“That’s Mrs. Hanson to you,” the old man retorted. “And no, she ain’t here. So if you were hopin’ to annoy her, you’re plumb out of luck. She’s gone for the day. Maybe longer, for all I know. Could be gone weeks. Maybe she finally went off on that fancy vacation her friends have been urgin’ her to take.”
Grady concluded the exaggeration was meant for his benefit. He should have seen for himself that she wasn’t around. That heap of hers was gone. Maybe he’d just been hoping someone had come and towed it off to the junkyard where it belonged.
“Seriously,” he said, “did she say when she’ll be back?”
The two men exchanged a look, then the older one shook his head with obvious reluctance. “Not to me, she didn’t.”
“Me, either,” the younger one said.
“I imagine she did leave you with chores to do, though, didn’t she?” Grady said pointedly.
“That she did,” the old man agreed.
Even so, for a minute Grady thought they might stand right there for the rest of the day to keep an eye on him. But eventually their sense of duty overcame their suspicions and they wandered away, the old man still muttering under his breath about the nerve of some people.
Ironically, Grady was actually relieved by their reaction. It meant there were people looking out for Karen, people who had her best interests at heart, even if they were sadly misguided where he was concerned.
Or maybe not, he thought wryly. Maybe they had it just right. His intentions weren’t quite as honorable as he’d made them out to be. It would be wise if all of them remembered that, himself included.
He went back to work, contenting himself with the progress he was making in scraping off the old paint. That was why he’d come, after all. He wasn’t here to see Karen Hanson with her big blue, vulnerable eyes and kissable lips.
And pigs flew, he thought with a sigh as his gaze strayed time and again toward the driveway where he hoped to catch a glimpse of her beat-up old truck kicking up a plume of dust.
But as night fell, there was still no sign of Karen. Even though the two men had told him she’d gone out, Grady knocked on the door in case they’d merely been trying to throw him off, but there was no answer. No welcoming lights came on in the kitchen as it grew darker.
He poured himself a last cup of coffee from his thermos and settled into the shadows of the front porch to wait for her return. He was grateful for his sheepskin-lined jacket as the air turned cold. There was the scent of snow in it, though a blizzard hadn’t been predicted before the following week.
As the minutes ticked by, he was tempted to throw in the towel and leave, but he stayed right where he was. He couldn’t explain why he was so determined to hang around until Karen’s return. He felt sure he wouldn’t like the answer if he tried.
When Karen drove up at last, the headlights cut through the darkness, clearly outlining him in the rocker. She turned off the pickup’s engine, but she didn’t emerge. He could just imagine her sitting there, battling irritation…or maybe even temptation. Was she struggling with it the same way he was?
When she finally stepped from the car, slammed the door and headed his way with a brisk stride, he concluded irritation had won. He stood to meet her, eager for a battle that was bound to warm the air by several degrees.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” she asked mildly enough. “You’re too far away from the barn to claim you’re painting.”
“I was waiting for you. You were out late for a woman with so much work to do around here,” he said mildly.
“I thought you’d taken over all the hard chores,” she tossed back. “So I figured I could take a day off,” she added cheerfully.
“Is that it? My guess is you were hiding out. Surely, I don’t scare you, do I?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You annoy me, you don’t scare me. On top of that, my comings and goings are no concern of yours,” she declared with an expected flash of temper that virtually heated the chilly night air.
He concluded that he’d hit the nail on the head. She’d stayed away today to avoid him and was thoroughly exasperated that the tactic had failed.
“A lady can never have too many people worrying about her,” he said. “Not in this day and age.”
She stuffed her hands into her pockets and met his gaze evenly. “Would it surprise you to know that the only thing in my life my friends are concerned about is you?”
Grady felt his lips twitch. “Not a bit. I imagine you’ve painted a pretty dark picture of me. Your two hands certainly seemed suspicious enough when they found me here.”
“I imagine they were. Dooley and Hank were very loyal to Caleb. They look out for me.”
“There’s no need to worry about me. I’m not such a bad guy,” he asserted.
“Couldn’t prove it by me.”
“You realize, of course, that you don’t know me at all,” he reminded her yet again.
“I know enough.”
He took a step closer, admiring the fact that she didn’t back away. “Such as?”
“You’re a scoundrel and a thief,” she said flatly, dredging up old news.
Even though they’d been over this ground before, it was evident she intended to cling to that description. Maybe it was what she used to battle the undeniable sparks of attraction zinging between them even now.
He stepped closer, deliberately crowding her. She continued to stand her ground, though there was an unmistakable flash of alarm in her eyes. “Really?” he said softly. “You know that for a fact?”
“My husband said—”
He lifted his hand and brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her cheek, felt her skin heat. “Yes, you’ve quoted him before,” he said, pulling away before the gesture could
