. “Let me get this straight. You’re volunteering to clean my house?”

      She set the soapy towel back in the bucket and perched on the top rung of the ladder to face him. “Sure, why not?”

      “I can think of a few pretty compelling reasons.”

      She flashed him a quick look, wondering what he meant by that, but she couldn’t read anything in his expression.

      “The truth is, I need a place to stay for a few days.”

      “Why?”

      “It’s a long, boring story.”

      “Somehow I doubt that,” he murmured, looking fascinated.

      “Trust me,” she said firmly. “I need a place to stay for a few days—let’s just leave it at that—and you could use some work done around here to help you ready the place for prospective buyers.”

      “And you think you can help me do that?”

      The skepticism in his voice stung, for reasons she didn’t want to examine too carefully. “Believe it or not, I’ve actually helped a friend stage houses for sale before and I know a little about it. I can help you, I swear. Why shouldn’t we both get something we need?”

      He leaned against the counter next to the refrigerator and crossed his arms over his chest. As he studied her, she thought she saw doubt, lingering shock and an odd sort of speculation in his eyes.

      After a moment he shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, Ms. Howard.”

      “You didn’t ask. I’m offering.”

      Five days. That was all she needed to avoid Hollywood’s biggest wedding in years. With a little time and distance, she hoped she could figure out what she was going to do with the mess of her life.

      “I really do need a place to stay, Major Western.”

      She thought she saw a softening in the implacable set to his jaw, a tiny waver in his eyes, so she whipped out the big guns. The undefeated, never-fail, invincible option.

      She beamed at him, her full-throttle, pour-on-the-charm smile that had made babbling fools out of every male she’d ever wielded it on. “I swear, you’ll be so happy with the job I do, you might just decide not to sell.”

      Though she saw obvious reluctance in his dark eyes, he finally sighed. “A few days. Why not? As long as you don’t make any major changes. Just clean things out a little and make the rooms look better. That’s all.”

      Relief coursed through her. Simone, sensing Mimi’s excitement, barked happily.

      “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

      He shook his head and reached into the refrigerator for a bottled water. In his open, honest expression, she could see he was already sorry. She didn’t care, she told herself, ignoring that same little sting under her heart. Whether he wanted her here or not, somehow she knew that Major Brant Western was too honorable to kick her out after he’d promised she could stay.