Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ what are they doing here?”

      “I don’t know.” She closed the door of the rooting room, locked it. “I’ll take a look around in the morning when the rain stops.”

      “Don’t you mean if the rain stops?”

      Rowena caught her breath at the transformation a grin made to his face. His forehead smoothed out, his deep-set eyes twinkled, his Roman nose seemed less haughty and the belligerent chin pulled back as his lips parted, showing strong white teeth.

      He looked like a hero from an action movie.

      He looked like he was in pain.

      “Do you have a chair I can use?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “A chair,” he repeated patiently. “I need to take off these boots. They’re killing me.”

      Rowena remembered the way he’d hobbled into the room.

      “A stool.” She drew it out from under the counter. “Will that help?”

      “Anything. Ooh,” he groaned, closing his eyes and sighing with relief as he massaged toes clad in the most bilious purple socks Rowena had ever seen. He glanced at her, reading her expression. “I borrowed some of my uncles’ things. We’re not exactly the same size,” he muttered defensively.

      “Yes, I can see that.”

      She tried to swallow her laughter, but when he opened his slicker so he could more easily free his other foot, she gave up.

      “Stop laughing at me. It’s the dog’s fault.”

      “He picked the shirt?”

      “Funny girl.” He made a face. “Actually it’s Uncle Hank’s. I gave it to him for Christmas one year. I was ten, I think.” He stood, rested his feet flat on the cement floor. “Oh, the relief. I thought they were broken.”

      His pants dangled just below his knees showing a smidgen of hairy leg before the purple wool took over. Rowena lifted a hand to her mouth.

      “Oh, go ahead. Make fun of me. At least I’m warm and dry. Or I was.” He shifted the hood away from his neck, grimacing at the water that trickled down his cheek. “If I can just get home in these things without maiming myself I’ll be ecstatic.”

      “Actually, I’m usually the one plastered in mud or fertilizer. I’m sure you had a good laugh at me earlier today.”

      “I wasn’t laughing.”

      “Oh.” An awkward silence fell between them. Rowena glanced around, scrounging through her brain for something to talk about.

      “I didn’t know landscape designers got dirty.”

      “This one does.”

      “Good for you.” After a moment Connor grabbed a boot and began trying to squeeze his foot back into it. Rowena had an idea.

      “Wait a minute.” She tugged open a cupboard on the wall, pulled out the old boots that had sat there for so many years. “These were my dad’s. Maybe they’ll fit better. He’s tall like you.”

      “I guess you didn’t inherit his genes,” Connor murmured. He accepted the boots, thrust one foot inside. “Wonderful,” he pronounced with a broad grin. “I promise I’ll return them tomorrow.”

      “Don’t bother. My dad won’t be coming down for a while. There’s no rush.”

      “He’s going to be helping you?”

      “I hope so.” But she didn’t want to talk about her father, so Rowena took her raincoat from the peg on the wall and thrust her arms inside. “I’ll give you a ride home. No reason you should get any wetter.”

      Conner rose, too, and shook his head.

      “It’s all right. There’s no point in dirtying your vehicle.”

      “It’ll clean. And I want to check the mailbox, anyway.” She waited until Tobias followed Connor out the door, then locked it. She pulled open the door of her truck. “Get in, Tobias. Sit.”

      He sat very politely until Connor got in beside him. Then he laid a paw on the too-short pant leg.

      “Get down!”

      Rowena closed the door, walked around to the other side and climbed in. She started the motor, turned on the fan. Man and beast were still vying for supremacy.

      “Is Tobias a purebred?” she asked.

      “I don’t know. He belongs—belonged to my fiancée.”

      The one who’d died. She’d read about that, too.

      “Why are you asking?”

      “I had a friend who had a chocolate lab like Tobias, only she was a cross between a lab and a springer spaniel. The way Tobias jumps and bounces reminds me of Corilla.”

      “That’s a dog’s name?” His disgust was obvious. “I thought Tobias was bad.”

      “Corilla Barker Dog.”

      “Aren’t you going to tell me the meaning of Corilla?” His eyes glinted golden with barely suppressed humor.

      “Don’t ask.” She laughed at his expression. “Anyway, the only thing that worked with Corilla was to lay your hand on her head. She rode perfectly fine as long as she felt that hand on her head. Try it.”

      Connor sighed then lifted his hand and set it on the dog’s head. Immediately Tobias put his paw on the floor and sat perfectly still. Connor lifted his hand; the paw went back up.

      “Amazing.” He grinned at her.

      When he let go of his stuffiness, Connor Wingate would be fun to know. Not that she was likely to be around to watch. Rowena got the sense that once he’d done his duty to his great uncles, Connor would hightail it out of town faster than a rabbit chased by a fox. She didn’t blame him.

      She shifted gears, pressed the accelerator and eased her way out of the mud toward the paved road.

      “Look! Over there. By the cliff.”

      She followed his pointing finger, saw a flicker of light through the trees.

      “Is it a campfire?”

      “Looks like it.” She turned onto the main road and headed toward Wingate.

      “What are you going to do about it?”

      “I’ll call Bud Neely tomorrow. Ask him to come out and take a look around. If somebody’s camped there, he’ll suss them out. He’s the chief of police around here.”

      “Good.”

      Rowena dropped Connor and the dog at the door СКАЧАТЬ