for?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I didn’t expect that you would,” he grunted. When she sensed him getting ready to turn again—a turn that Gabby knew would signal the end of cordial relations between them—she took a step forward, almost against her will.
“I’m sorry for all of it.” To her ears, her own voice sounded strained and tinny. “For the way I’ve been treating you. For the way I’ve made you think I’m not grateful for the things you’ve done.”
“And?”
She felt herself shrink, something that seemed to happen only in his presence.
“And,” she said, her tone softening, “I’ve been wrong.”
He paused, hand on hip. “About what?’
Gee, where should I start? the little voice answered . Maybe I haven’t been wrong. Maybe my intuition has been warning me about something I don’t quite understand but shouldn’t be under-estimated. . . .
“About you,” she said, ignoring the little voice. “And you’re right. I haven’t been treating you the way I should, but to be honest, I’d rather not go into the reasons why.” She forced a smile, one that wasn’t reciprocated. “Would it be possible for us to start over?”
He seemed to mull this over. “I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” he said. “The last thing I need in my life is a crazy neighbor. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I learned a long time ago to call ’em like I see ’em.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Actually, I think I’m being more than fair. But I’ll tell you what—if you’re willing to start over, I’m willing to start over. But only if you’re certain you want that.”
“I am.”
“Okay, then,” he said. He retraced his steps to the deck. “Hi,” he offered, holding out his hand. “My name is Travis Parker, and I want to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
She stared at his hand. After a moment, she took it and said, “I’m Gabby Holland. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“What do you do?
“I’m a physician assistant,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. “How about you?’
“I’m a veterinarian,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“Savannah, Georgia,” she answered. “And you?”
“From here,” he said. “Born and raised.”
“Do you like it here?”
“What’s not to like? Beautiful weather, zero traffic.” He paused. “And for the most part, nice neighbors, too.”
“I’ve heard that,” she said. “In fact, I know the vet here in town might even make an emergency house call now and then. Can’t find that in the city.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Hey, by the way, my friends and I are heading out on the boat today. Would you like to join us?”
She squinted up at him. “I would, but I have to build a pen for the puppies my dog, Molly, had two nights ago. I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”
“Need some help? I’ve got some extra planks of wood and some crates in the garage. It won’t take long.”
She hesitated, then looked up with a smile. “In that case, I’d love to go.”
Travis was as good as his word. He arrived—still half-naked, to her dismay—carrying four long boards beneath his arms. After dropping those off, he jogged back to his garage. He returned with the crates, along with a hammer and a handful of nails.
Though he pretended not to notice the smell, she noticed that he put the pen together far faster than she would have imagined possible.
“You should probably line this area with newspapers. Do you have enough?”
When she nodded, he motioned toward his house again. “I’ve still got a few things to take care of, so I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”
Gabby nodded again, feeling a roiling sensation in her stomach, something akin to nervousness. Which was why, after she’d watched him enter his house and had lined the pen, she found herself
She hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I didn’t expect that you would,” he grunted. When she sensed him getting ready to turn again—a turn that Gabby knew would signal the end of cordial relations between them—she took a step forward, almost against her will.
“I’m sorry for all of it.” To her ears, her own voice sounded strained and tinny. “For the way I’ve been treating you. For the way I’ve made you think I’m not grateful for the things you’ve done.”
“And?”
She felt herself shrink, something that seemed to happen only in his presence.
“And,” she said, her tone softening, “I’ve been wrong.”
He paused, hand on hip. “About what?’
Gee, where should I start? the little voice answered . Maybe I haven’t been wrong. Maybe my intuition has been warning me about something I don’t quite understand but shouldn’t be under-estimated. . . .
“About you,” she said, ignoring the little voice. “And you’re right. I haven’t been treating you the way I should, but to be honest, I’d rather not go into the reasons why.” She forced a smile, one that wasn’t reciprocated. “Would it be possible for us to start over?”
He seemed to mull this over. “I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” he said. “The last thing I need in my life is a crazy neighbor. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I learned a long time ago to call ’em like I see ’em.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Actually, I think I’m being more than fair. But I’ll tell you what—if you’re willing to start over, I’m willing to start over. But only if you’re certain you want that.”
“I am.”
“Okay, then,” he said. He retraced his steps to the deck. “Hi,” he offered, holding out his hand. “My name is Travis Parker, and I want to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
She stared at his hand. After a moment, she took it and said, “I’m Gabby Holland. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“What do you do?
“I’m a physician assistant,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. “How about you?’
“I’m a veterinarian,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“Savannah, Georgia,” she answered. “And you?”
“From here,” he said. “Born and raised.”
“Do you like it here?”
“What’s not to like? Beautiful weather, zero traffic.” He paused. “And for the most part, nice neighbors, too.”
“I’ve heard that,” she said. “In fact, I know the vet here in town might even make an emergency house call now and then. Can’t find that in the city.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Hey, by the way, my friends and I are heading out on the boat today. Would you like to join us?”
She squinted up at him. “I would, but I have to build a pen for the puppies my dog, Molly, had two nights ago. I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”
“Need some help? I’ve got some extra planks of wood and some crates in the garage. It won’t take long.”
She hesitated, then looked up with a smile. “In that case, I’d love to go.”
Travis was as good as his word. He arrived—still half-naked, to her dismay—carrying four long boards beneath his arms. After dropping those off, he jogged back to his garage. He returned with the crates, along with a hammer and a handful of nails.
Though he pretended not to notice the smell, she noticed that he put the pen together far faster than she would have imagined possible.
“You should probably line this area with newspapers. Do you have enough?”
When she nodded, he motioned toward his house again. “I’ve still got a few things to take care of, so I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”
Gabby nodded again, feeling a roiling sensation in her stomach, something akin to nervousness. Which was why, after she’d watched him enter his house and had lined the pen, she found herself
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