The smaller “guy” wasn’t a guy after all, but Liberty. And her opponent was big Joe. The man was actually limping as they walked off the mat.

Devin knew why Garrett had suggested a tour—to show him Liberty in action.

“Never underestimate her,” Garrett said softly.

He didn’t respond. He watched Liberty and Joe peel off their protective gear as they continued their conversation—an intense and intimate one, if the familiar way Joe touched her cheek was any indication. When she smiled at Joe, her face full of joy and her eyes shining, it didn’t matter that she was soaked in sweat or what she wore; Liberty Masterson was the most compelling woman he’d ever seen.

Not attracted to her at all? Bullshit. Maybe that’s your problem. You are attracted to her and she’s not your usual type.

The next four months in close quarters with this woman just got a whole lot more complicated.

Chapter Four

Sparring with Joe hadn’t taken the edge off. Liberty still wanted to beat the shit out of someone, namely one smarmy-ass country singer.

Because I am not attracted to her in the least.

Motherfucking son of a bitch, that stung.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. Usually she blew it off, but this time it weighed on her and she didn’t know why it stung so much.

Maybe because he’s one of the sexiest men you’ve ever met.

No lie there. The man had it going on. Lanky—but a holy-shit well-built lanky. Broad chest, equally broad shoulders, muscular arms beneath his tight long-sleeved T-shirt. His face hit the perfect mark between rugged and pretty. His hair had to be ten different shades from pale blond to a rich, dark brown. Neither the color nor the riot of curls that made all those hues stand out had come from a bottle, and damn if those sexy, loose curls didn’t just beg for a woman’s fingers to get tangled up in them. That million-dollar smile of his was way more potent in person than on the pages of a magazine—not that the man had bestowed that infamous grin on her. But even when he had smiled at Garrett, it hadn’t reached his piercing turquoise blue eyes. The constant wariness in them didn’t bother her; in fact, it would make her job easier. Better to have a cautious client than a cocky one.

Liberty climbed into her car and dropped her head back, closing her eyes. Even the new-car scent of her pride and joy—a baby blue Mustang—didn’t settle her like it normally did. She ran her hands over the steering wheel as her mind raced.

How was she supposed to completely make herself over into a simpering, insipid, scantily clad groupie in three days? It’d take two weeks to get an appointment with a brain surgeon to suck half her brain out. She snorted. Few besides herself appreciated her sense of humor.

She didn’t know where to start in assembling a new wardrobe. There’d been an adjustment period after she retired from the army, transitioning from wearing the required uniform to choosing civilian clothes. Comfort, not fashion, was her priority. So, yeah, she could admit her clothing was boring. She had two styles: not work clothes and work clothes. Her not work clothes consisted of ratty sweats and baggy T-shirts, worn jeans, long john tops and camo shorts. Her work style wasn’t any better. She owned one sundress, which she’d bought on a whim. Her official work wardrobe was black, black and gray. Black pants, black jackets, sturdy black shoes. But she’d mixed it up and bought suits in navy blue and dark brown. The good thing was, it didn’t take her long to get ready in the morning.

Times like this she wished her sister Harper lived closer. Although Muddy Gap was a lot closer to Denver than Fort Bragg, where Liberty had been stationed for years. She glanced at the clock. Noon. Probably Harper was doing ten thousand things at once, but she called her anyway.

As always, Harper’s breathy sex-phone-operator voice was ruined by little boys’ shrieks in the background. “Hey, sista. I was just thinking about you.”

“I assume you’re at home?”

Harper laughed. “How could you tell? Jake, get down. No, Tate. He doesn’t need your help.”

Liberty grinned. Those two little boys were a handful. But they were sweet as well as wild, and she loved them with a fierceness that surprised even her. “How are my darling nephews?”

“Needing a nap. Or maybe just Mama is. I’m fixing lunch before I pass them off to Bran for the afternoon. I’m heading in to the store. What’s going on in your life?”

“I need your help,” Liberty blurted. “Like really need it to the point I’m about to have a damn panic attack.”

“Hang on a sec. Bran just walked in.”

Liberty heard, “Hey, hot mama,” and imagined Bran kissing Harper’s neck, like he did whenever they’d been apart for more than five minutes. They were so crazy in love it’d be sickening if not for the fact they shared that love with everyone around them. From the instant Bran had married Harper, the gruff rancher had considered Liberty as much his sister as Harper’s. He’d been such a pillar of strength for both her and Harper in the months during Liberty’s recovery and after leaving the military.

So she couldn’t be jealous of her sister’s good fortune; Harper deserved the happiness she’d found with Bran. Still, Liberty secretly believed that type of forever, soul-mate love was a fluke.

“Heya, sis. Come visit us soon. The boys miss you,” Bran said into the phone. Then the sounds of background noise faded.

“Okay, now tell me why I’m getting a panicked call from you,” Harper said with concern. “You’re never panicked.”