as her little dog barked through the wooden door. “Oh, about the hose. Please don’t forget to coil it up when you’re through.”
“I’ll leave it the way I found it. Don’t worry. I might be loud and inconsiderate when I’m playing my drums all night, but I’m careful with garden hoses.”
Why was she laughing? She shouldn’t be encouraging him. She snatched her mail from the slim black box next to the front door. She wasn’t even going to look at the bills that had come. She had bigger problems. Her new neighbor. So he wasn’t what she’d prayed for. He wasn’t going to be a problem, right?
Maybe she wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Maybe he’d taken off his wedding ring when he worked so he wouldn’t catch it on a pipe or something. That meant there was a chance he could be married and responsible.
He didn’t look responsible, but still, a girl had to have hope. “Will your wife be joining you?”
“No, no wife. No woman can put up with all the groupies from my band.”
“I can’t believe Mrs. Gardner is letting a man like you stay in her house.”
“There’s this nondiscrimination law. She had to let me in or I threatened to sue.” Dimples cut into his cheeks as he tunneled his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, standing strong and at ease, like a man always in charge. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good neighbor. I won’t throw parties and don’t play loud music. I’m usually working.”
“Working.” She should have guessed it by the hard, lean look of him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those workaholic types.”
“Yes, but it’s not my fault. It’s genetic. I tried a support group for a while, but it cut into my work time.”
“I suppose it’s a competitive, stressful calling, being a plumber. Nighttime leaking pipes, early-morning bathtub backups and emergency pipe unclogging.”
“Are you mocking me?” That seemed to make those troublesome glints in his eyes shine more brightly. “Sure, go ahead and make me angry. I may have to go let off steam. Did I mention I play drums? Yep. I plan to set up in the garage. Will that bother you at night?”
He flashed her a grin before padding soundlessly away. He moved like a well-trained athlete, like a man comfortable with his power. Not married, huh?
She was a woman. She couldn’t help noticing the wide, capable cut of his shoulders beneath the plain gray T-shirt. Or his long legs encased in denim as he disappeared around the corner of her house.
Not that she was interested. She wanted a nice Christian man. He looked like anything but.
“Best get the tea steeping, because I’m a fast worker,” he called from the side yard, out of sight.
The side gate of the fence squealed open and then snapped shut.
He might not be Mr. Right, but he was funny. Heroes in the movies weren’t this good-looking.
Her dog started barking an enthusiastic greeting through the door. Kirby banned all thoughts of Sam Gardner from her head and turned the old brass knob.
The instant she opened the door, the little spaniel leaped at her knees, panting happily. Kirby knelt to hug the wiggling creature. There was nothing like being welcomed home. And until she had a family of her own, she was blessed with this little animal that was always so glad to see her.
“C’mon, Jessie. Let’s get you outside.” Kirby’s problems felt far away as she set down her purse and followed her best friend through the house. The little blond dog, nothing but fluff, curls and long ears, dashed ahead, leading the way.
“Did you have a good day guarding the house?” Kirby talked to fill the silence that was broken only by the occasional creak of the wood floorboards and the tap of her heels. “I know, it’s a tough job, but you did well. Yes, you did.”
The dog panted happily, already at the back door, sitting politely and gazing at the doorknob.
There he was! Sam Gardner. Kirby froze at the sight of him, then took one step back away from the window. Staying out of his sight, she watched him through the sun-streaked glass. Looking like a rodeo hero, he slung the coiled green hose into the air like a lasso. It unfurled as it sailed over the top of the fence and into his backyard.
Sam Gardner met only one of her criteria. He was attractive. She watched his toned muscles ripple beneath his T-shirt as he adjusted the hose over the top of the board fence and stalked out of sight.
Too bad. She’d be willing to settle for him if he met even one more of her criteria.
A second later, she could hear the sound of water running. “What do you think, Jess?”
The dog didn’t bother to bark. She looked at the doorknob expectantly.
“Some watchdog you are. You’re too friendly. You didn’t even snarl when he was in the backyard.”
The dog gazed up at her happily, long silky ears flopping, pink tongue lolling.
“I know, you’re a fierce one.” Kirby patted the dog’s soft round head, laughing because she couldn’t imagine her sweet-hearted dog hurting anyone.
She couldn’t imagine Sam Gardner running from anyone or anything. He had that tough, dangerous look about him. The one that made a girl’s pulse skyrocket. Even an average and ordinary girl like her.
There he was again. She could see him on the other side of the fence, in his yard, tugging the hose in a competent, expert way that said he could handle anything. Shocks of dark hair tumbled over his brow as he worked, and the sunshine flitted over him like grace.
He’s probably not a Christian, not nice, not considerate and hardworking, she told herself, as if that were any consolation. Except that didn’t ring true.
The dog scratched at the door.
Had she drifted off again? Yep, she was always doing that. Kirby turned the knob and opened the door. Maybe she’d go out with the dog and make sure Sam had shut the side gate. He didn’t look like the responsible type—
A shadow leaped toward her. Big. Dark. Threatening. She fell back against the door, from calm to terrified in a millisecond. She tried to scream.
Couldn’t.
The shadow became an enormous dog hurtling toward her. Its powerful jaw opened to reveal enormous sharp teeth. He leaped through the open door and planted his huge muddy paws on her shoulders. Bright, happy brown eyes smiled at her. A wide, wet tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly hello.
“I guess you’re not too dangerous.” Kirby wiped her face with her sleeve. “Down.”
Pleased with himself, the dog dropped to all fours, glad to sniff noses with the little blond spaniel dancing around him in greeting.
That was one enormous dog. He was at least midthigh high, with a neat short black-and-brown coat. He paraded into her kitchen as if he owned it.
I bet I know who owns him. Kirby thought of that rugged, all-too-confident man next door. The one who mentioned
