“Maybe you ought to go after all,” I said.
He turned and ran.
The cat dashed into the woods behind the house. BeBe followed it. I followed her.
Kit whistled, but BeBe wasn’t listening. “What happened?” he yelled to me.
I thought it was fairly obvious, so I didn’t answer.
The shady woods were full and thick with greenery.
Everything from honeysuckle vines to squishy mushrooms covered the ground. Breathing hard, I hopped over a small creek and was relieved to see BeBe circling a large buckeye tree.
I bent at the waist, drawing in oxygen.
Kit powered through the woods and grabbed hold of BeBe’s leash. He looked at me. “Time for a trip to the gym?”
“Ha.” Gasp. “Ha.”
BeBe apparently noticed my presence for the first time because she ran over and slobbered my face. “Eww!”
“She just loves you.”
I shot Kit a look.
“Nina!” Coby yelled from the edge of the woods.
I walked toward him, noticing he looked a bit piqued.
“What’s wrong?”
He pointed to an older man standing near the house. “He wants to talk to you.”
I didn’t recognize him. I just hoped he wasn’t another homeowners’ official. Using the back of my hand, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, the drool from my face, and hurried down the hill.
I noticed two things right off. The man held a Growl take-Digging Up Trouble
41
out bag in his hand (it’s hard to miss being all black with bright yellow lettering), and he didn’t look well at all. He was shouting at Marty.
“What is going on here? This is private property!” Sweat beaded on his brow. “Who are you people? No one gave permission for this!”
My lungs burned. Maybe a trip to the gym wasn’t such a bad idea. Pulling in a shallow breath, I said, “I’ll take care of this, Marty.”
Next, I tried for a soothing tone. “Sir, calm down.”
The take-out bag crinkled in his closed fist. “Don’t tell me to calm down, little lady. This is America. I can be as
Kit snorted from behind me. I turned and gave him the evil eye. Even BeBe ducked behind Kit’s legs.
The man stomped across the cracked cement patio, threw open the back door of the house, and disappeared inside.
The house I was quickly suspecting did not belong to the Lockharts.
I felt sick.
“Greta!” he yelled, his voice thunderous.
Uh-oh. Was he yelling for his dog . . . or his wife?
I felt
He came back out a second later without the take-out bag, both fists clenched tight, like he was ready to take a swing.
Sweat dripped from his receding hairline. He looked hot yet cold at the same time. Sweating yet pale.
Stepping back, I wondered if I had any degerminator in my truck. The man obviously had the flu or something.
He bellowed, “I come home from work not feeling well, just wanting some rest, relaxation, and a little soup, and this is what I find! People desecrating my yard! What is going 42
Heather Webber
on?” Color sat high on his hollow cheekbones, standing out against his pale skin.
“Surprise!” I said. “I’m Nina Quinn, owner of Taken by Surprise, Garden Designs. I was hired to makeover this backyard.”
“Hired! By who?”
I didn’t think this was the time to correct his grammar. I gulped. I’d been hired by Lindsey Lockhart to surprise her husband.
