скачать книгу бесплатно
The only source of that rare wood was on the government land behind their property. Was the illegal harvesting of wood they’d done a decade ago still going on?
Hunter lifted the gloves. “Were you planning on taking up boxing?”
“No. That was given to us a few weeks ago. The client couldn’t pay us because he’d hit bottom, financially. I just couldn’t make his life worse.”
“So he gave you a punching bag?”
Shrugging, she returned to her work. Even with her head bent he could see embarrassment stain her cheeks. “He had nothing else.”
“But it can’t pay your bills.”
Conceding, she flicked up a hand. “I can’t take him to court. He’s paying child support. I should try to sell the set.” She peered over at Hunter. “Or you could use it.”
Benton’s firm words on fighting returned to him. “Punching a bag builds up a need to fight. It’s better to learn to manage anger,” he murmured.
“You don’t look like you’ve stayed a pacifist.”
“I won’t fight.” He dropped the boards back over the punching bag and gloves. Hunter knew she’d seen some of his scars, even though he’d worn a T-shirt to bed. If she continued to stare at him now, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Eventually, he turned. “We have everything for the project, except, of course, the bird’s-eye maple.” He stepped in front of the box containing the gloves and bag, hoping she hadn’t paid any attention to it. If she noticed the wood, with its distinctive swirls, she’d start asking questions.
Вы ознакомились с фрагментом книги.
Для бесплатного чтения открыта только часть текста.
Приобретайте полный текст книги у нашего партнера:
