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  “She also thinks she’s funny.” Griffin smiled at Lyndie, and the slight wickedness in it made her nervous. “She neglected to tell me the creek wasn’t the only moving water here.”

  Rosa lifted her brow so high it vanished into her hair. “Most interesting.”

  “I think so.” He shoveled in some more food, clearly savoring every bite.

  If he moaned again, Lyndie figured she’d groan right back. “Oh, for God’s sake, I was just teasing you.” She lifted her chin to add authority to the claim. “And before I knew it, you’d taken off all your clothes. Far be it from me to stop you.”

  “Far be it,” he said dryly.

  “You…teased him.” Rosa clearly found this fascinating.

  “I do have a sense of humor, you know.”

  “Uh huh.” Rosa put her tongue in her cheek. “Of course you do.”

  Lyndie drew in a deep, irritated breath and ate some more.

  “I’ve got your rooms all ready,” Rosa said. “Oh, and as for redoing that upstairs bathroom this summer—”

  “Your plans are your plans,” Lyndie said.

  “But I wanted to go over—”

  “You’re in charge, Rosa.” She tried to add a “not now” look to her words. “You don’t need me.”

  Rosa frowned. “You bump your head? What do you mean my plans are my plans, this is your—”

  “Rosa. Pantry. Now.” Brushing off her hands, Lyndie got up and headed into the pantry ahead of her, and directly to the second refrigerator there, where she knew she’d left—Ah, yes, there was a God. The six-pack of beer with her name on it was still there. She grabbed one, turned around, and ran smack into Rosa.

  “What is with you?” Rosa demanded. “You forget to take your vitamin B?”

  “I—”

  “Listen, querida, I just try to tell you, you have paying guests tonight. They’re already in for the night. I gave the man room one, and the couple room two.”

  “Okay.” Paying customers were good.

  Rosa still had her hands on her hips. “So why you not want Griffin to know you own this place? That you keep us all together out of the goodness of your heart, that you have a soft spot for San Puebla?”

  “I keep you here to keep you out of my hair.” Lyndie took a long pull of the beer.

  “No, you have soft spot.”

  “Yeah. For your food.”

  Rosa laughed and hugged her. “Estas llena de caca.”

  Lyndie endured the physical affection—along with Rosa’s telling her she was full of shit—with an eye roll. “I just don’t need to spout out all my personal business for just anyone, that’s all.”

  “He is not just anyone. He is helping, he is a hero. You don’t want him to know you have a soft spot, for my food or otherwise. Admit it.”

  “Lyndie Anderson has no soft spots.”

  Rosa crossed her arms, the universal stance for irked mother figure. “Do you know what I think?”

  “If I say yes, will you stop talking?”

  “I think you just will not admit that this is home.” Rosa’s smile was warm, and smug. “You know what I know about you?”

  “Christ, another question. That you drive me crazy?”

  “That you’re always the nastiest to those you care about.” Rosa patted her cheek. “It is an especially lovable trait of yours.”

  Lyndie glanced out into the kitchen. Griffin was still eating as if he hadn’t been fed in a week. “If you’re talking about the bath in the creek,” she said, watching him enjoying his food, “he had it coming.”

  “You care about him.”

  “Sure. He’s going to help stop the fire.”

  “You care about him as a man.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve only known him one day.”

  “A day, a year, it does not matter when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  “Rosa.” Lyndie laughed. “Maybe we should switch back to Spanish, your English is starting to fail you.” Grabbing a second beer, she walked back into the kitchen and plopped the bottle down in front of Griffin, who looked up at her warily.

  “It’s not poisoned,” she promised, then smiled. “In fact, consider it a peace offering. You know, for the whole creek thing.”

  He took a long pull of the beer, then slowly shook his head in regret. “I don’t think so.”

  For some reason, the silky words caused her belly to quiver. “You don’t think so what?”

  Tipping his head back, he took another long drink, then set the beer down and licked his lower lip.

  Another odd quiver.

  “We’re not even,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

  Oh, boy. “You know what? I’m tired. I’m going to bed. If you want an escort to your room, she’s leaving now.”

  He laughed and got up. “So pleasant and agreeable. So positively sweet.”

  “Didn’t tell you? Sweet is my middle name.” She led him back down the arched hallway, through the open reception area, to another hallway, down which there were five rooms that Rosa rented out as often as she could, which it turned out wasn’t that often way out here.

  But tonight the first two were taken. Beyond that on the right was the one communal bathroom. And then the last three bedrooms. One for Rosa, one for herself, and one for Griffin.

  She stopped in front of the bathroom, pushed open the door. Watched him as he registered the perfectly in-order shower.

  He didn’t say a word, just slowly craned his neck and looked at her.

  As he did, an unusual sound came from behind the second bedroom door behind them. An undeniable moan, low and rough and sensual. Eyes wide, they both turned and looked at the closed door, just as another soft, pleasure-filled feminine cry filled the air.

  And then the answering male groan.

  “You know what else this place has besides a communal bathroom with a perfectly operational shower?” Griffin asked softly. He leaned toward her, and when he spoke, his lips brushed the sensitive patch of skin just beneath her ear, making her shiver. “Thin walls.”

  “Dios mio!” the woman cried out. “Otra vez…”

  Again, she was begging. Oh, God. Lyndie stared at the wood, images floating in her mind, and she didn’t know what to do. For once she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at Griffin, wondering what could possibly be going on in his head.

  His eyes were dark, and the look he gave her seared the hair right off her arms, tweaking the hot spots in her body yet again, a good many of which she’d forgotten she even had.

  Until today anyway.

  “It’s funny how just a sound can make you ache,” Griffin said silkily, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Oh, man, am I waaaay out of my league. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He lifted a brow. “Is that right?” He stepped close. Too close. He was in her space. “I feel a challenge to prove just how a sound can make you ache.”

  “N-no need.”

  “Want to try me?” he asked very softly.

  “Well, I—”

  His mouth came down on hers, cutting off her words, her thoughts. He kissed her for a long, long moment before lifting his head. Now his lips were just a whisper from hers, close but not touching, and she stared at them, willing him to do it again. Needing him to do it again.

  When he didn’t she grabbed his shirt and closed the gap, doing it herself, opening her mouth to his, and suddenly the twin moans from behind the closed door weren’t the only ones in the inn.

  When they broke apart this time, she staggered back a step, staring into Griffin’s slumberous eyes as she let out a shaky laugh. It was that or beg, and she never begged. “I’m still dirty, Ace.”

  “You wouldn’t be, if you’d joined me in the creek.”

  “Your room is the last on the left.”

  “Is that good night, then?”

  Just beneath the casual banter was something far too real to play with, and she knew he knew it, too. “Yes,” she whispe