Issue 7, Febraury 2018: Featuring Jayne Ann Krentz: Heart's Kiss, #7

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “You wear them or I’m raising your rates and hiring some real help.” He would anyway if she so much as complained about breaking a nail.

  “What’s the big deal?”

  Besides her being too beautiful to get dirty? “You need protection. If you get sunburned out here, you’re no good to me. If the thorns on those vines pierce that delicate skin of yours, you’re no good to me.” If he kissed her—really kissed her—she’d be no good to him.

  “You think I have delicate skin?” She beamed and tugged on the maroon T-shirt. It fell like a boxy mini-dress to her thighs. Or a sleep shirt if they’d had a sleep-over.

  Dangerous thought, that. Hank grabbed a two-cup colander and a narrow cage with small mesh wires from the wheelbarrow. “We’ll start by draining the fountain. The water will help loosen up the dry soil back here.”

  She followed him to the opposite side of the terrace. “What’s the cage for?”

  “The frogs. I’ll take them to the park later and let them go.”

  “Why not just let them hop to someone else’s yard?”

  He got to his knees behind the fountain and loosened the plug. Almost immediately, water gurgled out nearly as loud as Kimmy’s draining bathtub. “I have no problem with the snake eating them, but I thought that would upset you.”

  A frog leapt onto the rim of the fountain and then into the grass, taking charge of its own fate.

  “The park sounds lovely.” Julia sat on the lip of the fountain and covered her nose. “Pew. I’ll be glad when this doesn’t smell like wet garbage. Can we change the frog on top? He doesn’t look very regal.”

  Hank stood firm. “Frogs are a symbol of abundance.” People didn’t normally look him in the eye during his work day.

  But she did. With eyes as soft as a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. “You chose a frog for your logo.”

  “I grew up on a farm.” He handed her the colander. “We had a pond which attracted all kinds of creatures.”

  Another frog hopped up next to her. She yelped and got to her feet with a shiver and a shake that robbed him of speech.

  Not the frog. He blinked, croaked, and leapt deep into the grass.

  “Don’t get eaten,” she called after it.

  Common sense was telling him to back out of the project while he still could. She wasn’t going to pull her weight. And he would have left if she hadn’t kissed him. “Look, I need you to scoop out the frogs and put them in the cage while I bring in the rest of the equipment.” The water was going down rapidly, swirling over the drain with a continuous suck and gurgle.

  “I thought I’d be weeding.”

  He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “If you don’t want to take orders, I have five different guys I know are looking for work. Just scoop. If you catch anything, dump it in the cage.” He wasn’t a total brute. He opened the cage door for her.

  She looked pale, but began half-heartedly sweeping the colander through the mucky water.

  Trusting her to catch any remaining frogs, Hank brought in the rest of the equipment from his truck. “Catch anything?”

  “No. There were a lot of jumpers with death wishes.” She sounded relieved. “The water’s drained out and there’s nothing but piles of mud and algae.” She tucked a strand of golden hair behind an ear. “Wait. There. It’s a baby frog.”

  She was looking, not scooping. With a weary sigh he had no right heaving at 8:30 in the morning, Hank came to stand beside her, leaning over to place his hands on the rim of the fountain. The frog was barely bigger than a quarter.

  A small flat face shot out of the drain, mouth open, fangs bared, ready to eat a froggy snack.

  “Snake!” Julia screamed. She dropped the colander and leapt back and then leapt onto Hank’s back for a piggy-back ride. “Snake-snake-snake!”

  The snake in question—the two-foot long garden snake he’d met last week—didn’t have enough spare length to catch the leaping froglet. The snake twisted and tensed as it tried to free itself from the drain. The little frog leapt about in the corner. Safe. For now.

  Hank straightened. Julia’s legs were still wrapped around his waist and she was babbling unintelligibly. Every other word seemed to be snake.

  The snake in question was nearly free.

  “If you want me to save that frog, you need to put your feet on the ground.”

  Her long legs dropped to the ground (pity, really). And then she did a snake-inspired salsa dance next to him, similar to the one she’d done the day they’d met. “Hurry. Save the little guy. Hurry.”

  A swipe of the colander and the frog was rescued.

  Although the frog was safe, Julia didn’t stop dancing. “Ew. Do something about the snake.”

  “I can either put the frog in the cage or the snake. Not both.”

  She stopped dancing, eyes worshipfully-wide. “I have a vase. But only for the frog.” She ran inside and re-appeared almost instantly, dumping a dried flower arrangement on her chair and holding out a standard, clear glass eighteen-inch vase. “Here.”

  Hank scooped the frog into his hand and deposited him in the vase. “Give him some water and put him out of the sun.”

  “Right.” Julia stared at the frog.

  “Looks like you have a pet.”

  “I’m not keeping him.” Her gaze dropped to the snake swishing through the puddles at the bottom of the fountain. She retreated a few steps.

  “Put the frog inside in the shade and I’ll get rid of the snake.” If this was any indication of the production pace they’d achieve together, Hank was in trouble. Once more, he considered backing out of the deal.

  “You’ll take him all the way to the park?” She turned those sweet blue eyes toward him again. “Promise?”

  His feet remained firmly planted, not backing anywhere. “Promise.”

  “My hero.” She kissed him.

  On both cheeks.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Julia was hot and it wasn’t because there was a hottie capturing a snake in her fountain.

  She’d jumped him. Granted, it was from fear, not overwhelming desire. But she wouldn’t be surprised if he thought she was a nut job.

  The eggs sighed heavily, as if she was a lost cause.

  “I’m not going to mess this up,” she told them, holding the vase at eye-level. “You’re my good luck charm, Kermit.” And just like that, her frog had a name. She put a small amount of water in the vase and set it on the kitchenette counter. And then because she wasn’t an amphibian person (or a snake person), she put a strainer over the top of the vase. “To keep you safe.” And from hopping out into the shop and scaring the customers.

  After getting herself some water, Julia went back outside to find Hank had returned from the park. “Kermit’s an orphan, abandoned by his family.”

  “Circle of life.” Hank was as basic as they come. Farm boy. Comfortable with critters. Broad shoulders. Strong back.

  She hadn’t broken him when she’d panicked. “I’m sorry about earlier. Hopping on you and all.” All being the embarrassing panicky part.

  The snake and cage were nowhere to be seen. The park was two blocks away and had a nice little stream with lots of tasty frogs. Kermit would not be one of them.

  “We’re weeding now.” He was all business, pretending she hadn’t invaded his personal space. “I’ll loosen up the roots with a shovel. You pull them out and toss them into the wheelbarrow.”

  “Right.” She wasn’t going to disappoint him again. After all, Lesson #4: Find things to do together where you can talk. And Lesson #5: Compliment him on his skills. “You handle slimy things really well.”

  He shot her a look that told her he suspected she might be a little slimy herself.

  “I mean, you’re an expert at what you do. I can see that.” Better. Definitely better.

  The eggs sighed, lost-cause like.

  I am not messing this up.

  The eggs’ silence was damning enough.

  He began creating a shoveled
line through the weeds, and then paused to look at her. “Ready, princess?”

  “I’m not a princess.” Her head came up. “I’m a city girl.” She’d never pulled a weed in her life. “I grew up in a high rise apartment in San Francisco. I’m a hard worker when I know what I’m doing.”

  He went back to loosening the soil. “Princess...City Girl. Either way, the weeds are awaiting an audience.”

  Julia stomped over to the corner where he’d started working, grabbed a handful of grass, and gave it a big tug. Given the now-swampy soil, the weeds offered no resistance. She tumbled back on her butt, the muddy grass landed on her legs. “I’m okay...I’m okay....” If she said it often enough, she’d forget how much her butt hurt. “I’m...I suck at this.”

  Agreed, the eggs said.

  A shadow loomed above her. Hank. A smile—his first—and a warmth in his eyes she’d never seen before. A hand extended toward her. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  If he had’ve made fun, she might have ran back inside. As it was, she returned his big smile, took his hand and came to her feet smoothly.

  “I guess I learn by failing.” She grinned up at him. This little red book had powers.

  He grinned back. “You’re running out of ways to fail.”

  She hoped that was true about a lot of things—not just gardening, but love. Or really, really strong like.

  In no time, Julia’s flowery shoes (so cute!) were covered in muck. Her legs were splattered with mud and her hair was a straggly blanket about her sweaty (not glowing) face. But she wouldn’t give up. There was that smile of his. And so she wrestled with the vines Hank was cutting back, trying to get them into the wheelbarrow. Those thorny ropes just loved to snag on Hank’s borrowed shirt and Julia’s freshly-shaven legs.

  “I’m here to spend my gift card.” The Love Lady poked her head out the door, a red scarf fluttering at her neck. “I see the book is working.”

  Hank turned to toss another six-foot, thorny trailer at Julia’s feet. “You look familiar.”

  “I’ve seen you at the farmer’s market.” The old lady smiled kindly. Her apple red lipstick didn’t seep into the wrinkles at her mouth or stain her teeth. Talk about aging gracefully.

  Paula appeared from behind her, très chic in a purple sheath and gray shrug. “Has Hank talked to you? At your table, Miss Uh...”

  “Never.” The Love Lady didn’t provide a name. “I’ve seen him with a little blonde at the apple cart.”

  What? The eggs shrieked. What about that smile?

  Julia’s gaze made a hard right. Hank stood without an iota of guilt at being outed as having a girlfriend.

  “My gift card won’t buy anything in the shop,” the Love Lady said. “Nothing, but Kermit.” She held up the vase.

  “But...” Julia forgot about eggs and blondes and potentially lost lovers or sperm daddies. “How did you know what his name was?” She hadn’t told Paula.

  “Kermit told me.” The Love Lady turned to go, calling over her shoulder. “Don’t forget Lesson #10.”

  Lesson #10? What was Lesson #10?

  Ah, yes. Lesson #10: Don’t be honest about what you want in the first seven days. Chances are he’ll give you what you need for a lifetime if he’s the one.

  Lie? To Hank? Her gut rebelled. Her head, however, had an agenda no amount of gut-clenching could put off. “A blonde, huh?”

  He surveyed the vine and admitted, “My daughter,” the same way one might admit they had a haircut appointment at four.

  What? If eggs could faint, hers did.

  A child meant a mother. Ring or no ring. “So...you’re married?” Had she kept butt-crack’s telephone number?

  “Divorced. I have custody.” Matter-of-fact. Farm boy straightforward.

  What? The eggs sat up.

  “Oh, that’s—” Wonderful. “—too bad.”

  “She...uh.... My ex was an addict.” He hacked at the vine. “And a thief. She’s in prison.” His efforts increased in intensity. “But the thing she excelled at—the one thing they didn’t convict her of—was lying.”

  Lesson #10....

  If she lied to him, she’d be no better than his ex-wife.

  “I know where I’ve seen that woman in red before.” Hank turned to Julia, comprehension in his eyes, which was better than ridicule, if truth be told. “She sits at the Love Advice table.”

  “Yes.”

  “You paid for her advice.”

  Lesson #10....

  “Yes.”

  He looked dubious. “Was it worth it?”

  “Yes.” It’d brought him to her. In a day, she’d come to like his straight-from-the-hip personality. It didn’t hurt that he had broad shoulders and a killer smile.

  His dubious gaze turned distant. “So you’re looking for someone?”

  “I’m thirty.” The statement shouldn’t make her want to squirm. If she held to the book’s advice to the letter she wouldn’t admit any more. A man should understand the importance of thirty to a woman. “I...uh...”

  Shut up, said the eggs.

  “I want children and my eggs.... Because cancer runs in my family, I’ve been advised the best chance for me to avoid the Big C is to....” Follow in the footsteps of Angelina Jolie.

  “Oh.”

  A smart woman would stop the bleeding there.

  Be smart, be smart, be smart, chanted the eggs.

  “I’m going to harvest my eggs. I plan to fertilize the ones without the cancer mutation and carry at least one baby to term before I have to lose all my original equipment.” She gestured from breasts to hip. “Men probably won’t want a shell of a woman.”

  “Oh.” Not: Oh, I’m your man. Let me carry you off on a white steed and save you from being barren in a snake-filled garden.

  “Hey, Julia. I need a signature.” Rick, the FedEx man, was standing in the doorway if his voice was any indication.

  Julia didn’t look. She only had eyes for Hank, who looked as if he’d eaten a bite of sour lemon cake. Or as if he thought the Love Lady sold mumbo-jumbo or love potion perfume. That look and his daughter stopped her from saying: I was hoping to fall in love with a man who wanted a family immediately, just like me.

  Hank was just another frog.

  Julia felt hollow as she trotted up the steps and greeted Rick with air kisses (because he was single, even if he was the town Casanova), signed for the package, and then put it on the chair.

  When she turned around, Hank was busy cutting back the vines.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Julia claimed to be looking for love, but it seemed she just wanted a sperm donor.

  Hank wasn’t on the market. Not for love. Not for any more progeny.

  Love was messy. And unreliable. And heartbreaking.

  Not only was Hank too busy to date, he also had a rule about Kimmy. He didn’t want to begin seeing a woman and have her disappear from Kimmy’s life if things didn’t work out. When Nicole fell into addiction and robbed the credit union she worked for, his life had fallen apart. He hadn’t seen the signs. But he had seen the fall out.

  Julia greeted him to the job the next day in blue jeans and an Elvis T-shirt, looking more garden-worker-ish than princess-ish. He respected that. And her smile. It was golden, that smile. It said: Forget being a hermit and take a chance.

  Hank had used up all his chances with Nicole.

  “What’s on the agenda today, boss?” Julia asked with forced enthusiasm. They hadn’t talked much yesterday after her revelation that she was looking for a man and a family on a timetable with a fast-ticking clock.

  Hank was here to do a job. Julia’s personal issues could not come into the picture. “We need to pull up the flagstone and prep for concrete.”

  Julia stared at the flagstone patio. “These stones look heavy.”

  “They are.” As heavy as his heart. Julia’s impetuous idea would probably never come to fruition. She’d never know the joys of being a parent to a child of her genes. But he couldn’
t help her. “If you want to have a fashion show back here you can’t risk your models twisting their ankle on uneven stones.”

  “I suppose that’s logical.” When everything about her dreams weren’t. “Flagstone in the wheelbarrow?”

  He nodded, handing her a screwdriver. “Use it as a pry bar.”

  She bent and got to work.

  That was it? She wasn’t going to bring up the topic of sperm donor or love interest? She wasn’t going to look at him with a grin that invited him to focus on his needs for once instead of Kimmy’s?

  Glory hallelujah!

  “I wonder how Kermit is doing with the Love Lady.” There was a sad note in her voice.

  Hank sat back on his heels. “If you wanted to keep the frog, why didn’t you say so?”

  “I’ve never had a frog before.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know how to take care of it.”

  “You’ve never had a baby before, but that hasn’t stopped you from wanting one.” He regretted the hurtful words as soon as he spoke them.

  Julia’s wistful expression and sad tone didn’t change. “My sister had two children before she developed cancer and learned she had the mutated gene. Her boys aren’t carriers.” She glanced at him with eyes brimming with sadness and hope. “She’s not alone at night, although she’s divorced.”

  “It’s exhausting being a single parent.” And lonely, even if you weren’t alone.

  “I know.” Julia’s gaze dropped to her gloves. She plucked at one finger. “But...I used to play house when I was a girl. I always carried around a baby. I’ve always imagined being married and having a houseful of rambunctious, loud kids.”

  He should stop the conversation now. He didn’t. “Did you also imagine a husband?”

  “Not always.” Her smile was tinged with regret, the way people smiled when they realized they’d lost dreams. “What about you? Guys don’t seem to dream of much but being a sports star.”

  That was the problem with asking people questions. You opened yourself up to questioning right back. “I wanted the family and the picket fence. The whole nine yards.” He’d thought Nicole was his soulmate.

  “What happened?”

  “We got married young. And my wife never grew up.” Hank hesitated, the sense of loss and failure bitter in his throat. “She went from recreational marijuana to smoking meth. That drug stole the soul of our marriage. That drug compelled her to steal from the credit union she worked for. She’s not getting out of prison for a long, long time.”