Connor shook his head. “That wasn’t even subtle, Dad. You must be losing your touch.”
“No. Just tired of wasting time. I’m thinking the direct approach is called for. You going to be there or not?”
“Since you’re spending my money, I’ll be there,” Connor assured him.
And he wouldn’t mind the chance to spend a little time with Heather so he could float some of his theories about her sudden reluctance to marry him. It might be good to do that with his dad around to referee in case she took exception to his attempt to psychoanalyze her. She might thoroughly enjoy dissecting his psyche, but he had a hunch she wasn’t going to be quite so receptive to having the tables turned.
* * *
The July day dawned with temperatures already near eighty and the humidity levels just as high. Only a faint breeze stirring through the trees kept it from being unbearably oppressive. And yet, Heather thought, as she sat in the shade in a chair Mick had thoughtfully brought along, it was pleasant enough. She could already imagine sitting out here with a book on a summer afternoon. In fact, it would be lovely to have a screened-in gazebo right in this spot, with a view of the water and protection against the mosquitoes.
She’d just swatted viciously at another one when Connor drove up. He frowned as he crossed the yard. “What was Dad thinking, letting you sit out here to get eaten alive by the bugs?” he grumbled.
“He was thinking it would be cooler than inside the house, to say nothing of safer,” she replied. “He doesn’t seem to have any more faith in the flooring than you did when we first saw this place.”
Connor shook his head. “You should have stayed in his truck with the air-conditioning running.”
“That from a man who preaches about going green,” she responded. “I’m fine. Stop fussing over me.”
He sighed. “I’m always going to fuss over you. You should hear the way Dad goes on about Mom all the time. I think it comes with the territory.”
“What territory is that?” she asked, studying him curiously.
“Loving someone.” Before she could challenge that, he added, “You fuss over little Mick, don’t you? It’s the same thing.”
“He’s a child, Connor. I’m not.”
He shook his head. “Then you don’t mind the bugs? Fine with me. I was going to at least offer you the can of spray I keep in the car, but if you’re not interested…”
Heather wanted to remain stubbornly silent, but the landing of another mosquito on her arm and one on her leg forced her to reconsider. “I’ll take the spray,” she said grudgingly.
“Now you’re being sensible,” he praised, trotting off to his car and returning with the bottle of insect repellant. “Let me.” He squirted the stuff over every inch of bared skin, then gave a nod of satisfaction. “Now, tell me what you and Dad have decided.”
“Nothing yet. The last time I saw him, he was holding the pictures I’d shown him and walking around muttering to himself.”
Connor laughed. “The creative genius at work. The good news is I guarantee he’ll come back here with rough sketches that will blow your mind. He showed me a few preliminary drawings last night, so I’m sure he’s in there right now refining those. For all of the issues I’ve had with my father over the years, I can’t deny he’s one of the best architects around.”
Heather lifted her gaze and dared to meet his eyes. “Connor, I don’t want to take advantage of you. Your dad insisted that I make suggestions about what I want, but this really is your house. It feels wrong for me to have any say at all.”
“We both know I have no sense of design or color,” Connor reminded her. “Remember when you said you wanted little Mick’s room to be yellow and I came home with paint that looked like the mustard that goes on hot dogs at the ball park?”
Heather smiled at the memory. “That should have been a warning,” she agreed. “And yet I still sent you out to get the green paint for the living room. If we’d used what you brought back, it would have been like living inside a Christmas tree.”
He shrugged. “Well, who knew there were so many shades of green? You said something about sage. I figured herbs are all bright green. What do I know?”
“So you got a couple of things wrong. The point is that this house should be a reflection of what you want.”
He held her gaze. “I want what you want. What’s it going to take to convince you of that?”
“Spending thousands of dollars according to my preferences is helping,” she told him, only partially in jest. “But, Connor, you do know we’re not going to be living here together, right?”
He remained stubbornly silent, so she continued, “Now that you’re back in Chesapeake Shores for good, it makes sense that you’d want a home of your own, but you shouldn’t fix this house up with the idea that I’ll love it so much, I’ll move in. That would be crazy, for both of us.”
Rather than taking offense as she’d feared he might, he dropped down to the ground beside her, then looked up. “Tell me something.”
She regarded him with suspicion. “What?”
“How’s it been having your mother here?”
Heather was completely thrown by the change of topic. “It’s been good. I’d missed her. Why do you ask?”
“How long is she planning to stay?”
“I’m not really sure,” she said. “She’s not bad-mouthing you every second of the day and night, if that’s worrying you.”
“Never crossed my mind,” he claimed. “What about your dad? He still hasn’t been over here to visit, has he?”
“No.” She gave him a puzzled look. “Connor, where are you going with this? Why the sudden interest in my family?”
He met her gaze. “Honestly? I’m wondering if maybe that situation isn’t coloring the way you’re looking at the possibility of a real future
