Sharon Swan - Home-Grown Husband

Something about the woman now crouched at his side drew him. What exactly, he was still trying to figure out. Whatever it was, physical attraction played a major part. He was dead certain of that.

They were all but hip to hip, and he was fully aware of the scant space between them, right down to the barest inch. If he moved, just a little, he could touch her. And he had no business touching her, he knew. Or thinking what he was thinking.

He’d be far better off keeping his mind on what he was doing—or at least attempting to do.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been useless up to this point. No one could deny he’d done a thorough job of hauling the trampled mess out of Tess Cameron’s flower bed and dumping it in the trash while she retrieved a fresh batch of plants. That part had been easy. Even easier was reimbursing her—and noting the absence of any rings, wedding or otherwise, as she took his money with one hand and offered a receipt with the other.

Now came the hard part. Jordan frowned down at the hole he’d created, wondering if he should stop or keep on digging. Who knew?

“That needs to be a little larger,” his companion pointed out, glancing over at his effort.

“Right.” He dug a bit deeper and wider, then aimed for a casual tone. “That should do it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Looks good. I think some snapdragons would go well there.”

She returned to her own digging then, clearly expecting him to get on with it. Great. Jordan turned his head and studied the bunched flowers in a variety of shapes and colors lined up behind him. What the hell did a snapdragon look like? He recognized the roses. Everything else was a mystery.

“I like lots of yellow,” she added. “It makes things bright and cheerful.”

Yellow. That might be a clue. There were two varieties of mostly yellow flowers—tall, thin ones, and shorter, rounder ones. Figuring he had a fifty-fifty chance, he went with the shorter version.

“No, not the marigolds,” she told him when he set his choice in front of him. “Snapdragons.”

“Right.”

He replaced his gamble with the taller yellow version and decided luck was with him this time when she offered no objection. While she reached behind her for another plant, he carefully removed his from its plastic container and placed it in the hole. He held it with one hand and cautiously spread dirt over the roots.

Then he let it go and watched it fall over, toppling like a felled tree in the forest.

Swallowing a curse, he slid a look at his companion out of the corner of his eye and saw a thoughtful frown form as he straightened the plant.

“You haven’t done much gardening, have you?”

“No.” Which was, he told himself, the complete truth.

Her frown deepened. “How much have you done?”

He resisted the urge to sigh. The jig was up, he knew, because he wouldn’t outright lie to her. “None—until now,” he admitted, turning to look straight at her.

The frown remained. “And you offered to help me anyway. Why?”

“My dog did the damage, so it’s only fair that I help.” Again it was the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but his conscience wouldn’t bother him about it.

Gradually her frown faded as her lips curved, slowly and wryly. “Then I guess it’s time for a lesson…Jordan,” she said, using his name for the first time.

He released a quiet breath and offered silent thanks that she was taking it well. He’d seen her fuming, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. The curve of his mouth matched hers. “I’d say you’re right…Tess.”

“Okay.” She set aside the container of tiny blue flowers she held and bent over the plant he still supported. “The trick is to pack the dirt gently but firmly around the roots.” She demonstrated with gloved hands, close enough now to allow him a long whiff of a crisp, fresh fragrance he was sure came from her and not the flowers. Done with her project seconds later, and too soon, as far as everything male inside him was concerned, she leaned away again and sat back on her haunches.

“You can let it go now.”

He did, and the plant stood straight and tall.

“It’s not difficult once you get the hang of it,” she said. “My eight-year-old daughter is already a pro.”

That news brought him up short. “Your daughter? I haven’t seen a child around.” Then again, he hadn’t seen this woman either, until he’d stormed over the fence.

“Ali’s spending the summer with my parents. They live in San Diego.”

And where’s Ali’s father? He didn’t voice the question, yet something in his expression must have made it plain. At least he figured that was the case when she said, “My husband died a few years ago.” Her own expression sobered with the words.

“I’m sorry.” The reply came automatically, but he meant it, nonetheless.

“Roger was killed in a car crash.” She hesitated, as if she could have gone on to say more, then silently picked up the spray of flowers she’d put aside and began to plant them. By the time she finished, her smile, or a ghost of one, was back. “We went through some tough times, Ali and I, but we’re doing fine now. We have a good life, and I have a job I love.”

“What kind of job?”

Her smile widened as she started to dig another hole. “This kind, actually. I work for Zieglers Landscaping Service. If things go as planned, I’ll own the business before the year is out. Hank and Violet Ziegler, the current owners, are getting ready to retire and take things easier, and they’ve offered to sell it to me. The day it becomes Cameron Landscaping, I’ll be celebrating—big time.” She reached around and retrieved the plant he’d put back earlier.

Marigolds. Jordan remembered the name even as he considered what Tess Cameron had just told him. Although she’d lost her husband, this woman was clearly looking forward to the future. She couldn’t be more than thirty—probably less—yet she had her life mapped out, at least career-wise. She knew exactly where she wanted to go and fully expected to find satisfaction in the path she’d chosen.

He couldn’t help but envy her.

“I take it you know all about growing things,” he said in a bid to keep the conversation going.

She shook her head. “Not everything, not nearly, but I’ve learned my share during the years I’ve spent working on lawns all over the city.”

Leaning forward, he ignored a lone bee that buzzed by and scooped out another trowel’s worth of dirt. “So why don’t you tell me more?”

She did, and he in turn did his best to keep up with the flow of information. Flowers not only came in all shapes, colors and sizes, there were apparently different types, as well. Annuals. Perennials. Biennials.

And he’d be willing to bet none of them smelled as good as the woman beside him, he thought at one point. Still, he found himself interested, even though he knew that just yesterday, if anyone had told him he’d not only be listening to a lecture on gardening, but on his knees planting roses at the same time, he’d have called them flat-out crazy.

Time passed swiftly, and before it seemed possible they were finished. Jordan was bending over to retrieve a shovel they’d used when his instructor said, “I’ve been talking about my livelihood long enough. What do you do for a living?”

Not anything he wanted to discuss. Although he realized he should have expected it, the question had him stilling completely for an instant as he debated how to answer.

Standing beside him, Tess’s gaze sharpened as she caught that sudden total lack of movement before Jordan slowly straightened. Her question had been natural enough, she told herself, but it seemed to have made an impact, however well concealed. Another second passed before she got a reply.

“I don’t do much of anything these days,” he told her in the same casual tone he’d used for much of the afternoon. “Exploring my options, I guess you could say.”

And what did you do up till now? She couldn’t help wondering, thinking that whatever it was, it had surely not been a run-of-the-mill job. Sharing several companionable hours doing something as simply satisfying as flower tending hadn’t changed her mind about Jordan Trask. No one would ever judge him to be ordinary…including her.

She waited a moment for him to say more. He said nothing, so she turned and started for the garage with an armload of small garden tools. He followed, carrying a shovel in one hand and a fat sack of mulch with the other. Once inside, he glanced around him. “Where do you want the sack?”

“Against the wall, on the other side of the truck.” She watched as he walked in near silence around her white pickup, asking herself if anyone could move that quietly on solid concrete unless they’d been trained in the art. For a moment, her attention was so fixed on him that she didn’t even notice the short metal rake slipping from the pile she held, not until it hit the hard floor with a clatter.

In a flash, the man she viewed dropped the sack and whipped around to face her, hazel eyes narrowed and broad shoulders braced for what might come next. He looked, she thought, like a shot had just been fired, rather than a tool clattering.

Like a shot. All at once Tess got a good inkling of what Jordan Trask had done in the past. Her gaze locked with his. “Are you ex-military, or ex-police?”

As he released a lengthy breath, she could all but see him forcing himself to relax. And then he spoke so softly that the words barely reached her.

“Neither. I’m ex Border Patrol.”

Border Patrol. The words repeated in Tess’s mind. It was a long way from ordinary, even quite possibly dangerous work. She didn’t know any more than the average person, she supposed, about what was actually involved. But she knew that much.

No wonder, she told herself. No wonder he seemed a bit larger than life, as though he’d just stepped from the pages of an action novel. He’d probably seen plenty of action.

And now he had apparently chosen to give it up, let it all go, for reasons she certainly had no business asking him about. Still she couldn’t hold back one question. “How did you wind up in Harmony?”

He bent to lift the sack, then met her eyes again. “I saw an article in a travel magazine at a dentist’s office a while back. It was on bed-and-breakfasts in this area, and one of the pictures was an aerial photo of this place, with the sun shining down on it.” He paused for a beat. “I’ve got to admit it seemed a little like heaven to me.”

It must have, after the sights he’d no doubt seen hundreds of miles to the south. She could understand that, even though Tess knew the city she’d lived in for most of her life wasn’t heaven. She’d learned that the hard way when—

“So I figured I’d come and check it out,” Jordan added, breaking into memories she was far from reluctant to let go. “It didn’t take me long to decide I wanted to spend some time here.” With that, he turned away and placed the sack where she’d indicated. “What about the shovel?”

She reached down and retrieved the rake from the floor. “It goes in the storage box at the back.”

The tools were scarcely put away when thunder rumbled in the distance. “Guess I won’t have to water the new plants,” Tess said as they left the garage. The coming rain was hardly a surprise. Late-day, wind-whipped storms rolled in regularly during the summer months in Harmony, sometimes disappearing almost as quickly as they blew in.

The thick dark hair at the nape of his neck barely brushed his shirt collar as Jordan gazed up at a sky that was quickly turning murky. “I’d better be going. I should probably let the dog out to do his duty before it starts coming down. I’ll keep him on a leash until I make sure he can’t get through the fence again and create another crisis.”