hers now, and her responsibility. No one was going to say that Grace
Monroe couldn't tend her own.
She kept the ancient secondhand lawn mower under an equally ancient drop
cloth. As usual, she checked the gas level first, casting another glance
over her shoulder to be certain Aubrey was still tucked in the sandbox.
Gripping the starter cord with both hands, she yanked. And got a
wheezing cough in response.
"Come on, don't mess with me this morning." She'd lost count of the
times she'd fiddled and repaired and banged on the old machine. Rolling
her protesting shoulders, she yanked again, then a third time, before
letting the cord snap back and pressing her fingers to her eyes.
"Wouldn't you just know it."
"Giving you trouble?"
Her head jerked around. After their argument the night before, Ethan was
the last person Grace expected to see standing in her backyard. It
didn't please her, particularly since she'd told herself she could and
would stay mad at him. Worse, she knew how she looked--old gray shorts
and a T-shirt that had seen too many washings, not a stitch of makeup
and her hair uncombed.
Damn it, she'd dressed for yard work, not for company.
"I can handle it." She yanked again, her foot, clad in a sneaker with a
hole in the toe, planted on the side of the machine. It nearly caught,
very nearly.
"Let it rest a minute. You're just going to flood it."
This time the cord snapped back with a dangerous hiss. "I know how to
start my own lawn mower."
"I imagine you do, when you're not mad." He walked over as he spoke, all
lean and easy male in faded jeans and a work shirt rolled up to his
elbows.
He had come around back when she didn't answer her door. And he knew
he'd stood watching her a little longer than was strictly polite. She
had such a pretty way of moving.
He had decided sometime during the restless night that he had better
find a way to make amends. And he'd spent a good part of his morning
trying to figure how to do so. Then he'd seen her, all those long, slim
limbs the sun was turning pale gold, the sunny hair, the narrow hands.
And he'd just wanted to watch for a bit.
"I'm not mad," she said in an impatient hiss that proved her statement a
lie. He only looked into her eyes.
"Listen, Grace--"
"Eeee-than!" With a shriek of pure pleasure, Aubrey scrambled out of the
sandbox and ran to him--full-out, arms extended, face lit up with joy.
He caught her, swung her up and around. "Hey, there, Aubrey."
"Come play."
"Well, I'm--"
"Kiss."
She puckered her little lips with such energy that he had to laugh and
give them a friendly peck.
"Okay!" She wiggled down and ran back to her sandbox.
"Look, Grace, I'm sorry if I was out of line last night."