“How can I help?” he said in a husky voice.

Lydia shook her head. “I’m sorry, what—oh, with the computer. Ah, I’m good. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. It’s lawn sculpture—but I’ll get another one to use.”

As her voice drifted off, she reflected that people really didn’t meet each other’s stares very often, did they. At least not like this.

“That’s a really ugly lawn.”

“Huh?” She tried to catch up with their conversation. “Oh, right. I made a joke. But don’t worry, it wasn’t that funny.”

“I wouldn’t know.” And yet he smiled as he got to his feet. “So where do you want me to start?”

Talk about a loaded question. And now that Daniel was back on the vertical, it was impossible not to have her eyes travel up his body. He had on dark blue jeans again, and another flannel shirt, and the same loose black leather jacket he’d put next to him on the seat in the diner the night before. Yet everything seemed like a revelation. No, a revolution … in men’s fashion.

Okay, she was losing it.

“How’s your bike doing?” she blurted.

“Good, I guess. I’m waiting for Paul to call and bring it over.”

“So you really did walk to work.”

“Sure did.”

Lydia frowned. “Paul isn’t waiting for a UPS delivery of that part he needs, by any chance?”

“He said one of his buddies was passing through and was bringing it.”

“Good, you’ve got half a chance.” Lydia held up her forefinger. “A piece of advice. Don’t ask Candy about deliveries. You’ll barely make it out of the conversation alive—at this point, I think UPS avoids us because they’re scared of her.”

“Good tip, thanks.”

“And as for starting, the security lights are out,” she said. “In the front of the building and all down the side. Let me take you to the equipment building where the bulbs are. There’s also a leak in the roof out there I’d like you to take a look at? Then later today, we’ll go over the map of the trails, and I’ll show you where the broken bridges are. I was out in the preserve earlier this week taking an inventory. Oh, and the ATV has a leak in the fuel tank—or at least that’s what the sheriff said when he towed it back yesterday?”

“I’ll handle everything.”

She got to her feet. “You know, I really like your attitude.”

As well as the size of your shoulders, she thought to herself.

As she came around the desk, she tripped on the toe of her trail shoe—and Daniel caught her arm as her weight lurched forward.

“You okay?” he said as their eyes met once again.

“Oh, I’m fine.” God, he smelled good. “Thanks—”

A head of short pink hair whipped around into the doorway. And stopped dead.

Lydia yanked back. “Hi, Candy—”

“Well, I was going to ask what was on fire—”

“Daniel Joseph is going to be joining us as our groundskeeper, starting today.” Lydia tried to smile while also shooting don’t-you-dare-finish-that-fire-comment signals. “Peter hired him last night.”

“Did he? From his Barcalounger at home?” The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Multitasking with a bowl of popcorn on his lap while he surfs Netflix. Wow. So what was burning in here?”

Okay, wow. Candy was so going to need a refresher on office decorum.

“My computer spontaneously combusted,” Lydia muttered.

“Well, Mr. Wynne’s is free. Take his. ’Cuz guess what?”

“What?”

“He’s not coming in again. I just got a message on my voice mail.” The woman turned away. “I’m starting coffee if anybody needs it.”

 

Two hours later, the sun was warm on Daniel’s back as he hammered nails on the equipment building’s cedar roof. The structure was big enough to house a family of four, and even had a galley kitchen and shower. It was also a museum and an archaeological dig and a hardware store: There were jelly jars full of every nail or screw that Daniel had ever seen. Tools that ranged from the generic, like hammers and screwdrivers, to the obscure—and possibly medical, as far as he could tell. There was also a mother lode of two-by-fours, plywood sheets, concrete blocks, random tree trunks, a set of stairs, three mystery trunks that he had yet to open, and the carcass of a Chevy big block that seemed to be used as a cup holder.

Everything had a coating of dust on it, but nothing didn’t work.

Well, except for the hollowed-out car engine, and again, even that was functional, its piston holes plugged with Slurpee plastic cups that were stained red.

So yup, he’d found the roll of tar paper he’d needed to patch the hole in the roof, along with the necessary hammer and nail combo, and three spare shingles to replace the ones that had been storm damaged—

The movement registered over to the left and he stopped in mid-swing, his keen eyes tracking the intrusion into his visual field.

On the far side of the office building, a figure emerged out into the sunlight, crossing to the shallow porch’s balustrade and staring through the trees to the valley’s distant lake.

His body knew who it was before his eyes informed him it was Lydia Susi.

And that was a problem.

Just like that moment they’d had at her desk. And the one from the night before. And the instant he’d first met her.

As his thoughts devolved into a crystal clear image of her sitting in her office chair and looking up his body, he was unaware of lowering the hammer. The good news was that his mind moved on from that once-over she’d given him. The bad news was that he merely traded that for a preoccupation with the woman herself as she leaned into the railing and continued to focus on the far-off.

The view was obscured—or at least, hers was. His was just fine, considering he didn’t care about the lake down below or the mountains on the other side of the valley. Nope, the woman was enough of a landscape for him, everything from her profile to her shoulders and back to the curve of her ass and her long legs more than enough for his eyes to linger on. And he decided it was a shame she’d traded her running tights in for loose trail pants with pockets on the sides.

Yet her mood was also something to take note of. Even as the warm breeze toyed with the blond wisps around her face, and birds chirped sweetly beside her, she was a study in conflict: She was clearly arm wrestling something or someone in her head. And he wondered if it was herself.

She’d lied about putting the computer in the tin days before. He’d watched her do that last night.

Kind of ironic that he’d been spying on her while she’d obviously been setting up her tower to self-destruct overnight.

Putting the hammer down, he hand-and-foot’d it down the roof slope and jumped off over the gutter, landing on the ground with a bounce. As he walked to the main building, he jacked up his jeans and ran a hand through his hair. His boots were heavy, but he made sure they were silent as he hit the damp gravel, and when he transitioned onto the grass, he lowered his head so that as he passed in front of the windows of the waiting room, that receptionist with the pink hair would think he was busy with something important.