by Natasha Deen
“Grandpa, you told me Mrs. Baxter wanted those flowers removed because she was putting in roses.” He looked at me and offered a faint smile. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who took your flowers. They’re in my trunk—I meant to transplant them in my greenhouse, but I’ll be happy to replant them in your garden.”
I nodded, too gleeful at the idea of him shirtless and on my property to do anything else.
Mr. Garret turned. He shifted and made the leather creak. “Harry runs one of the most successful landscaping businesses in Florida. He’ll do you a right-bang up job.”
“I’m sure.”
“He’s great with his tools.”
I sipped at my drink, grimacing at the too-sweet liquid.
“He works long and hard—he sure knows how to go deep, really get to the good spots.”
Heat crawled along my skin, and I took a breath. Was it my over-sexed imagination or was everything sounding like a double entendre?
“Grandpa.”
Harry’s exasperated tone broke my fevered train of thought.
“Grandpa.”
The warning was in his tone.
“You’re changing the subject. We were talking about you and Angel’s grandmother.”
“Aw—I just did what she told me. She’s always doing this to me!” He waved his teaspoon like a saber. “First, it’s ‘do this, Mr. Garret.’ Then, when I do it, she changes her mind and I’m in trouble. It’s her fault. She says she’s thrilled to have a man help around the house—”
That sounded like Nana. I nodded.
“Then, when I do something, she wanted it done another way.”
I grinned and felt a renewed kinship with the elderly gent. Definitely Nana. She once kept me for three hours to hang one picture. By the end of the afternoon, my arms felt like melted rubber, and the dang photo ended up in the exact same place where it started.
Harry met my gaze and hid a smile. “Perhaps, you should stop helping her, then.”
“Yes, he’s right—”
Mr. Garret’s shoulders squared. “I’ll not. It’s un-gentlemanly.”
“But I think Harry has a point—” I said. Here was my bargaining chip. “Her instructions can be confusing—”
“I may be eighty-five, but I’m not addle-brained. She does it on purpose, just to annoy me.” He launched into a tirade of stolen newspapers, fruit, and apple pies baked with too-ripe apples.
Harry, already sitting beside me, shifted closer. He reached out toward my hand.
My stomach fluttered.
His gaze caught mine. Harry blushed and his hand dropped away.
The heat of his body, the scent of his soap, did more to stir my blood than the multiple teaspoons of sugar I’d inadvertently put into my glass.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in my ear.
His warm breath seeded my heart and mind with visions of long nights and cozy mornings. Inhaling, I gave myself a moment to enjoy the goose-bumpy shivers, then said, “It’s fine. They’re more ornery than a restrained bull in a herd of heifers.”
His lips twitched then he grinned and said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
My heart skipped a beat. Lord, I love a man who tells me I’m right. I made a pact right then, one way or another, I’d finagle a way to become Mrs. Harry Garret. I just had to find out what he could do with his tools. He touched my hand, soft enough to be innocent, but let his fingers linger in a way that was all grown-up.
“Perhaps we should go out for dinner, just the two of us, and discuss what we can do to solve this. Do you like French food?”
I opened my mouth to agree.
Mr. Garret interrupted, “You children aren’t listening. You think she’s the innocent one and the fault is mine for not understanding?” He pointed at the window. “Then, what’s that?”
I set down my glass, went to the window, and squeaked. There was Nana, prancing across Mr. Garret’s grass like a deranged pixie. She had a bag in her hand and tossed granules of some type across his lawn.
“Oh, my Lord! Nana!” I rushed out the door and down the steps. The Miami heat hit me like a shovel across the body. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?” I strode across the grass.
But she saw me and beat a hasty retreat to the back portion of the houses, and our property line.
“Nana—” I broke into a run and cursed my choice of pumps over sneakers. “Don’t you make me chase you!”
Nana kept her quick pace. The fertilizer seeds scattered behind her, and left a trail that would have made Hansel and Gretel proud.
“Stop behaving like a degenerate!” Oh, Lord, now I was breaking out the three-syllable words. “Don’t vex me!” That stopped her.
She set down the bag. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” Her breaths came out in puffs.
The exertion hadn’t done anything to dim the fervent look in her eyes. They burned bright and intense. I turned to the men and held out my hands in appeal. “She’s hypoglycemic. I apologize. Her blood sugar has obviously dropped and rendered her irritating.”
Harry looked at the bag. His eyes widened then narrowed into angry slits. The hard set of his jaw swallowed the good humor on his face. “Strongman’s fertilizer?” With a swift move, he grabbed the package, turning it around to stare at the bright yellow and green design.
“It was on sale,” she said and sniffed in Mr. Garret’s direction.
“Of course, it’s on sale,” said Harry. His words increased in volume and sharpness. “The company’s out of business for a reason!”
“Nana—” I grabbed her arm, perturbed to the point of vexation. She was a gopher in my garden, about to ruin my First-Date harvest before it had a chance to take root. “You shouldn’t have done this. Harry’s very particular about the products he uses on his granddaddy’s lawn.”
“Fertilizer is fertilizer,” she said, cutting a look at Mr. Garret. “And that old coot should know all about horse puckey!”
Shaking the bag in the air, Harry rounded on her. “Are you insane?”
And that stopped all my visions of our shared genetics, cold. One thing for me to question her sanity, I was family. We’d cried and laughed and grieved together. He’d done nothing but make my blood pressure spike. Sure, he was a good-looking, hard-bodied hunk, but there were tons of them around. Where I’d find another sexy creature like him in a community populated by seniors, I didn’t know. Hopeless optimism wasn’t just a philosophy of mine—it was a way of life.
Shoulders squared, I stepped between them and rounded on Harry. “Now you just hold on a minute, buster. You apologize to my Nana for calling her names.”
“I didn’t call her names.” The muscle at the side of his jaw bounced. “I asked her a question.”
Lord, I hate it when people argue semantics in the middle of an argument. “I get you’re madder than a hornet trapped under glass, but I’ve got this handled.” I glared up at him, and reminded myself not to swoon at the strong angle of his jaw, or give into the temptation to kiss him until the hard line of his mouth softened under mine.
“Handled?” He waggled the bag and crinkling sounded. “This thing’s been going on long enough, and obviously your methods haven’t worked—”
The air hissed through my teeth. How dare he question my methods? I wanted to ask him where he’d been the past three months when these two fools had been going at it, but he was talking too fast for me to butt in.
“—this stuff is toxic to the environment. It’s toxic to children and animals—” He used his free hand to gesture at the yard. “People walk their dogs nearby. Do you know what this could do to them?”
I ignored the reflexive swoon of a handsome man with a heart for the furry creatures of the good Lord’s creations and said, “No one walks their dogs in our backyard.”
“What about the birds? How do you plan on keeping them off the lawn?”
That stumped me, but I wasn’t Southern and a woman for nothing. I didn’t need t
o have all the answers. The breath hissed past my teeth and I jammed both hands on my hips. “I’ll figure it out, don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”
The muscle at the base of his jaw ticked a rapid rhythm. “I’m going to worry about it. We’re all going to worry about it! This company’s been sanctioned by the E.P.A. The owners are up on charges for the stuff they put in their bags.”
“The who, now?” Nana grabbed my arm and whispered the question.
“The Environmental Protection Agency.” With an impatient shrug, I shook her off and turned back to Harry. “I’m sure she didn’t know it.”
“Why aren’t you watching her?”
The implied you’re a horrible granddaughter made me bristle. I sucked back the harsh words rushing to my lips. “Why didn’t you watch your grandpa?”
His hand ran through his hair. “I haven’t been around—”
“Exactly!” I pointed an accusing finger. “Yet, here you are with your chest puffed out like a peacock’s and thinking you know the answers to everything.”
Again, he rattled the bag with jerky moves. “I know poisoning the water system’s never the answer to anything.”
“If he hadn’t ripped up her flowers, she wouldn’t have done anything.”
He tossed the bag on the lawn and jabbed his finger in Nana’s direction. “If she hadn’t asked him, he wouldn’t have done that.”
“You have no proof.”
His finger swung like a compass finding north, and honed in on his grandfather. “I have him, and that’s all the proof I need.”
I pointed at Nana. “I have her and that’s all the proof I need!”
Harry put a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “We’re leaving. Stay off our property.”
“Only as long as it takes me to sue your sorry hide and make it mine!” I grabbed Nana and yanked her towards me. “Come on!” I just about dragged her across the lawn, and I was almost to the door when I remembered she wasn’t as flexible or mendable as she’d once been. I loosened my hold, and gently pushed her through our back door. “Fix me something with protein and carbs,” I told her. “I’ll be working late tonight.”
“Darling—”
Her suddenly meek voice yanked me to an abrupt stop. I turned. “What is it?”
“What happened out there—” Her fingers laced and unlaced themselves.
I peered at her fidgeting. Suspicion crept up my spin and wound around my chest, tightening my lungs and constricting my heart. “What about what happened out there?”
She stepped back. “It’s only—”
Then I realized what had upset her. You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl. My posture softened. The tight rope around my chest loosened. I wrapped my arms around her and led her to the kitchen table. “It’s okay, sugar,” I said. “I know losing my temper wasn’t ladylike, but it had to be done.”
I crossed to the stove. My nose twitched at the lingering odor of oven cleaner. Setting the kettle to boil, I said, “I’m sorry I caused a scene, but we’ll fix this and make it right.” I turned around. “Why don’t you cook something for us? I’m going to change and get to work. That yard’ll be yours soon enough.” Heck, with as mad as I was, I was fixing to make Harry’s descendants’ yards ours, as well.
I jogged to my room and tossed on a tank and sweats. Then I pulled my hair into a bun. I headed into our library, where a fan ran overhead. As the computer booted up, I glanced out the window. My heart pinged at the sight of the lawn, the strewn garden tools. My date—my happily ever after—had rotted before it ever got a chance to bloom.
I swallowed the tattered visions of “if only,” mentally raked them into a pile, and stuffed them in a garbage bag. The computer beeped, I dropped into the ergonomic chair, and started double checking the property laws and statutes. Soon, I forgot about the screen’s glare and the hum of the tower. The printer buzzed and hummed, spitting out court decisions and precedents, and I grew woozy on the smell of ink toner.
The unexpected ring of the phone drilled into my brain with a heart-clattering trill. I vaulted off the chair, collected my wits, and grabbed the cordless. “Hello?” I sat back down.
“Angel?”
My heart did a double-beat in my chest. “Nana, why are you calling?” I pushed the phone closer to my ear. “Why are you whispering?” Just how low was her blood sugar?
“Well, I just felt awful about what happened—”
I bolted from my chair. It rolled backwards and crashed against the wall. “Where are you—why are you phoning me?”
“Sometimes it takes seeing your grandbabies acting like fools to realize what a fool you’ve been—”
Sweet Lord. Instead of giving me the Coles’ Notes version of her tale, I was getting the unabridged version, complete with director’s commentary. “Nana, hurry it up. Where are you?”
“Next door.”
“Next—!” I dashed to the window, tossed it open, and stuck out my head. “Where? I can’t see you.”
“I thought I’d talk some sense into Harrison, but he’s beside himself. Darlin’, I need your help—”
That was enough for me. The phone dropped to the hardwood. I raced to my room and yanked the baseball bat from under the poster bed. Not bothering with shoes, I sped barefoot from the house, ready to smash heads and take back my nana.
Chapter Four
The back door of Mr. Garret’s house was open and I rushed in. No one took my nana without her consent. My actions would have made the Marines proud. Starting with the kitchen, the bat held in swing-position, I checked the pantry for my roped-and-bound grandmother. All I saw, though, was the orderly arrangement of soup cans, tomato paste, and cereals. Adrenaline poured into my veins, making my blood pressure spike and my heart boom.
Head down, I went down the hallway like a Black-Op, ever vigilant, my ears pricked for any noise. The only sound that greeted me was the hum of the air-conditioning. I searched the study, peering behind the desk and by the bookshelves, looked in the armoire of the living room. The more rooms I searched without finding her, the crazier I got. By the time I reached the back bedrooms, anxiety and anger made me more alien invader than cool soldier.
I kicked open one of the doors. Aware and ready, my gaze scanned the room, glancing over the oak armoire, roll-top desk, and white rug. It zeroed in on Harry, who stood beside the maroon-sheeted queen-sized bed, wearing nothing but black boxers, and a shocked expression.
I was angry, but I was still a warm-blooded woman. My brain put my righteous indignation on pause as I took in the way his dark hair formed tight curls on his chest, the black waistband of his boxer-briefs, and the sinewy strength that made him look like a sculpted god. An instinctive sigh escaped my lips. I bit back an appreciative moan. Then I channeled my best Marine voice and demanded, “Where’s my nana?”
“Your—” Shaking his head, he blinked. A frown slammed his eyebrows together. “What are you doing in my house?” His straightened arm pointed past me. “Get out!”
“I’m not going anywhere without my nana!” I slapped the bat against my hand like I meant business. After two hits, my palm hurt like all get-out, but I wasn’t going to let him know.
He glanced at the weapon and back at my face.
Judging by the tight set of his shoulders and deliberate way he moved, he was as ornery as I was.
Harry reached for his jeans. He pulled his cell out of his pocket. “I’m phoning the cops,” he growled as he yanked on his pants. “You’ll find your nana when she comes to bail you out.”
I strode towards him, ready to do what I didn’t know.
“Angel?”
Her hesitant voice came from behind me. “Nana?” I turned and saw her standing by Mr. Garret. Relief flooding my taut muscles, I turned, dropped the bat to my side, and gathered her into my free arm. “Are you okay?” I shot Harry a dirty look. “Did they hurt you?”
Harry’s face wrinkled with
disgust. “I can’t believe you allowed your grandmother to trespass on our property—again! I’m phoning the cops.”
“Go ahead,” I said, tightening my hold on Nana. “We’ll see if you have a pot to plant in, after I’m done with you.”
“Angel?”
Nana’s voice came out muffled from where I pressed her against my chest.
“I’m fine, but I’m going to expire if you don’t give me some air.”
I loosened my hold but stayed close.
She stepped back and took a deep breath. Her gaze flicked to Harry and her eyes widened, her jaw went slack.
I understood the sentiment. If not for the righteous indignation coursing through my body, I wouldn’t just be staring, I’d be drooling, too. “We’re going.”
She remained statue-still. Only her eyes moved, as her gaze traveled up and down the rippling lines of Harry’s form. Slowly, her lips formed into a small circle.
“Nana.”
“Hmm?”
“Nana!” I leaned down and looked into her eyes.
She jerked, blinked, and clarity took the place of the glazed look in her eye.
“We’re going.”
“Right, dear. Right.”
I held her by the arm and stormed for the exit.
Her neck swiveled and her focus returned to Harry. “Some specimen.”
Regret pulled at my muscles but I moved forward. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about thinking about it. My fingers already felt bereft of the lost opportunity to trace patterns down his stomach, and curl themselves in the hair by the nape of his neck.
“I don’t think so.” Mr. Garret closed the door.
The movement full of forethought was as ominous as a lightning storm rumbling across the prairie.
Harry looked up from his phone. “Grand?”
Nana pulled free of me and walked toward Mr. Garret.
“What are you doing?” Confusion invaded my thoughts as I waved her back to me. “That’s the wrong side.”
Mr. Garret put his arm around her shoulder.
Not good. I stopped in mid-wave, knowing whatever was coming next would make me wish I’d filled my coffee with Southern Comfort.