excited. He knows all about Simon Adams boots. He sure admires your work even if he can’t afford your cowboy boots.”
“I try to adjust my prices for customers,” Simon said, his tone defensive even if he’d worked to sound neutral. “I build a basic boot that’s fairly reasonable.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I do need to get him something for Father’s Day.”
Father’s Day for an uncle? Interesting. “Too late for this year. I’ll be doing good if I get to the orders I’m working on for Christmas.”
“It’s amazing, what you do,” she said, the sincerity in her eyes making Simon think they’d somehow gone past sparring with each other to actually having a conversation. “Your brother brags on your work all the time.”
“He just likes the customers my boots bring into the general store.”
She grinned at that. “Well, it’s nice to be able to get sized for a custom-made pair of boots, I guess.”
“I do off-the-shelf boots, too. You know, for the general public. Less expensive.”
“Really? Maybe I will be able to afford a pair for my uncle after all. He’d love that.”
Simon would make sure her uncle got his boots, if he had to sneak around and get the man’s measurements himself. He didn’t know why that mattered, but he could be nice when the mood struck him. And looking into her eyes somehow did make him want to be nice.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone full of distrust.
“Man, do I scare you that much?”
“You don’t scare me one bit,” she replied, her hands on her hips. “But I’m pretty sure I scare you. We all scare you. You know, you could be a good example to these kids. Come on out and play with us sometime, maybe? Tell us about your craft, measure some feet for boots—just for fun.”
“I don’t know about that.” Simon patted Shiloh, the steam gone out of his need to pick at her. But the image of her dainty little feet being measured for boots brought logic back into his brain. “I guess I’d better head back and close down the shop.”
She nodded then cooed at Shiloh, the sound of her gentle words making a funny little shiver do its own two-step down Simon’s backbone.
“You can send Shiloh over anytime.”
The dare was back and he couldn’t resist it. “And what about me? Am I invited back for s’mores next time you have a picnic?”
She seemed shocked, her expressive eyes widening. “I thought you’d rather not share in our little picnics out here. Or any other part of our happenings here for that matter.”
She had him there. He’d made it pretty clear he wanted to be left alone. “I’d rather not have to put out another fire but I like hotdogs.”
“Maybe next time then.” She turned to spin away then whirled back around. “Hey, your mom is coming later to cook spaghetti. You’re welcome to join us.”
His mother made the best spaghetti. Thick, rich sauce with fat meatballs. Garlic bread. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had her spaghetti.
“I’d better not—”
They both turned at the sound of a vehicle moving up the winding drive.
His mother. And she had Rick and Cari in the truck with her. Great. Just great. Too late to make a hasty getaway.
“Looks like that’s them now. They’re early,” Shanna said, waving in glee. “Your mother wanted to get a head start, I guess.” Shiloh took off, barking his delight.
While Simon stood there, busted and embarrassed. Because he knew his overly-zealous mother would jump to the wrong conclusion.
But Simon didn’t have to worry too much about his mother’s assumptions regarding him being caught here talking, no, actually flirting, with a pretty woman.
Oh, no. He knew he was in for some serious ribbing when his brother emerged from the big truck with a grin splitting his face.
“I see you’ve met Shanna,” Rick said, slapping Simon on his back so hard Simon nearly pitched forward.
Wanting to throttle Rick the way he’d done—well, tried to do—all during their growing-up days, Simon took a breath and counted to ten, thankful Shanna was now laughing and talking to Cari and his mother. “I came over to retrieve your dog.”
Rick let out a snort. “Didn’t look like you were in any kind of hurry to take Shiloh home to me.”
“I’m leaving—right now.”
“Yeah, right.” Rick gave him a long hard look. “I do believe I see a sparkle in my old brother’s eyes. Coming to talk to the pretty lady—there’s a new concept.”
Simon wished he’d stayed inside. “I had to be polite, now, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t think you knew how to be polite.”
Gayle walked up, her smile sure and steady. “I saw you talking to Shanna. Isn’t she the nicest girl?”
Nice. But certainly not a girl. A woman. Simon had flirted with a woman for the first time since Marcy’s death. And that thought alone was enough to sober him into being his old anti-social self.
“Real nice. So nice she just about burned down the woods and the cabin the other afternoon.”
With that, he turned and stomped back toward his workshop, leaving his mother and his brother staring a hole through his back.
But when he turned at the door, the only person he saw in the late afternoon sunshine was Shanna White.
And he also saw the hurt, confused look in her eyes, too. But he told himself it didn’t bother him.
Not one bit.
Chapter Four
Three hours later, Simon heard a knock at his door.
He looked out the window but ignored the knock. His brother knocked again.
“What?” he said, opening the door to glare at Rick.
“Get that scowl off your face and come on over for dinner,” Rick replied, dragging Simon out by the arm.
“I’m not hungry.”
“It’s Mom’s spaghetti. So I don’t believe you. In fact, I bet you’ve been standing there, sniffing in the wind for the scent of rich Georgia tomatoes and a little basil and olive oil. Am I right?”
Simon couldn’t deny it. With all the windows thrown open to the fresh air, he’d taken a sniff or two of the good smells coming from the cabin across the way. His mother let it simmer for hours, making it rich and sweet and good. She knew it was one of his favorite meals.
“Okay,
