pick up a hacksaw, and start cutting. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware of him just outside the doorway. A breeze comes through the opening, with a scent of whatever he’s wearing—soap or aftershave. It’s fresh, and crisp, like myrtle—one of my favorite scents in the garden. My whole body wakes up at this awareness.
I draw a deep breath—through my mouth so I don’t intoxicate myself more—and focus. He could make this cut in quarter time, but I don’t like feeling like the weaker sex. I lean in and push harder—my arm complains—and the job is done. I coil the tubing, fasten a tie, and hand it over.
Our fingers touch. The sensation is like handing him a nest of live wire. The connection is shocking.
I replace the master roll on the shelf and catch my breath. “Anything else you need—?”
“Jason. I’m Jason.”
His blue gaze engages my hazel one. My mouth goes dry. I swallow and manage to ask, “Anything else, Jason?”
“How about connecting?”
Connecting? A rush goes through my body. I’m titillated and alarmed. Is he asking what I think he’s asking? After a few minutes of innuendos about his hose? I purse my lips. This guy’s gone too far. Harassment happens here in the nursery yard, but never with a guy that looks like this, a guy who could probably get most any woman with a waggle of his finger, or his…I stop myself. Enough .
The yard guys will step in when they see we’re having trouble with a male customer, but no one is in sight. I grit my teeth, and then, right before I make a complete and utter fool of myself, I realize he’s staring at the tubing.
“I should probably pick up some new connectors, too. Don’t you think?”
He’s not talking about the two of us behind the shed. Hello, Megan . He’s connecting the new hose so he can fix the pond. My cheeks burn like I’ve baked them in a 500-degree oven. From a low shelf, I retrieve a kit.
He jiggles the pieces around in the plastic bag so he can see them all. Then he nods. “Great, thanks.” He points at the potted plants near the pond where I was working. “That purple flower there? Looks like an iris?” he questions. “Is that for a pond?”
I nod. “It is. Water iris.”
“My uncle’s been gone one year tomorrow.” He walks over and picks up one of the pots of iris.
I have to drag my gaze off his biceps as he picks up the iris plant.
“My aunt likes purple. You think she could grow this?”
He’s buying a plant for his aunt on the anniversary of his uncle’s passing? The lump in my throat makes answering difficult. I swallow hard. “I think she could.”
****
Sara accosts me an hour later—big surprise. I’m pulling a water hose across the yard to one of the far ponds. I tell her I have more pressing things to think about than one fleeting customer which isn’t true. The instant connection with Jason is the most exciting thing that’s happened in a long time. I am still thinking about him, and my palms are sweating even when my gloves are off. I predict I’ll be thinking about him for some time to come. He’s a firefighter somewhere, not much to go on. Sara would have extracted more information.
My friend groans. “Come on, Megan. I saw him. A cadaver would perk up for McDreamy there. You can’t pretend he’s a run-of-the-mill event.”
I scowl at her. “You’re almost married. Why so fixated on the eye candy?”
Stupid remark . I don’t talk like that. I don’t think like that. I’m road blocking, sending her another way. Sara’s piercing gaze drills me. Ignoring this wiry determined woman with her jet black Cleopatra cut, bracelets that take up half her forearm, and bright red capris is hard. “You’re protesting too much.”
Under Sara’s scrutiny, I feel my cheeks heating again—the bane of the redhead.
“And to answer your question, I’m focused on you. More than a year had passed since you’ve dated anyone. Come on, Megan. You’re giving the deadbeat former
I draw a deep breath—through my mouth so I don’t intoxicate myself more—and focus. He could make this cut in quarter time, but I don’t like feeling like the weaker sex. I lean in and push harder—my arm complains—and the job is done. I coil the tubing, fasten a tie, and hand it over.
Our fingers touch. The sensation is like handing him a nest of live wire. The connection is shocking.
I replace the master roll on the shelf and catch my breath. “Anything else you need—?”
“Jason. I’m Jason.”
His blue gaze engages my hazel one. My mouth goes dry. I swallow and manage to ask, “Anything else, Jason?”
“How about connecting?”
Connecting? A rush goes through my body. I’m titillated and alarmed. Is he asking what I think he’s asking? After a few minutes of innuendos about his hose? I purse my lips. This guy’s gone too far. Harassment happens here in the nursery yard, but never with a guy that looks like this, a guy who could probably get most any woman with a waggle of his finger, or his…I stop myself. Enough .
The yard guys will step in when they see we’re having trouble with a male customer, but no one is in sight. I grit my teeth, and then, right before I make a complete and utter fool of myself, I realize he’s staring at the tubing.
“I should probably pick up some new connectors, too. Don’t you think?”
He’s not talking about the two of us behind the shed. Hello, Megan . He’s connecting the new hose so he can fix the pond. My cheeks burn like I’ve baked them in a 500-degree oven. From a low shelf, I retrieve a kit.
He jiggles the pieces around in the plastic bag so he can see them all. Then he nods. “Great, thanks.” He points at the potted plants near the pond where I was working. “That purple flower there? Looks like an iris?” he questions. “Is that for a pond?”
I nod. “It is. Water iris.”
“My uncle’s been gone one year tomorrow.” He walks over and picks up one of the pots of iris.
I have to drag my gaze off his biceps as he picks up the iris plant.
“My aunt likes purple. You think she could grow this?”
He’s buying a plant for his aunt on the anniversary of his uncle’s passing? The lump in my throat makes answering difficult. I swallow hard. “I think she could.”
****
Sara accosts me an hour later—big surprise. I’m pulling a water hose across the yard to one of the far ponds. I tell her I have more pressing things to think about than one fleeting customer which isn’t true. The instant connection with Jason is the most exciting thing that’s happened in a long time. I am still thinking about him, and my palms are sweating even when my gloves are off. I predict I’ll be thinking about him for some time to come. He’s a firefighter somewhere, not much to go on. Sara would have extracted more information.
My friend groans. “Come on, Megan. I saw him. A cadaver would perk up for McDreamy there. You can’t pretend he’s a run-of-the-mill event.”
I scowl at her. “You’re almost married. Why so fixated on the eye candy?”
Stupid remark . I don’t talk like that. I don’t think like that. I’m road blocking, sending her another way. Sara’s piercing gaze drills me. Ignoring this wiry determined woman with her jet black Cleopatra cut, bracelets that take up half her forearm, and bright red capris is hard. “You’re protesting too much.”
Under Sara’s scrutiny, I feel my cheeks heating again—the bane of the redhead.
“And to answer your question, I’m focused on you. More than a year had passed since you’ve dated anyone. Come on, Megan. You’re giving the deadbeat former
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