in Wheaton who was concerned that her neighbor’s tree was hanging too far into the street and needed to be trimmed.
She’d left three more messages while he drove back to town. After assuring her that someone would take care of the problem and soothing the tree-owning neighbor, he’d zipped over to the Wheaton dealership for a few hours. His payroll guy had botched the data entry and somehow deleted everyone’s hours. Fortunately, Noah kept a backup since this wasn’t the first time it had happened. He should probably let the man go, but he had a young family and he was trying hard. Maybe he could find a different role for him, one where Noah wouldn’t have to put in extra hours of work every week.
And then he’d had to attend the weekly council meeting, where the mic had been hijacked by an overly confident Pete Peters wanting to resubmit a request for rezoning. Really, was it any wonder Noah wanted to shut his eyes and let the day end?
As he pulled down the side road that led to the house, he wondered if Sabrina would be around. He’d read her article on Pete before all hell had broken loose. Balanced and fair, it had made the man look a lot nicer than he was. Noah had waffled long enough. If Sabrina was around, he’d tell her tonight that he wanted to do the interview.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he thought of seeing her. She’d made herself at home the past week, setting out huge pots of flowers and a pair of Adirondack chairs on the porch. He often heard her singing along to the local country station at the top of her lungs. Her dad hadn’t been lying about that, but neither had she. She was always on key.
When he turned into the driveway, he spotted her on the porch on her hands and knees scrubbing at something. He enjoyed the sight of her butt as he rolled by. He was tired, not dead.
He parked by the detached garage and left the windows open to cool the vehicle. It had been a hot day and the interior had retained a lot of the warmth. As he walked toward the house he felt a little more of the tiredness in his bones float away. There was something to be said for being greeted by a great pair of legs and a fine ass.
When Sabrina turned to greet him, Noah nearly stopped dead in his tracks. Clad in a thin white T-shirt, a pair of denim cut-offs and red cowboy boots, she was his high school fantasy come to life. Oh, hell.
“Look at this.” She gestured sharply to the porch behind her.
He dragged his eyes away from those boots. The porch was a mess. All those heavy pots she’d dragged to the perfect positions last weekend now lay in shards around her. Piles of dirt were ground into the white planks and the blooms had been crushed, judging from the footprints, by someone wearing sneakers. “What happened?” He looked from the disaster area to her.
Sabrina put her hands on her hips. “That’s what I’d like to know. I know Marissa wasn’t happy to see me back, but what did these flowers do to anyone? They’re innocent.”
All the time she’d spent sprucing up the front wasted by some kids who were bored. “You okay?” He’d heard the thread of tension in her voice, understood it. She was rattled and wound tight, as anyone would be who came home to find their home damaged.
“I’m fine.” But her smile didn’t reach her eyes. There was a dirt smudge near her hairline and another by her knee. The colorful scarf tying back her hair blew in the light breeze.
Noah surveyed the chaos as he walked up the steps to stand beside her. “Were you here when it happened?”
She shook her head. “No. I was getting paint from the hardware store.” She knelt to start cleaning again and Noah felt the tension in his body ease.
He moved to help her, pressing a knee into the step for leverage and lifting what looked like half a pot into his arms. Dirt spilled down his blue golf shirt and gray pants as he carried the pottery to the plastic garbage can she’d dragged to the porch. “When did you find things like this?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes ago.” Sabrina followed behind him and tossed a few pieces of clay pot into the bin. They made a dull thump against the thick plastic. “I’m surprised. I didn’t realize things like this happened here.”
“Teenagers.” He tried to focus on what he was saying and not on the fact that he could see the lace outline of her bra through the soft material of her T-shirt. But when he looked away, his gaze landed on those little shorts instead. As if his imagination needed any help after all that talk about the shower last weekend. “Sometimes they get bored and do stupid things.”
Sabrina smiled again and this time it reached her eyes. “These ones are plenty stupid. They left a note.” She pointed to the porch railing.
Noah walked over and saw a message gouged into the wood. Fuq.
“Charming, isn’t it?” She scooped up a bunch of blooms and dirt. Together, they dumped the last of the mess into the garbage can. Her spicy-sweet scent overpowered the aroma of fresh dirt when she stopped beside him. “You don’t think they’ll come back, do you?”
“No. I don’t.” He was surprised they’d dared to do it in the first place. Most times, any vandalism happened at a construction site left unguarded for the evening. Occasionally on the school or other public building where it would achieve maximum impact. “Are you worried?”
“Of course not.” She scoffed as though the very idea was an insult. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve spent the past nine years living in the heart of Vancouver. A couple of punk vandals are nothing.”
She was quiet for a minute. Noah watched while she swept the piles of dirt off the porch and onto the flowerbeds below with her foot.
“But I’d be happier if it hadn’t happened at all.” She sighed and kicked some more dirt. “Thanks for helping me clean up. If this had happened at my old apartment, my neighbor would have called the landlord to complain.”
“About vandalism?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t like me.”
Noah thought the man was clearly an idiot. He dusted his hands off. “No problem.” Sabrina’s smile could knock a man off his feet if her boots hadn’t already done the job. He cleared his throat. “I’ll get a broom for the rest of this.” A clearer head would be nice, too.
He focused on what he’d need to repair the gouges in the wood—some sandpaper and a coat or two of white paint—and not on the way Sabrina looked in those shorts. And boots.
But his fingers tightened around the handle of the push broom he’d pulled from the shed when he saw Sabrina bent over again. So he said the first thing that popped into his head. “You know, this might have been a message for me.”
“For you?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “The town’s golden son? I highly doubt that.”
Noah wasn’t the town’s golden son, but this wasn’t the time to correct her. He walked up the steps. “If you’re worried about them coming back, you could get a dog.”
“A dog?” She stood up, pushing her hair back.
“Yes.” A big, slavering dog that would keep vandals and bored teenagers away. “For safety.” So that any troublemaker who showed up would get a surprise. A toothy, barky surprise. Actually, it was a pretty good idea for spur-of-the-moment thinking.
But Sabrina shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got city instincts. And you’re probably right, these guys won’t come back.” Her eyes met his. “Besides, I can’t get a dog—I’m not staying. What would I do with a dog when I left?”
Noah nodded. She was right. A dog was a foolish idea. It would be irresponsible for her to get a dog when she knew she wasn’t staying and the dog couldn’t go with her. Maybe he should get a dog. But then he wasn’t home enough to make that a reasonable option, either.
He started sweeping.
“I can do that.” She held her hand out for the broom. “Really, you’ve done more than enough.”
But