U-Haul truck had been backed into the driveway. The cargo door was already rolled up. A couple of people were currently hauling a mattress out of the truck and down the metal ramp. A dog was running in crazed circles on the lawn, chased by a boy and, trailing well behind, a tiny girl in pink overalls and purple shoes that, to Niall’s dazed eyes, seemed to be flashing sparkling lights. The back door of Enid’s house stood open. A woman was carrying a lamp in. She’d no sooner disappeared inside than a different woman came out empty-handed. She called something to the kids, who were too busy running in frenetic circles to acknowledge her.
It was the granddaughter. The curvy package with the fabulous legs, exposed almost as effectively in snug jeans as when she wore short shorts. Those were her two kids. The dog… Was it theirs? The husband was probably one of those men.
An expletive escaped Niall’s lips. They were moving in. An entire family was moving into Enid’s house, separated from his cottage by the width of a lawn and one old apple tree.
He kept staring, shock almost—but not quite—numbing him. There would be a swing hanging from the branch of that apple tree before he knew it. The dog would crap all over the lawn and set up an uproar every time Niall came and went. The kids would have friends over. Soon, there wouldn’t be two of them, there would be half a dozen.
This was his worst nightmare.
He’d have to break the lease.
And pay massive penalties, unless Enid’s granddaughter was as eager to see him gone as he was to go.
Uh-huh. And where would he be going to?
Maybe it was time he bought a house, he reflected. He could certainly afford to. But the idea had always filled him with uneasiness. It still did. A one-year lease was all the commitment he’d ever wanted to make. Actually owning his own house, his own piece of land, putting down roots… Making some kind of unspoken promise, if only to himself, to stay here, in his hometown....
He let the blinds spring back into place but stayed where he was, staring at them. Outside the pandemonium continued.
There had to be another rental somewhere that would be suitable. This was Sunday. Once everything settled down out there, he’d slip out and grab his newspaper. Maybe he’d spot an ad that said something like, Nice house, Privacy! No near neighbors!
Rural. That’s what he needed, Niall decided grimly. So what if it took him longer to drive to work, if come spring he had to fight the traffic congestion caused by tourists out to view the tulip and daffodil fields?
God help me, he thought, and stumbled into the tiny kitchenette to put on a pot of coffee. Clearly, going back to bed wasn’t happening.
AT FOUR-THIRTY IN THE afternoon, a firm rat-a-tat-tat on his door made Niall go on sharp alert. He’d been lying on his sofa brooding, feeling trapped. Would he never be able to come and go without risking the possibility of having to exchange neighborly greetings?
He swore under his breath and stood. It would be her, of course. No, maybe not. Maybe he’d get lucky and be able to deal with the husband. If there was one.
No such luck. Not only the woman stood on his doorstep, but her two children, the little girl latched on to her leg and gazing suspiciously at him, the boy’s eyes filled with curiosity. The dog was trying to shove between them and get in the door. Niall automatically stuck out a foot to foil the break-in.
His gaze traveled up—although it didn’t have to go very far—to meet the young woman’s. She was sort of a blonde, with big brown eyes. Bangs were pushed to one side, and the rest of her baby-fine hair was in a ponytail. Maybe her hair was really brown and she’d had it highlighted.... But Niall shook off that conjecture immediately. She wore no makeup, the bangs looked like she trimmed them herself, and she had a big splotch of what could have been mustard on her faded T-shirt. Which, he couldn’t help noticing, fit snugly over generous breasts. C cup for sure.
He became aware that, as he studied her, she was likewise inspecting him from his bare feet to his equally faded T-shirt. He thought she looked both wary and apprehensive. His mouth quirked slightly when he noticed that the little girl, who had moonlight-pale hair but Mommy’s soft brown eyes, had an identical expression on her face. Her clutch on her mother’s thigh tightened.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” the woman said.
He actually did know hers, he’d realized yesterday even before being handed the program for the service. Enid had mentioned it a couple of times. It had caught in his memory only because Rowan was an unusual name.
“Niall MacLachlan,” he said. “I assume you’re Enid’s granddaughter.”
“Yes. Rowan Staley.” She had a beautiful voice. The trill of laughter he’d heard earlier had to have been hers. “These are my children, Desmond and Anna.”
The boy piped up, “Hi.” The girl only stared, her eyes narrowing.
Niall had the thought that he could develop a soft spot for her.
“Hello,” he said and then waited, meantime keeping a cautious eye on the dog who had made an enthusiastic, tail-wagging circuit of the yard and was now closing in again. The damn thing looked as if he’d been put together with spare parts. Niall had seen garden art in which rusting springs, trowels and what-not were welded together to form fantastical animals. The dog was even rust-colored.
“We’ve moved into the house,” Rowan said.
No shit. He nodded then couldn’t resist saying, “Pretty quick.”
Her eyes narrowed, increasing the resemblance to her tiny daughter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I was surprised, that’s all.”
“I’m Gran’s sole heir. There’s no one to object and no point in the house sitting empty while the will goes through probate.”
His answering stare was deliberately bored. She flushed, giving her a rosy-cheeked look. No elegant cheekbones here. She wasn’t plump, but she had a lot of curves packed onto a frame that couldn’t possibly top five-foot-two or -three.
“I’m now your landlady,” she said sharply.
The dog sprang forward, forcing woman and children to stagger aside, and flung himself happily at Niall.
“Sit!” he snapped. Apparently surprised, the animal dropped to its haunches. Equally surprised, his family stared at him. Niall said, “Have you looked into that ugly dog contest? There might be prize money.”
“That’s not nice!” the boy exclaimed. “Super Sam is…is…”
Something like a chuckle was welling up in Niall’s chest. He suppressed it.
Rowan looked as indignant as her son. “How can you say that? Sam’s…cute.”
The cute came out kind of weak. Niall let his silence speak for itself.
The little girl said in a sweet, high voice, “We love Sam.”
The dog leaped up, ran a wet pink tongue over her face and bounded off. After a small sigh, Rowan
