she saw Katie smiling and pointing and turned just in time to feel the cold wet spray of water hitting above her head. “What—”
Simon Adams stood there with a water hose positioned with a powerful spray toward the tree that had caught on fire. Without a word, he soaked down the blaze.
And he didn’t look too happy.
“There’s your fire,” Simon told Shanna a few minutes later. “Now enjoy your…uh…picnic.”
She at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone low. “You can go back to work now. I’ll take it from here.”
Surprised at the way she spun around in dismissal, Simon bristled. He wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed, especially after he’d dropped everything to help her.
“You’re welcome,” he called while she handed out long forked sticks with hotdogs stuck on them and went about supervising this wienie-roast gone bad.
“Hold up, Mr. Adams.” She turned back toward him then, her usual perkiness subdued into a look of disappointment and dismay. Was she going to cry? ’Cause he didn’t like crying women and he sure didn’t have time to console someone who’d been foolish to begin with.
But Shanna White wasn’t about to cry. No sir. She came stomping toward him with a bit of her own fire shooting through her pretty edge-of-sky blue eyes, stopping with a skid of a halt inches from his nose. “I do so appreciate your help in getting this fire under control, but I don’t appreciate the condescending way you oh-so-carefully explained loudly enough to wake the bears about how to start a campfire and keep it from…how did you put that?…burning down the whole mountainside.”
She leaned closer still, the scent of her flowery perfume mixed with the smell of lighter fluid-engulfed wood. “I’m trying here, okay? These kids need good examples, not some snarky man who has a chip bigger than that old tree on his shoulder. So back off, will you?” Then before he could catch his breath, she added, “Of course, you’re welcome to share a hotdog and some s’mores with us, since you did save the day, so to speak.”
Dumbfounded, Simon smiled for the second time that day. Then quickly went back to frowning. “I don’t want a hotdog, lady. I want some peace and quiet. If you can give me that, then I’ll gladly leave you to your own devices. As long as they don’t interfere with me or my work.”
She glared at him. It was a dainty glare but it meant business. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? We’ll try to whisper all week. You know, teenagers and preteens are so very good at that. Don’t worry. I think they’re all terrified of you anyway. If you’ll excuse me, I have some s’mores to make.”
Dismissed yet again, Simon stood there with his hands in his pockets, the amused and way-too-interested gazes coming from seven sets of eyes making him hot under the collar. Or maybe it was the scalding takedown he’d just been given by Miss Shanna that had him hot under the collar. Either way, he refused to stand here and be insulted after he’d taken the time to help her.
Simon glanced over at the kids, noting that some of them were actually enjoying cooking their hotdogs on sticks. Then memories of another picnic not far from here swirled like embers in front of his eyes. He could hear Marcy’s sweet laughter, see her sparkling eyes, feel her in his arms as he tried to keep her warm. An acute anger and longing filled his heart, causing him to step back from the scene in front of him.
“I won’t bother you again if you promise to leave me alone,” he said.
And without a word, he hurried back to the studio where Shiloh whimpered at the door. Simon let the big dog out. The dog could go entertain the neighbors. He wanted to be alone. Completely alone. So he shut the door and cranked up the country music he liked to listen to while he worked.
And with a determined effort, he put Shanna White and her seven charges out of his mind. Or at least as far away from his thoughts as he could, considering that for the rest of the long afternoon, he heard her occasional bursts of tingling laughter, even over the twang of the somebody-done-somebody-wrong love songs.
“That young man certainly had a burr in his bonnet,” Janie said after Simon was out of earshot. “Or more like, a burr in his cowboy boot.”
“He doesn’t like being around other people,” Shanna said. “It distracts him from his work.” And his pain. Shanna knew why he was hiding, and it caused her to be more sympathetic.
“Maybe he needs distracting,” Janie said. Then she turned toward the cabin and walked away, smiling.
Shanna watched as her new neighbor hurried inside his big barnlike studio, his faithful dog waiting for him. But he let the dog out then shut the door in the dog’s face, too.
No surprise there, she thought with an amused smile. She’d been warned that her neighbor was reclusive and standoffish. Her friend Cari Duncan—now Cari Duncan Adams—had also warned her about Simon’s dark good looks and even darker not-so-friendly scowls. Cari was newly married to Simon’s younger brother Rick. Rick, along with his mother Gayle, ran Adams’ General Store and Apparel in the quaint village of Knotwood Mountain about ten miles to the south.
But his older brother Simon stayed holed up out here on the family compound near the Chattahoochee River, creating handmade one-of-a-kind boots for everyone from celebrities and politicians to construction workers and cowboys. His work was famous but apparently so was his notorious seclusion. He didn’t venture out to get clients. They came begging to him. Everyone wanted a pair of Simon Adams boots. But not everyone could afford them. Including Shanna. And apparently, everyone cowered and tiptoed around his dark moods. Not including Shanna. She had seven unruly wards to worry about. She didn’t have time to bow down to His Highness or his demands.
The man made beautiful boots, no doubt about that.
Too bad his attitude toward the entire human race wasn’t so beautiful. Cari had explained why Simon was this way. And Shanna sure wasn’t going to ask him to get over it. He’d been through the worst.
Telling herself to cut him some slack and pray for him instead of belittling him, Shanna thought about what Cari had told her when she and Rick had insisted Shanna could use this cabin, rent-free, for a week over the spring break.
“I have to explain about Simon,” Cari said one night after a church meeting. “He lost his wife Marcy to cancer a few years ago and well, since then he’s become a bit of a recluse. He’s an artist, so he’s naturally temperamental and hard to live with. But Rick told me when we first started dating that his brother hasn’t gotten over his wife’s death. He’s bitter, Shanna. So he might be nasty to you if you approach him. He won’t like having neighbors for a week but even the mighty Simon Adams can’t dictate who his brother rents that cabin to.”
Shanna thought about Cari’s words now as she glanced over toward Simon’s workshop. No, Simon couldn’t keep people away from his brother’s property but he could make trouble for her. Especially if this rat pack of wayward teens and younger children bothered him.
She’d talk to her seven charges and explain the rules:
Leave the big man next door alone.
Stay off his property.
Don’t get too loud.
Don’t mess with the dog.
