tripping over Abby.
Flynn and his red hair were easy to spot. He was talking to a group of men in front of the barn. He held his lean frame confidently in the crowd, unconcerned that his wrinkled gray T-shirt looked like it had sat in a dryer for days. His grandfather wasn’t the only one who needed looking after.
Flynn did a double-take when he saw her bearing down on him.
If she had any chance of landing the job, she had to be diplomatic and squelch the niggling man-to-woman awareness Flynn created.
Squelching awareness was easy. Unfortunately, diplomacy wasn’t in her arsenal this morning.
Becca planted herself so close to Flynn, he could have heard her whisper. Instead, she chose her outdoor voice. “This is how you plan to take care of your grandfather? By leaving him sitting in a car at a construction site?”
Sensing the turbulence above her, Abby lowered her head between her shoulders.
Scowling, Flynn drew her aside. “There’s a problem here I need to deal with.”
“We solved that. You should have left thirty minutes ago.” A tall man with crisp black hair and a crisper dress shirt and tie had followed them toward the barn. He extended his hand. “I’m Slade Jennings. One of Flynn’s business partners. And you are...”
“Becca MacKenzie,” Flynn said wearily.
Covering her surprise that Flynn had remembered her name, Becca shook Slade’s hand and added, “I’m not a stalker. I’m staying in town.” She blew out a breath, trying to release her anger. “I noticed Edwin’s edema yesterday. He needs his extremities frequently elevated above his heart to help control the swelling. This isn’t good for him.”
“You’re the one Edwin was asking about.” Slade smoothed his navy striped tie and smiled just as smoothly at her, creating not a niggle in her awareness meter. “Weren’t you going to call her to set up an interview, Flynn?”
“The day got away from me,” Flynn said, looking uncomfortably like it was true and happened often. “Are you free around two, Becca? I’ll be done by then.”
Becca shook her head. Flynn didn’t understand that old bodies weren’t as hardy as young ones. She could kiss this job goodbye. Her lawyer was going to be disappointed. But someone had to defend Edwin. “Give me your keys.”
“What?” Flynn’s eyebrows nearly touched the brim of his baseball cap.
Slade watched the two of them with unabashed interest and a hint of a grin.
Becca thrust her hand out. “I’ll take Edwin home. Give me the keys.”
“I’m not hiring you, Becca. I haven’t checked your references.”
“This isn’t about giving me a job. It’s about what’s best for your grandfather. I can’t let him sit out here without food or a decent bathroom. I won’t charge you a cent, I promise. Now, give me the keys.”
“Are you always this bossy?” Flynn dug into his jeans pocket for the keys and handed them to her. He was kind of cute when he capitulated, not that she was looking for that in a boss.
“I prefer the term take charge.” She accented the label with air quotes.
“Okay, but just...don’t get comfortable.”
“I know, I know. You have to interview everyone and check into my past.” Becca had no illusions about getting the job if Flynn did a deep background check. It was enough that she could help Edwin through the day.
She hurried toward the black Cadillac, Abby trotting at her side. When she opened the door, Abby hopped up to sit on the bench seat next to the old man, touching him with her nose.
Edwin startled, bumping into the other door. “Oh, it’s you.” He scanned the area, wariness framing his gaze.
“Yes. Who were you expecting?”
“I saw someone I hadn’t seen...” He blinked at her. “Where are we?”
“Flynn’s winery. I’m taking you home.”
“Oh. Flynn hired you.” In a blink, he tucked wariness away, patted Abby and injected cheer into his voice. “I knew that boy would come to his senses.”
She didn’t tell him that boy had no sense, at least not when it came to taking care of his grandfather. When it came to hiring a caregiver, he had entirely too much.
* * *
“YOU SHOULD HIRE HER.”
Flynn stared at Slade as if his friend had just suggested he wear high heels and a thong to the construction site. “Hello? She was waiting for us on our doorstep yesterday. I can think of a dozen slasher movies that started that way. How can I trust her with my grandfather?”
Slade cocked an eyebrow. “You just did.”
“I hate it when you’re right.” Flynn hated that Becca was right, too.
She’d moved with swift, purposeful strides over to the Caddy. All’s well, said the sway of her hips. Mission accomplished, said the swing of her long, black braid. All woman, said the curves covered in black and pink spandex.
The wind picked up, rustling the silver-green eucalyptus leaves on the sixty-foot tall trees separating the river from the vineyards.
A wiry construction worker with a gray goatee and ponytail glanced Flynn’s way, triggering the elusive feeling of familiarity.
Slade shifted, blocking Flynn’s view and disrupting the path to recognition. “Hire Becca. She clearly has Edwin’s best interest at heart. And if she moves here she brings skills to the town we don’t have now. We promised to increase the population and the tax base.”
The population in Harmony Valley was a whopping seventy-seven. All but two of those residents—their business partner, Will, and his fiancé, Emma—were over the age of sixty-five. The construction crews commuted from other, larger towns, the nearest being thirty to forty minutes away. Flynn and Slade were temporary residents, staying only long enough to fulfill their promise to the town council—to create at least one business to revitalize their hometown.
What fools they’d been to think it would be easy.
They’d experienced a series of false starts, but now, construction on the winery was finally moving forward. Also in the works was a communications tower to bring internet and cell phone service to the remote valley. Today was the first big day of work—demo of unusable parts of the barn, utility work needed to upgrade water, sewer and electricity.
Grandpa Ed waved as Becca drove the Caddy slowly around the drive.
Flynn returned the gesture halfheartedly. “I brought him here because I didn’t want to leave him alone.”
There had been indignation in Becca’s dark gaze today, with none of the subtle emotion he had yet to name layered in her eyes. Regardless, Becca was right. Flynn shouldn’t have dragged his grandfather out here, much less left him sitting. As if he needed more guilt.
