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"Adam," Deandre says. "Books look good?"

"Best month on record, so far." Adam goes on to rattle off a bunch of numbers, right off the top of his head. I'm amazed by how smart he is. It's hard to believe that this is the guy who was homeless and hopeless for so much of his youth. Here, he clearly shines.

Deandre nods at the end of his report, then turns to Jax. "Any problems at the mill?"

Jax shakes his head. "Everything's running smoothly. Got the shipment of cedar out this morning." He eyes Cayden, who nods. "So I guess we're all caught up."

"Good." Deandre sighs. "Guess that means the only asshole who's behind right now is me."

I frown. The guys make their protests out loud.

Deandre waves them off. "Nah, it's true. The chairs for that big order we got last month are taking forever."

"You need help?" Cayden asks.

"Might, if they all can spare you. A hand with the staining would help me get caught up."

Jax nods. "Not a problem."

I hear my own voice ring out, long before I've decided to speak. "Anything I can do?"

The place gets real, real quiet.

"I don't know," Deandre says, long and slow. "You got your own tough row to hoe, girlie."

That nickname of his should make me feel small, or insulted, even. But all I get off this big mountain of a man is protectiveness.

I shake my head. "It's okay. I got a lot done at my grandmother's house the past couple of days. I could use a break, honestly."

"I don't want to be putting you out…"

"You wouldn't be. And—I mean. I've been staying at your house. Eating your food. I'd like to contribute."

I'd like to contribute something more than just sex, that is.

My worries from the morning come floating back to me. If I really do start up a relationship with all of these men, that means turning my back on my life. I can't stay up here on Lonely Peak and hold on to my teaching job. I'm disillusioned with my classroom, but I fear losing my independence.

If I had a job here, a purpose…maybe that would help.

"Well, then." Deandre glances at Cayden, then back at me. "I heard you were an artist?"

"Sort of…"

Once upon a time, art was my passion. I got bogged down with my career, though, and Richard discouraged me pursuing my 'little hobby'. I let set my easels and canvases on the back burner, and then never found the inspiration to take them off. "Sort of. I'd like to be again. I mean, if I had time."

"Got any experience with woodworking?"

"Not much, other than woodblock prints. So I guess I can do a little carving."

Cayden shakes his head. "She's downplaying things. You should see her stuff. It's amazing."

"I don't doubt it," Deandre says. "If you can carve, I can teach you anything else you'd need to know. You really want it, I can find some work for you."

"I want it."

Suddenly, just like that, I do. I really, really do.

Deandre's dark eyes sparkle wickedly, like we're talking about way more than just carpentry and art.