Read Can't Say No for Free Online

bad. Nothing’s that bad. Don’t you dare get that look in your eyes again.”
    His fingers dropped, as quickly as if he’d never touched her. Startled, Bree let out her breath, but Hart already had his hands jammed loosely in his pockets and was casually looking around the room again. “Guess it’s time I got your groceries,” he said idly. “You want to make out a list, or shall I just buy the obvious basics? How long are you planning to stay here, anyway?”
    After a moment, Bree’s lips formed a careful message: “Look, I don’t want anything. Please just—”
    “Didn’t catch that. What did you say?” Hart waited. “You know,” he said mildly, “I’ve always believed that people will walk all over you if you don’t stand up and shout about what you want in life.”
    He picked up his jacket from the kitchen table, where he had casually draped it earlier. “I’ll be back.”
    He closed the door behind him, but that didn’t stop his arrogant words from ringing in her ears like a promise. Seething with helpless fury, Bree spotted a plate within arm’s reach in the open cupboard. Gram had always hated that set of dishes, had meant to seek out more authentic crockery that would suit the cabin as soon as enough of that set broke or cracked to justify the expense. Gram was practical. At the moment, Bree didn’t feel in the least practical; she felt out-of-control frustrated, and she soon sent one china plate hurtling toward the door, to shatter noisily in a thousand tiny pieces.
    Shock replaced that instant silly feeling of satisfaction. For heaven’s sake, she’d never thrown anything in her life. Of all the childish…
    The door popped open again. A lazy, devilish grin was mounted on Hart’s lips like a trophy. “Tsk, tsk. Who would have guessed you had such a temper?” He added gruffly, “You hold on to that temper until I get back, honey. Anger’s a strong medicine that most people never take advantage of.”
    She didn’t have a temper. And once her nonexistent temper had calmed down, Bree leaned back against the closed cabin door and viewed her dusty domain with dismay. At least Hart was gone, but in the meantime wishes weren’t horses. The place wasn’t going to clean itself.
    Abruptly, she rolled up her sleeves, looped her hair in a rubber band and dug in. Gram always found the energy to banish dust and dirt. She also used to say that determination was worth more than muscle. The past few weeks had been frightening for Bree, discovering how deeply and how long she’d let things just…happen to her. Gram’s death had seemed a last unbearable crisis in a life where she’d taken too many wrong turns. She had to make it right again.
    And the very simplest project, like cleaning, made her feel better from the start.
    Gram’s back-to-nature philosophy had not extended to sheer foolishness. The main part of the cabin was authentic 1830s, but the lean-to contained civilized goodies—an old washing machine, refrigerator, hot-water heater and more to the present purpose, Gram’s cleaning supplies. For starters, Bree plugged in the electrical appliances and took a match to the gas-run water heater. By some miracle, they all worked.
    Once the hot water was pumping into the converted dry sink, she stood on the top of the kitchen table and scrubbed away cobwebs and dust. Using old newspapers, she attacked the windows. She was humming by the time she removed the dustcover from the bed and tossed it in the washer. A blue-and-white tablecloth made for a lively spot of color, as did the bright red rhododendron Bree uprooted from the woods and used as a potted centerpiece.
    The cabin took on sparkle in direct proportion to Bree’s taking on grime. She stopped once, to fill a glass with fresh, cold well water, downing it all in long gulps, and then glanced down at herself with a wry grimace. The cream silk blouse had a rip and several snags, and a stripe of dirt looked painted on one sleeve. The linen