is moving in next door to you.”
“Hello, Ruth.” Kirby tucked the cordless phone against her shoulder and spotted the scissors in the back of the drawer. “I’ve already met Sam.”
“What did you think?”
Was that excitement in Ruth’s voice? “I think he’s, uh, well, it was interesting to meet him.”
“Oh, my.” The excitement faded into distress. “He wasn’t rude to you, was he? He comes across rather rough sometimes. He’s had a hard life, the poor man.”
She knew Ruth was dying to tell her, but Kirby wasn’t about to ask. It wasn’t her business and she didn’t listen to gossip. She didn’t want to know Sam’s hardships.
That wasn’t true. She was curious. What was the real scoop on that man?
Instead she said, “Sam told me he’s repairing the house for you, too.”
“That’s right—he’s a real hard worker. He’ll do a fine job. I know the kind of first impression he gives, but I promise you he’ll make a fine neighbor. My Sam’s dependable, strong, hardworking and honest. Why, he’s as good as the day is long, and the stories I could tell about him…”
What stories? Kirby wondered, but it wasn’t any of her business. Really. “I’m happy he’ll make a quiet and responsible neighbor. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine, now that my nephew has moved to town to help me out.”
Kirby jabbed the pointed tip of the scissors into the shrink-wrap. The plastic stuff gave way. Finally. “I suppose this means I’ll be seeing more of you, since you’ll be coming to visit Sam.”
“Yes. He’s a great cook. Did you know that?”
“No.” It was sweet, how much Ruth loved her nephew. “You’re proud of him, I can tell. It must mean the world to have him living close.”
“I’ll say! He’s been away, traveling the globe since he graduated from high school, but we’ve kept in touch over the years. I wrote him faithfully every week. And now here he is, taking care of so many troubles for me.”
Sam did look as though he could solve any problem. After she hung up, Kirby rose on her tiptoes and could see him perfectly through her kitchen window. He was in his backyard tossing a huge orange plastic bone. His enormous black dog leaped like a puppy, knocking into shrubs and bounding over flowers as he raced after his toy. Leo loped back with the bone lodged in his powerful jaws and dropped it onto Sam’s waiting hand.
It wasn’t the dog she noticed, but the man. How he rubbed his dog’s head with a strong but kind touch. Sam looked different. With his guard down, he almost appeared good-hearted. As strong as steel, as powerful as a midnight storm, but benevolent.
He’s dependable, strong, hardworking and honest. Those were a few more of her requirements, right there. Kirby wanted a husband she could respect and look up to. Not that Sam Gardner was that man.
What else had Ruth said about him? He’s had a hard life.
What happened to him? Kirby wondered.
“This is the last one.” His distant rumble rose on the breeze blowing through the open window. “One more throw, then we’ve got to fix the fence. Can’t have you running loose, you big menace. It’s bad manners to accost pretty ladies.”
The menace barked in happy agreement, hopping and leaping in anticipation, his attention on the enormous plastic bone. Sam’s laughter and the warm vibration of his voice lifted and fell according to the wind’s whim. There was something vulnerable in him, this big strong man, playing with his dog.
A hard life, huh? She wondered about that as she watched him kneel to rub Leo’s ruff. Then he disappeared into the house, the dog shadowing him.
When Sam appeared again, he was wearing his tool belt and hauling a small bucket that rattled when he came around to her side gate.
“Hey, I’m about to trespass,” he called from below the window.
She was out of his line of sight, and he hadn’t looked over at her once. How did he know where she was? Did he know she’d been watching him?
“I’m surprised you’re using the gate. I thought you might just climb over the fence instead.”
“I would, but I don’t want to set a bad example for Leo. Hey, hello there, pup.”
Her spaniel’s bark rose in a happy greeting as Kirby hit the switch on the iced tea maker.
“That’s some watchdog you got there,” he called through the screen door. “What does she do? Invite burglars into the yard?”
“Only once, and he wasn’t a burglar.” Kirby stared at him hard.
“Hey, insult me and I won’t fix the fence.”
“My dog isn’t the one getting out.” She pushed open the screen door to join him on the back deck. “I almost have your tea ready. It’s brewing right now.”
“Brewing? You don’t use the mix?”
“From a can? Don’t insult me. When I promised you tea, I meant the real thing.” She led the way to the back of the property, where a few boards leaned against the fence beneath the shade of a giant maple.
“The real thing? I don’t know.” He hefted the awkward boards as if they weighed nothing at all. “I think that’s too wholesome for me. I need the fake stuff with all the chemicals and artificial flavors, or I could go into shock. Then who’d fix your fence?”
“I’m a nurse practitioner. I’d save your life.”
“Great. You’d revive me so I could go back to work.”
“I’d revive you because I took an oath. And because you’re my new quiet neighbor. The one who won’t play loud music at night.”
“Are you hinting at something?” Acting as if puzzled, he hauled the hammer from his battered leather tool belt. “I’ll have to remind my fellow biker gang members to keep it down when we gather at midnight to shoot off our illegal firearms.”
Oh, he thought he was funny when he was no such thing. The tea was probably ready, so she headed back to the house. “Can I get you anything? I have cookies.”
“Cookies are too sweet for me. They might ruin my sour disposition.”
“How about a lemon?”
The little spaniel skipped after her, clearly in love with her owner and, to Sam’s shock, Leo took after Kirby, too, his tongue lolling, his gait snappy, that sappy loving look in his big eyes.
“Hey, get back here!” he commanded, and the dog gave him a sad expression. It was an embarrassment, that’s what. “Oh, don’t complain. Come here.”
He didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Kirby was nice and seemed lovely, but she was a woman. Like half the people on the planet.
He shoved a bunch of climbing rose canes aside. Yep, she was a woman. Flowers and tidy weeded flower beds and those little figurine things stuck here and there. A birdbath and stepping stones with designs on them.
He was glad he was in charge of his own destiny. Being alone was a good thing. He didn’t need anyone and he didn’t need ceramic stepping stones.
As he dug through his bucket for the right size of galvanized nails, he heard her phone ring inside the house. He could see her kitchen through the big back window. Tidy and cozy and as ruffly and bright as a magazine cover.
It looked homey. There she was, leaning against the white counter, the phone tucked against her shoulder, talking while she poured sparkling tea into a tall glass.
She sure made a pretty picture. His chest ached with the power of it. He supposed it was the image she made, standing