Her mind translated his abstract notion into a vision of cascading drifts of blue and white flowers with, here and there, the unexpected blossom of red or purple—
No, it was too late for that. The check fluttered between her fingers in the light breeze.
He glanced at it, seeming to catch her thoughts. “I hope you’ll still do my garden.”
Her fingers tightened, crushing the flimsy bit of paper. With Art out of work, they would need the money. She gazed into Will’s blue eyes and saw intelligence and compassion, qualities as attractive to her as his physical appearance. He was a good man caught in difficult circumstances.
Then she thought of Art, a broken man.
And she just…couldn’t…do it.
“Go to hell.” She stuffed the check in his hand, ran back to her utility truck and tore down the driveway and out of his life, before she could change her mind.
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