Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

whether he was peeved about her intruding into his private world or bashful about her seeing his work.
    But why hide it? The man was an artist.
    “Where do you sell it all?” she asked.
    “Mostly on the Internet. In the summertime, I set up at the weekly farmers’ market on the square.” He swiped at the sawdust on his sweatshirt. “I returned the U-Haul. You come for the firewood contacts?”
    “I brought you cookies,” she said. “I didn’t know you were home, so I left them on your swing.”
    “The crew on my construction site had to leave early.” He cocked his head to the side. “Cookies?”
    “To thank you,” she said. “And to bribe you for another favor.”
    “What’s that?”
    “You think you could look at my pilot light? It’s off and I couldn’t get it going. The heat’s not working and the water’s ice-cold. I nearly froze to death in the shower this morning.”
    The corner of his lip lifted in a half grin and for the first time she noticed that he was handsome. Not Brad Pitt handsome, but nice looking with a chiseled nose, straight white teeth, and eyes the color of caramel. All the facial hair made it difficult to know what the rest of his face looked like. Or his age. But he was in good shape—tall, broad, and muscular—leading Harlee to believe he couldn’t be too old.
    “Yeah, okay,” he said.
    He opened the door on the cast-iron stove, snuffed out the fire, and they walked back to her cabin. She led him inside the garage, where the hot-water heater was strapped to the wall in a corner. He crouched down to get closer to the switch and pulled his sleeves up. That’s when she noticed his tattoo. Five black dots arranged in a quincunx on his forearm. Harlee had seen plenty of body art, but the geometric pattern was so stark and simple that it piqued her curiosity.
    She was just about to ask him the significance of the tattoo, when he caught her looking at it and abruptly pulled his sleeve down.
    “Could you hand me the flashlight and the matches, please?” She’d found both in the garage earlier when she’d tried to light the pilot herself, and handed them to him.
    Colin continued to fiddle at the base of the hot-water heater. “Hmm. It’s not working,” he said, and stood up. “You said the heat’s giving you trouble? Where’s the furnace?”
    She showed him, and he fidgeted with the heater for a while. “Brad didn’t say that I had to light both,” Harlee said.
    “Yep,” he grunted. “Where’s your propane tank?”
    She took him outside to the front of the house, where the tank sat in a small enclosure, hidden on three sides by lattice fencing.
    “You got a bucket I can fill with water?”
    She didn’t bother to ask why. “I’ll find one.”
    Harlee came back shortly, hefting a mop pail full of water.
    He grabbed it from her and poured it over the tank. “You’re out of propane.”
    “How can you tell?” she asked.
    “See that frost line?” He pointed to the lower part of the tank. “It’s less than a quarter full.”
    “Crap! The Nugget Propane Company is closed for the next four days. The sign says the owner went fishing. Maybe I can find him and get him to open for just one tank.”
    Colin lifted his brows. “How do you plan to do that?”
    “I don’t know. But I’m a reporter. I’m good at finding people.”
    “A reporter?” he asked, slanting her a glance. “Like on television?” Clearly he was trying to remember if he’d ever seen her on CNN.
    “No. Newspaper. The San Francisco Call . But not anymore.” Man, it hurt to say that. She waited for him to ask the obvious question, but he didn’t. Thank God. “Is there any other place around here I can get propane?”
    “Reno,” Colin said. “But they won’t deliver to California on a day’s notice.”
    “I’ll go there and haul it myself.”
    “In that?” He nudged his head at her Mini Cooper in the driveway and choked on a laugh. “No one lugs around a five-hundred-gallon tank