pausing. “… the family a year later. It’s one of the first craftsman homes built in the South.” Jon led her outside to the white, airy veranda with its stone fireplace and stained concrete floor and Nate.
“Welcome,” he said, rising, the same light in his eyes from last night. He looked different this morning in his crisp blue button-down and creased khaki shorts with his dark hair clean and loose about his forehead. A far cry from the aproned, hair-netted man who carried a ratty toothbrush into the bathrooms to scrub around the toilets.
Susanna released a low breath and steadied herself witha hand on the back of a chair. “This place is beautiful.”
He
was beautiful. Mercy …
She set her satchel on the table, her gaze flickering past Nate’s. He was looking at her as though he could see right through her.
“So … this is the garden?” Moving to the edge of the porch, Susanna took in the withered shrubs and thriving weeds and the low stone wall.
“What do you think?” Nate stood next to her, hands tucked in his shorts pockets.
Oh, Nate … She stepped off the porch.
What are you doing to me?
He made her want to lean into him as if she’d arrived home after an aimless journey.
Rebound. That’s all this was, rebound. Nate showed up just as Adam exited, and she was airing her feelings out on him. Thank goodness he was only here for a short holiday.
“You have tons of potential with this space.” She walked a few feet down the path, focusing her thoughts on the reason Nate called her here in the first place. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ve no idea, Suz.” He’d started using her nickname steadily last night under the influence of Catfish, Bristol, Avery, and the rest of the crew. “You’re the professional.” Nate joined her on the path. “I had a grand time last night.”
She laughed. “Grand time? Is this the Brighton form of politeness? You scrubbed toilets, Nate.”
“There’s nothing that cheers a man’s heart like gleaming white porcelain.”
“You’re crazy.” When she tapped his arm, he caught her hand in his.
“I could do with a dose of the crazies,” he said, staring at her too long, holding on too long. “Shall we tour the garden? It’s big, as you can see, but with plenty of beds and space to create.”
“It’s a blank canvas.” His touch robbed her of breath. Why was he holding her hand? Why did she feel his heart againsther palm? She took a giant step toward the ocean-side wall as if there were something important to inspect, dislodging her hand from his, easing his fuel from her pulse. “It’s lovely, Nate. So very lovely.”
“I see weeds. What do you see?”
Susanna cut across the lawn, smoothing her hands over her suit slacks. “Angles, textures, and ambiance. I see roses and foxglove, heather and perennials, perhaps a cobbled path and box hedges along the wall.”
Like the Christ Church grounds, Nate’s garden had a mystical aura, as if the flora and fauna understood gardens were for peace. For communing.
She could hide here. Find God here. Even among the barren beds. She stooped to run her hand over the cut blades of grass. “I could lie down and make a grass angel.”
“Like a snow angel?”
“Exactly.” She flopped on her back, pressed down into the grass and flapped her arms and legs, not caring about possible grass stains on her suit.
Nate bent over her. Did he know his smile was a potent elixir? “You look ridiculous.”
“You should see this from my angle.”
“Guess I’ll have to fix that straightaway.” He flopped down next to her, swinging his arms and legs over the grass. “Okay, on three, let’s jump up and see our creations.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.” She fired off the ground, twisting her ankle and tripping into Nate. He caught her, wrapping his arm about her waist, holding her to him.
“Well, what do you think?” He jutted his chin at their grassy, angelic impressions.
“I think, um,
“Welcome,” he said, rising, the same light in his eyes from last night. He looked different this morning in his crisp blue button-down and creased khaki shorts with his dark hair clean and loose about his forehead. A far cry from the aproned, hair-netted man who carried a ratty toothbrush into the bathrooms to scrub around the toilets.
Susanna released a low breath and steadied herself witha hand on the back of a chair. “This place is beautiful.”
He
was beautiful. Mercy …
She set her satchel on the table, her gaze flickering past Nate’s. He was looking at her as though he could see right through her.
“So … this is the garden?” Moving to the edge of the porch, Susanna took in the withered shrubs and thriving weeds and the low stone wall.
“What do you think?” Nate stood next to her, hands tucked in his shorts pockets.
Oh, Nate … She stepped off the porch.
What are you doing to me?
He made her want to lean into him as if she’d arrived home after an aimless journey.
Rebound. That’s all this was, rebound. Nate showed up just as Adam exited, and she was airing her feelings out on him. Thank goodness he was only here for a short holiday.
“You have tons of potential with this space.” She walked a few feet down the path, focusing her thoughts on the reason Nate called her here in the first place. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ve no idea, Suz.” He’d started using her nickname steadily last night under the influence of Catfish, Bristol, Avery, and the rest of the crew. “You’re the professional.” Nate joined her on the path. “I had a grand time last night.”
She laughed. “Grand time? Is this the Brighton form of politeness? You scrubbed toilets, Nate.”
“There’s nothing that cheers a man’s heart like gleaming white porcelain.”
“You’re crazy.” When she tapped his arm, he caught her hand in his.
“I could do with a dose of the crazies,” he said, staring at her too long, holding on too long. “Shall we tour the garden? It’s big, as you can see, but with plenty of beds and space to create.”
“It’s a blank canvas.” His touch robbed her of breath. Why was he holding her hand? Why did she feel his heart againsther palm? She took a giant step toward the ocean-side wall as if there were something important to inspect, dislodging her hand from his, easing his fuel from her pulse. “It’s lovely, Nate. So very lovely.”
“I see weeds. What do you see?”
Susanna cut across the lawn, smoothing her hands over her suit slacks. “Angles, textures, and ambiance. I see roses and foxglove, heather and perennials, perhaps a cobbled path and box hedges along the wall.”
Like the Christ Church grounds, Nate’s garden had a mystical aura, as if the flora and fauna understood gardens were for peace. For communing.
She could hide here. Find God here. Even among the barren beds. She stooped to run her hand over the cut blades of grass. “I could lie down and make a grass angel.”
“Like a snow angel?”
“Exactly.” She flopped on her back, pressed down into the grass and flapped her arms and legs, not caring about possible grass stains on her suit.
Nate bent over her. Did he know his smile was a potent elixir? “You look ridiculous.”
“You should see this from my angle.”
“Guess I’ll have to fix that straightaway.” He flopped down next to her, swinging his arms and legs over the grass. “Okay, on three, let’s jump up and see our creations.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.” She fired off the ground, twisting her ankle and tripping into Nate. He caught her, wrapping his arm about her waist, holding her to him.
“Well, what do you think?” He jutted his chin at their grassy, angelic impressions.
“I think, um,
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