Until She Met Daniel by Callie Endicott

have been drinking at your well for a while,” she murmured.
    â€œOr someone else’s. Does the sight of blood make you squeamish?”
    â€œA little,” she confessed, digging a clean tissue out of her pocket. “Here.”
    Obligingly, he wiped his arm. “I’ll stick this in the trash on my way home. See you on Monday. Have a nice weekend.”
    â€œYou, too. Mine is going to be all about berries and making jam. I’ll be a regular pioneer woman, which fits this area, don’t you think?”
    * * *
    D ANIEL   NODDED   AND   walked on, oddly sorry the encounter with Mandy was over. There always seemed to be abundant energy around her.
    A sudden, surprising impulse hit to ask if she’d like to have dinner, but he firmly put the idea aside. He was just at loose ends with Samantha and Joyce still in Southern California. The local cable company was coming to install the lines and equipment for a phone, internet and cable connection, and until then, he couldn’t even go online and use Skype to talk with his daughter.
    As for an adult social life...?
    When he began dating again, he’d need to make it clear it was unlikely he was looking for something permanent. He’d never had much faith in marriage, and after his experience with Celia, he was more skeptical than ever about the institution. From what he’d seen, the odds of divorce were greater than the chance of succeeding, and even “successful” marriages often hid a fair amount of misery.
    Right now, the best antidote to his current loneliness was calling Samantha and getting a full report on her day.
    Walking more swiftly, Daniel pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number at the top of his list.
    * * *
    M ANDY   SAW D ANIEL   grope in the pocket of his athletic shorts. His bare legs were lean and powerful—he obviously wasn’t exaggerating about running regularly.
    After another hour, Mandy reluctantly started back to her car. Her stomach was growling and there were fewer people in the park. Good sense said she should leave.
    At the little house where she lived, she carefully sorted the berries before washing and putting them into a plastic freezer bag. At this rate, it would take a week to get enough for jam. No wonder huckleberry preserves were so expensive in the gift stores.
    It was still light, so she walked out to the patio, Mr. Spock yowling plaintively from behind the closed door. He gave up after a few minutes and she relaxed, listening to the music the crickets made and the sound of the wind. A lawn mower started in the Bertram House yard, but she didn’t mind; it fit the evening and accompanied the other mowers in the distance.
    Daniel approached a few minutes later, pushing the lawn mower. The bushes between their yards were short and sparse, and their gazes met. She raised a hand to be sociable, even lifted her iced tea and pointed at it so he’d know she was offering a glass if he wanted it.
    After twenty minutes, the mower stopped and Daniel came back to catch her attention.
    â€œHope I didn’t disturb your evening too much. I’m not much of a gardener, but the grass was getting too long.”
    â€œIt’s just part of the late-summer music,” she said. “Want some tea?”
    He hesitated, looked about ready to say yes, then shook his head. “I’ve got some things to do in the house, but thanks for the offer. Your iced tea is better than what I make. What blend do you use?”
    There was a dogged casualness in his question, as if he was determined to be pleasant and nothing more. She ought to be grateful, instead of annoyed.
    â€œEnglish breakfast with a small dash of jasmine,” she said, trying to copy his tone of this-conversation-doesn’t-matter-much. And it didn’t. There were underlying tensions between them because they had such different opinions, but this wasn’t work and she didn’t enjoy being on