Читать книгу The Sweetest Gift - Jillian Hart - Страница 11

“Your dog must have found a space in the fence,” she said in that velvety-soft voice of hers. “It was no trouble figuring out who he belonged to.”

She was trying to make conversation. Whether she was just being polite or trying to start a relationship thing, Sam didn’t know. He couldn’t let himself care.

He stared hard at his dog. Leo glowed with happiness. He obviously liked Kirby. That was one check mark in her favor, that she was kind to animals, but he wasn’t going to let it change his resolve.

He stood slowly, careful of his stiff left leg. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good dog. A little energetic.”

“He’s got a lot of puppy in him still.” Sam kept his focus on his dog’s broad head. “Guess I’ll be right over to fix that fence. I’m sorry he jumped into your yard. C’mon, Leo, inside. Now.”

The dog followed him, happily tossing their pretty neighbor his most charming dog grin.

It was embarrassing, that’s what, a tough guard dog with his tongue lolling like that. That kind of affection would lead a guy to heartache. Didn’t the dog know that?

“Leo? That’s his name?”

That was Kirby’s voice, dulcet with amusement, calling him back, making his shoes pivot so that he turned toward her, as if he had no say in it. As if his feet were in charge.

“What’s wrong with the name Leo?”

“Nothing, exactly.”

Leo danced at the tinkling warmth of Kirby’s laughter. Sam had to admit he liked the sound of it, too. Soft, not grating. Gentle, not earsplitting.

“It wasn’t what I expected from a big dangerous-looking dog like that.” She held out one hand and Leo dashed straight for her, gazing adoringly at her while she scratched his chin. “Is he purebred?”

She was captivating. He couldn’t seem to figure out a way to answer. He was a big tough guy. He knew how to speak. What was wrong with him?

You’re in trouble, man. His game plan was going to be blown to bits if he didn’t thank her and exit stage left. All he had to do was haul Leo through that door, close it, and he’d be safe. Unattached. Distant.

But did he do that? No. Did he summon up his best drill-sergeant impressions and sound harsh and mean so that she’d never look at him again with those sparkling eyes full of hope? It’s what he should have done.

But did he? No. He wanted to hear her laugh again. Against every instinct he had, he advanced when he should have retreated. “So what would you have named him? Wait, I know. Something fancy. Like Prince or Duke, maybe.”

“Now you’re mocking me.” She thrust her gently rounded chin just high enough for the wind to sneak beneath the fall of her silken hair and ruffle it.

The wispy locks caressed the side of her face and made him wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.

“No, I like people names for dogs,” she added. “They have feelings, too.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got one of those pampered little dogs. With carefully brushed hair tied up with a pink ribbon. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“A cocker spaniel, right?” He’d recognized the note and type of bark earlier, when she’d been unlocking her front door.

“How did you know?”

“I just do. I’m gifted.” Oh, that made her laugh. “What? You don’t think so?”

“Gifted isn’t the word I’d use. Irritating. Annoying. Arrogant.”

“Ouch. Calling me names already? That doesn’t bode well for our future together as next-door neighbors.” He liked the way a little wrinkle furrowed between her brows right at the bridge of her nose. “You’re mad because I’m right.”

“I’m not mad, and there’s nothing wrong with having a polite dog.”

“My dog doesn’t have to be well mannered. Not with his good looks. He’s naturally adored no matter what.”

Was Sam Gardner talking about himself, too? “Yes, but good looks can only take a guy so far.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He braced his hands on his hips, a fighting stance, broadening his shoulders, drawing tight his chest muscles.

He looked as invincible as steel, but there was a tenderness in him, a kindness that shone in the chocolate warmth of his eyes, that gleamed like a promise in his deep rumbling voice. “My dog is good-looking and at the top of the food chain. Look at him. Big teeth. Bred for fighting. He’s a trained guard dog.”

“He’s a thief. He helped himself to most of the dog biscuits.”

“I can get you another box. Hold on.”

“I don’t want you to reimburse me with dog treats. I was just—” Okay, so Sam Gardner did meet another criterion. He could make her laugh.

But that didn’t mean he was a good man. For example, he might not be a responsible pet owner. “Didn’t you notice Leo was gone from your yard?”

“One minute I looked out the window and he was fine. But the phone rang and he must have escaped while I was talking to my lady love.”

“You were talking with your aunt, huh?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’m gifted—what can I say?”

“You overheard me through the open windows when you were bringing Leo back.”

“And you heard my dog’s little bark.”

Sam chuckled, low and deep, studying her with a gaze so intent, it was as if he could see her soul, and she shivered, feeling exposed. Way too exposed.

She took a step back, confused, not at all sure she liked this man. He definitely wasn’t anything close to her ideal of Mr. Right.

What she knew for sure was that it was time to leave. “Goodbye, Leo. It was nice meeting you. Come over any time to visit.”

“I’ll be fixing that fence. It’s next on my list,” Sam informed her as she held out her hands and the big dog laid his face in her open palms.

“I’m glad. This is a quiet neighborhood, but there’s always a car now and then that’s driving too fast and isn’t watching for kids or pets.” She knelt, her hair falling all around her face and her shoulders and tumbling down over her nape, to let Leo kiss her chin. “Good dog, good boy.”

Sam’s heart stopped beating. He’d never seen such gentle hands. Slender and fine boned, with long tapered fingers. She looked like kindness personified, and it rocked him to the core—as if he’d taken a direct blow from a grenade launcher.

Leo gazed at her again with adoration, and while Sam wasn’t about to do the same, he could see there was something endearing about her. With her head bent forward, he could see the careful part of her hair—perfect, not a strand out of place.

See? She was just what he thought. The perfect woman with a perfect life looking for the perfect man to marry.

He wanted nothing to do with that.

To make it clear, Sam stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. He kept them there as Kirby rose like a flower to the sun, straight and elegant and lovely, and smiled at him. Hers was a smile that could melt the polar ice caps with its loveliness. Then she moved away and out of his sight.

The scent of her perfume, something light and floral and sweet, remained.

He was alone. And that was good. His life was fine the way it was.

Leo nudged his knee.

“C’mon, boy, let’s go grab some lunch. Then we’ve got to get busy. We’ve a lot of work ahead of us.”

The dog loped up the back steps, dashed across the porch and into the house. He bounded and hopped impatiently while Sam grabbed his wallet and his keys.

The empty house echoed around him, lonely.

As his life was meant to be.

“Ouch!” Kirby sucked her fingernail, a casualty of trying to open the new box of tea. The wrapping remained untouched, despite her torn and bent nail.

What did they make this stuff out of? Invisible steel? Forget breaking another fingernail over this. She was going for the big guns.

She yanked open the top kitchen drawer and rummaged around in the mess. Where had the scissors gone? The ringing phone interrupted her search.

“Hello, Kirby dear. I just wanted to give you a quick call and let you know that my nephew 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 there like an advertisement for all that was good in the world. Clean counters and polished wood and every knickknack in place. With a smile that shone as genuine as the sun.

Not that he believed in that kind of goodness anymore.

Goodness? No. God? Yes. Peace? Yes. That’s what he believed in.

After too many years as a soldier and then as a corporate pilot flying head honchos anywhere in the world they needed to go, he just wanted a home. Peace and quiet. To be content and enjoy his life. Just him and Leo.

He drove the nail in sure and deep with one whack of the hammer. Pinned his elbow on the board and drove in a second nail. A third.

“That was my sister.” She came up from behind him, her steps hushed in the soft grass. Ice cubes rattled as she set down glass and pitcher, both topped with sliced lemons.

Thoughtful.

“I’ve got to run in and help her with the coffee shop. She’s shorthanded. Do you need anything else? I’ll leave the back door unlocked. Just help yourself.”

“Sure, okay.” He didn’t look at her as he drove another nail home. “I’ll lock up when I finish.”

“Okay. Thanks, Sam.”

“I’ve got to ask you something.” He nailed the next board into place. “This has really been bothering me. I’ve had some neighbor disasters, too.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“Are you a partying kind of girl? I’m praying that you’re a quiet sort of woman who doesn’t play music all hours of the night. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Funny.” She slung her slim black purse over her shoulder. “Give my regards to your biker friends.”

Her wink made him chuckle, and it warmed him down to his bones. One thing about Kirby—he liked her sense of humor.

But that was all.

She swept away from him, like grace and spring and peace all rolled up into one perfect human being. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Not by a long shot. But she was fine.

Very fine, indeed.