Had she only imagined it?

“I didn’t think twenty-four hours would make any difference to you,” he said. Tossing the shovel aside, he grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow and lifted. Muscles strained. Tendons corded.

Taylor tore her gaze away. “I needed this last day before the hell of the next three months of construction and renovation. You’ve ruined it.”

He swiped a forearm across his forehead, looking tired, sweaty and temperamental. “I think that phone call ruined it.”

Deep within her, a pesky lone hormone quivered. “I’d really like you to go and come back tomorrow.”

That got his attention. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“You need to be alone bad enough to disrupt the start of your own renovation?”

“I do, yes.”

“Fine.” Dropping the wheelbarrow, he propped his hands on his hips. “Have your way, Princess. Tomorrow it is, but don’t even think about pulling this again. I’m not going to postpone this job further, no matter what kind of day you’re having.”

Princess? Had he just called her Princess? She’d show him princess! Reaching up, she yanked off her wide-brimmed hat, which once upon a time had cost her-make that her grandfather-a bundle. She’d die before explaining that her fair skin required she protect it from the harsh summer sun, especially since he seemed like a man to mock such a weakness. “Tomorrow will be just fine,” she said through her teeth, hat in her fist.

Mac stretched his shoulders, which put a strain on his T-shirt, not that she was noticing, and rubbed his eyes. “Good. I’m outta here. But since I am, and since steam is still coming out your ears, why don’t you do both of us a favor.” Retrieving the sledgehammer, he held it out. “Start pounding walls. Consider it anger management.”

She stared down at the tool, having never in her life so much as lifted a screwdriver. She might have blamed her uptight, pretentious family for that, though she’d been on her own for awhile now, and could have made the effort to learn such things.