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asked him for it. That sent a rush of righteous indignationright up her spine, anger hot on its heels.
    Part of her was tempted to ignore his pushy ass. Pretend she wasn’t here. But knowing him, he’d break the damn door down. So instead, she gathered up that anger into a nice, spinning ball in her gut and stalked toward the door.
    He banged on it again before she could reach it, so when she swung the door open, his fist was still hovering in the air. He blinked as if surprised she’d actually appeared, and then blatant relief descended over his features. “Thank Christ.”
    Her jaw clenched, and she had to force it to relax to speak. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    His gaze skated over her, a deep line appearing between his brows as he ignored her question. “Shit, Sam, you look . . . baby.”
    She had a good idea what she looked like. She was sweaty, covered with wood dust, and between the attack last night and all the crying, her face probably looked like she’d been hit with a wet bag of rocks. Goddammit. This was the last thing she needed Gibson to see. And the fact that he’d forced her into letting him see her like this pissed her off even more. “Don’t you dare call me
baby
or look at me like that. You’re not supposed to be here. I didn’t invite you.”
    His blue eyes flicked upward, rigid determination there. “You don’t need to be alone right now. And you damn well shouldn’t be alone out here in the middle of nowhere.” He swung a hand toward the door. “A stiff wind would knock this thing down. What are you thinking?”
    Well, that just punched all her bitch buttons. “Thanks for stopping by. It’s been fun. I’m alive and fine. You can go home now. Buh-bye.”
    She moved to shut the door, but his hand flew out to block it from closing. “Oh, no you don’t. You can be pissed at me all you want. But if you think I’m leaving you out here like this, let me alleviate you of that notion. Not gonna happen, sunshine.”
    Her grip on the door tightened. “What? You gonna drag me out kicking and screaming, Gib? I’ll fucking fight you.”
    A muscle in his jaw ticked and he took a step forward. “You know I’m not going to put my hands on you like that. But you either come willingly or you’re going to be staring at my ugly mug until you do.”
    Ugly mug
was about as far from the truth as possible. Even with dark shadows under his eyes, his hair disheveled from raking fingers, and a wrinkled shirt, he looked like he’d just fallen off the stage of some hot man revue. But she was too ticked off to care about how hot he was. Mostly.
    “Leave, Gib.”
    “Not unless you come with me.” He ducked under the arm she had braced on the door and strode inside.
    “Oh my God.” She spun around, the door swinging shut on its own behind her. “Boundaries, dude. Ever heard of the word?”
    “Yep. Can spell it and everything.” Gib crossed his arms over his chest and peered around, examining the place. His gaze landed on the sander and the stripped floor of the adjoining dining room. “Is this what you’ve been up to?”
    She groaned. He wasn’t going to go away. That much was clear. And she wasn’t going with him. He really would haveto fight her for that. She’d waited too long to take this week off. And she wanted that week spent here. If she could knock out the list of projects she had, she’d be that much closer to having this place livable. “I’m renovating. Despite what ideas you have in that testosteroned brain of yours, I didn’t run out here because I’m freaking out over what happened last night. I had a vacation planned. I’m going to spend the week here—alone. I just left a few hours early. And I’m fine. I come out here all the time. I have a gun. I have Darcy. No serial killers have bothered me yet.”
    “
Yet
. There’s a key word for ya.
Friday the 13th Part Thirty-Five
could be set here.”
    “Gib.”
    “Look, I get that you don’t want me here. But