Libby is set on taming the outback as she takes over Quincy Station, but can she tame her rough neighbor, Nathan's, hardened heart as well?
Nathan Miller rattles Libby's nerves more than she cares to admit. He is the one person that stands between her and the family home that has been left to her. So why then does the man stir her up to such an extent, her body pulses with the need to have him? They do nothing but clash and snap at one another, and he makes no bones about the fact she shouldn't be Quincy's Station's new owner, but back in the city where he thinks she belongs.
Having had an unpleasant clash with a "city girl" once before, Nathan does not think Libby has it in her to stick it out. He refuses to give in to his urges. But when Mother Nature brings chaos to Quincy Station and threatens Libby's children, he'll either be proved right in his assumptions or find his barriers taken down by a stubborn woman and her kids.
The four-wheel drive truck pulled up behind her, and the driver's door opened. She couldn't see the occupant until he stood right in front of her, towering over her in the dim light. He was dressed in dusty work clothes and jeans, which sat snugly on broad hips. A thick cotton work shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows showed off strong, tanned arms. An old, worn hat was pushed down over short hair, hiding his face as he stood looking down at her.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a deep voice that rolled over her, triggering something familiar deep in her brain.
"No, my car overheated, and now it won't start." Libby sighed as she followed him to the front of the vehicle.
He shone a flashlight at the hood and told her to release it. He lifted it and stuck his head beneath. Muttering and cursing drifted back toward her ears. He slammed it back down and turned to her.
"You have a broken radiator hose," the stranger said. "The top one has completely blown, and the bottom one is on its way out. Don't you check your car at all? It's a bloody mess under that hood."
"My car runs fine normally." Libby straightened her spine. LSo much for country charm; Mr. Personality, you aren't. "But thanks for looking at it anyway. I won't hold you up any longer."
"Testy little thing, aren't you?" He pushed his hat back on his head as he came closer to her, his face barely visible in the fading light. "We don't leave women on the side of the road out in this country."
"What are you doing here?" Libby asked as she recognized the lawyer who had made such an impression on her at Aaron's.
"I live here. The question should be what're you doing here?" He sneered before walking away from her.
"I think you know the answer to that question. It's such a shame our first encounter is enough to upset you." Libby kicked at the dirt, knowing her softly spoken words had gone unheard.
At least he's easy on the eyes; pity his attitude isn't as nice.
***
Leaning on the back of his dust-covered truck, Nathan pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and punched in a number. He glanced over at Libby pacing back and forth while he waited for someone to pick up.
He'd known she was due soon, but he didn't expect to meet her out on the highway, broken down.
"Tom, it's Nathan, I'm out on the side of the road at the highway end, just before the turnoff. I think I have something which belongs to you." He grimaced as he looked back toward the women watching him. "You had better bring the truck out. Yeah, sure, I'll wait with her. Don't be too long. She's a little bit fiery. Sure, 'bye."
"So..." he drawled, walking back to stand before Libby. His heart was thumping, and a thin sheen of sweat was making his face heat up as he let his gaze run over her body from her pert nose to her long, bare legs. He noticed the blush on her cheeks while he scrutinized her under the flashlight beam. Damn you, Uncle Aaron. Cute and fiery. Too dangerous out here. If circumstances were different, or even another time and place, he could get attached to this woman—at least, physically. "You're the city chick who's going to take Quincy Station into the black, eh? I wonder if you know what you're taking on, sweetheart?"
"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, mate. It's Libby. Libby Holland, and yes, I am the city chick who's taking over my great-uncle's farm." She glared at him in the torchlight.
"Do you have a problem with that?"
