Home To Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers

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Home To Wickham Falls - Rochelle  Alers

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as it is showing a specific need. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a friend’s brother who is into computers if he can offer some input. He’s a graduate of Wickham Falls’ schools, and as an alumnus his feedback may prove invaluable.”

      Logan leaned back, his gaze never wavering. “If he agrees then I don’t see why we can’t bring him on as an unpaid consultant.”

      Jessica gathered the pages with their notes, walked Logan to the door and then released Bootsy from the mudroom. She picked him up, cradling him to her chest. “Baby, you’re going to have to learn not to show your teeth at Mama’s company or they’ll think you have no home training.”

      Bootsy wiggled for her to put him down and ran into the mudroom, where his lead and harness hung from a hook on the door. Jessica doubted he needed to go out but decided to indulge him. Reaching for the can of pepper spray, she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans and put on her pet’s outside gear. At the last possible minute she picked up her cell phone and left the house.

      * * *

      The following weekend Jessica got up Saturday morning and set out patio furniture before she returned to the kitchen to prepare for food for the Memorial Day weekend get-together. While she had invited Sawyer to bring his nephews over for the backyard cookout, she had also extended the invitation to the families of her girls’-night-out colleagues, Abby, Beatrice, and Carly—who referred to themselves as the ABCs. She had also sent Rachel a text asking her to come if she wasn’t scheduled to work.

      The doorbell echoed throughout the house and seconds later Bootsy bounded into the kitchen barking loudly for her to follow him. “I’m coming, baby boy.” She knew Bootsy would continue to bark until she went to see who or what had caught his attention.

      Jessica opened the front door and her pulse skipped a beat before settling back to a normal rhythm. Sawyer stood on the porch with Rachel and his nephews. His deeply tanned face under the New York Yankees baseball cap indicated he had spent time in the sun since she last saw him. The added color illuminated eyes that reminded her of polished sapphires. Jessica still couldn’t figure out what was it about her best friend’s brother that made her feel tingly all over. She opened the door wider.

      “Welcome!” Her voice had gone up an octave and Rachel, carrying the picnic hamper, looked at her as if she had suddenly taken leave of her senses.

      “Hello, Miss Calhoun,” the boys said in unison.

      “Can we play with Bootsy?” Dylan asked.

      “Yes. But if he starts panting too hard, then please bring him inside.” As if on cue, the puppy raced after the two boys as they headed for the rear of the house. “You didn’t have to bring anything,” she told Sawyer, who cradled a plastic crate filled with beer and soft drinks to his chest.

      “Down here we’re taught never to come to someone’s home empty-handed.”

      Rachel set the hamper on the ladder-back chair in the entryway and then patted her brother’s back. “Nice talk for someone wearing a Yankees cap.”

      “Come with me, Sawyer, and I’ll show you where you can put your contraband.”

      He laughed loudly. “Damn! You ladies are cold.”

      “Sawyer! You’re going to have to watch your language,” Rachel admonished. “You keep swearing, and Dylan and Colin are going to end up with sewer mouths.”

      “Sorry about that, sis.” He followed Jessica as she led the way around the house to an expansive patio area. “Something smells real good.”

      Jessica glanced at him over her shoulder. “I hope you brought your appetite because I’m smoking brisket, ribs and chicken. I have hot dogs, burgers and links for the kids.” She pointed to a large tin tub filled with ice, bottles of beer and juice and cans of soda. “I think there’s still some room in there for your...contribution.”

      Sawyer gave her a level look. “I thought it was contraband?”

      She scrunched up her nose. “Did I say contraband and not contribution?”

      “You can’t blame it on a slip of the tongue, because you know damn well...I mean you know right well what you meant.”

      “Rachel’s right. You’re going to have to clean up your language because there’re going to be a few kids here this afternoon.”

      “How many?”

      “About six, and that includes your nephews.”

      Sawyer put bottles of beer and soda into the tub of icy water. “I suppose I spend too much time around adults.”

      “None of your friends in New York have children?”

      “No.” He stood straight, giving Jessica a long, penetrating stare, and realized she was a chameleon. The first time he’d seen her she was dressed to the nines, and then her clothes had been casual-chic at the restaurant, and now she appeared no older than a college coed with a white tank top, matching cropped pants and blue-and-white-striped espadrilles. She had covered her hair with a white bandana. And what Sawyer could not decide was which Jessica he liked best.

      Sawyer’s gaze swept over the patio that had an outdoor kitchen. “I’ve passed this house a few times but I never knew there was this much land behind it.” He deliberately changed the topic from marriage and babies because he was tired of Rachel accusing him of being selfish because he wasn’t willing to settle down. He had time to find that special woman with whom to share his life.

      “It’s a little more than an acre,” Jessica said.

      “What I do remember is the owners had their own garden and sold most of what they grew.”

      “The greenhouses are still here. They’re hidden behind the trees, and they’re the reason I bought this place.”

      His eyebrows lifted. “You’re kidding.”

      “Nope. I grow all of my fruits, vegetables and flowers.”

      “The flowers you sent my father were from your garden?”

      “Yes. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see him when I went to the hospital because he was with his therapist at the time, so I just left them along with a card.”

      Folding his arms over his chest, Sawyer angled his head. Jessica was more an enigma than he had originally thought. Somehow he could not imagine a twenty-first-century thirty-something career woman farming. “I still can’t believe you grow your own flowers and produce.”

      “The next time you come over I’ll give you a tour.”

      “Will there be a next time?” he asked. He schooled his expression not to reveal the anticipation that Jessica would invite him to her home again.

      “I’m certain there’ll be.”

      Sawyer successfully hid a smile behind an expression of indifference. Jessica’s offer for him to come back to her home was definitely a pleasant surprise and totally unexpected.

      “Is there anything else I can do to help out before the others get here?”

      “No.

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