he does exactly, except that it’s something he can do at home. And that was the point, that he could make a good living and yet still be available for his kids-because by that time, Debbie sure wasn’t much of a mother.”
They both glanced up when the door opened, but it was just Killer pushing his nose in, looking for Camille. Three cats promptly leaped to tall shelves. Violet said quietly, “I think Pete really knew she was playing around quite a while before she took off.”
Camille ignored Killer, ignored the cats, ignored the ribbons. She blurted out, “I just can’t believe any woman would play around on Pete.”
“Neither can I.” Violet finished another breathtakingly artistic arrangement. Of course, she left enough of a mess to fill a trash truck, but neither woman was paying attention by then, anyway. “It’s not as if Pete and I ever clicked. We didn’t. But I still always thought he was a hunk. Not just because he’s good-looking, you know? But because some guys just come across as…”
“Male with a capital
“Yeah, exactly. You can just look and know some guys will be good lovers, some won’t. It’s in their eyes. It’s in how they move. You can just tell they like sex-”
“Um, Vi. All men like sex. They come out of the womb reaching for a boob.”
Violet grinned. “Well, I know that. But I meant…some men like the pleasure of it, the touching, all of it, not just the getting-off part.” She paused. “That’s theory, of course. Everything I learned wrong about sex, I learned from Simpson. Anyway-”
“Anyway,” Camille echoed.
“The point is, Pete seemed to lose all his spirit after Debbie left. He turned into a complete Sobersides. I don’t mean there’s anything to criticize. Cripes, he’s a football dad, Boy Scout leader, volunteer for anything in the community involving kids. But ask him to a party, and he’s got a dozen excuses why he can’t go. And they say in town that he never goes out, no matter what woman’s tried chasing him. He’s just seemed to lose his pizzazz, you know?”
No, she hadn’t known.
But as she trudged back home, she felt more troubled than ever that they’d made love. It was one thing for her to do something insane in a moment of impulse-and wild chemistry-but another for her to risk hurting someone else. Violet had made her see Pete as far more vulnerable than showed on the surface. For damn sure, he didn’t need a woman in his life who he couldn’t trust, not after what his ex-wife had put him through.
She was within yards of the cottage when she heard the unexpected roar of engines. Killer paid no attention. The dog was used to the sound of trucks and tractors. And so was Camille-but not coming from anyone on Campbell land, much less from the direction of the lavender field.
She hustled to the top of the knoll, where she tried to sort out the commotion. Pete’s white truck glinted in the sun on the far side of the field. Strangers were milling all over the place. Three truckloads of mulch were being dumped up and down the rows of lavender, and then tractors with blades were pushing the mulch closer to the plants, with workers pitchforking it directly under the plants from there.
Her jaw didn’t drop in complete shock-because she already knew Pete was capable of massive interfering. But knowing that he was a hopelessly take-charge kind of guy and realizing he’d become even more embroiled in helping her were two different things. She hurled down the hill with her scowl and her vicious dog, practicing dire threats under her breath until she could catch up to deliver them in person.
Initially his back was to her-he was speaking Spanish to a man in a plaid shirt who obviously worked for Pete. When the small man noticed her, he gestured quickly, which was all it took for Pete to spin around.
“Hi, Cam…Camille, this is big Al. He’s been my farm foreman for a bunch of years. And Al, this is Camille Campbell.”
“Nice to meet you, Al.” She shook his hand, then whipped around to Pete. “MacDougal, I want a word with you.”
“Sure, I-”
He knew perfectly well she was susceptible to his smiles. He knew perfectly well what they’d done the last time he’d smiled at her like that. He couldn’t be glad to see her. No one was glad to see an ornery curmudgeon with a chronic case of PMS who was neurotic to the nth degree. He also didn’t find her attractive. No man could find a woman attractive who’d abandoned nail files and lipstick and grooming and was wearing clothes so big they’d smother a shroud.
She was already worried about him, and now that smile of his worried her even more. What if her hermit-type insanity was infectious? What kind of influence could she be on him or for him if he started behaving as sick and demented as she was?
Her forefinger poked him in the chest. “What in the Sam Hill do you think you’re doing?”
“Damn. I figured you’d take one look and know. You mean, you can’t recognize mulch?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t mess with me, MacDougal.”
He didn’t look repentant for teasing her, but he sidetracked to more direct information. “I checked the pH a couple days ago. You’re fine there, although you’ll probably want to put on some lime in the fall. The mulch was critical, though, Cam. Thursday, we’re forecast a major rain. Obviously you wouldn’t normally mulch with the plants starting to bud and you still hustling to get the pruning done. But you’ve got a decent chance at a crop, at least if you can bolster the drain-ability-”
“
“I’m paying for it.”
“No, you’re not,” she said.
“Yeah, I am. Your sister agreed.”
Camille pushed a startled hand through her hair. “Violet agreed to let you pay for this?”
“She agreed to let me temporarily help you two out of a mess. You’re doing the lion’s share of the work. But obviously there are a couple things you can’t do totally on your own.” He scratched his chin. “I’m having a case of deja vu. Didn’t we already have this exact fight before?”
He was having fun. Too much fun, she decided. “I’m going to punch your lights out. Do you remember that part of the fight from before?”
“I remember the threat.” His eyes glinted at her again. He seemed to remember exactly what he’d done with the threat the last time.
“Pete. You should have told us you were doing this. Not just shown up with strangers.”
“Whoa.” Pete turned sober, glanced at the workers to make sure the project was progressing, and then steered her deeper into the shadows of the maple. “Cam, I did tell Violet. She knew I was bringing in the mulch. I really wouldn’t have just shown up with a crew unannounced-no matter how bossy you think I am. I only moved fast because of the weather. If we really get three or four inches of heavy rain before this is mulched, you could ruin the crop.”
“You told Violet,” she repeated.
“Yeah. Because we both discussed that Violet needed to be consulted on what her plans were. And her idea was to pay me from the crop profits, so there was no charity involved.”
“MacDougal, don’t try selling horse spit to a horse owner. My sister doesn’t have a clue how she’s going to harvest this or what she’s going to do with it.”
“Yeah, I got that impression, too. She went on and on about how she loved the lavender, but some days, trying to get a commonsense answer out of her is an uphill job.”
“Don’t you start on my sister!”
“I’m just trying to be straight with you. She’s all excited, full of pipe dreams, but I couldn’t get a realistic plan out of her-and apparently you couldn’t either. The thing is, you’re working your tail off, and whether your sister gets a clue about the situation or not, certain things are cut-and-dried. You’ve got a shot at a crop and some long-term profit-
